However, with a snort of impatience, he opened the missive, and as he read it Alison, who was watching his thin face with affectionate anxiety, saw an expression of blank wonder, of utter amazement, steal over it. He started, and, as if he could not believe his eyes, wiped his _pince-nez_ with his handkerchief and read the letter again, while Alison, whose birthday it was, and who sighed a little because there was no one to remember it, stole to his side and peeped over his shoulder. It was from the secretary of Sir Ranald's bank, to announce that, by some friend unknown, £1,000 had been paid in the name of Miss Alison Cheyne for her use and behoof, and as a _birthday_ gift. Surprise profound and great joy were the first emotions of father and daughter, and the latter thought of all the little debts it would clear and the comforts it would procure for the former; but neither had the slightest suspicion of the real donor, for Goring was supposed to have little more than his pay, and both were inclined to accredit Lord Cadbury with it; thus for a time a perilous emotion of deep gratitude began really to fill the affectionate heart of Alison--we say perilous, for it enhanced the prospects of the peer, and might eventually blight those of Goring, if aught occurred to make Alison question his truth or loyalty to herself, and yet her heart shrank with shame at taking a money gift from her rejected lover. A birthday gift, she thought; Lord Cadbury did not know her birthday. Bevil did; but of course this princely and certainly opportune present could never come from poor Bevil, who was thankful to add to his income by slaving as a musketry instructor. Beyond Cadbury conjecture was endless. 'Can it be from Captain Llanyard?' she suggested. 'Absurd!' said her father, almost angrily. Tom Llanyard, she knew with all a pretty girl's sharp intuition, had admired her greatly and secretly during the brief voyage in the _Firefly_, and Tom, we are glad to record, had, singular to say, in one day realised a handsome fortune. Alison knew of that circumstance, and she knew too that Cadbury was too innately vulgar not to be ostentatious with his wealth and disinclined to hide his candle under a bushel. Tom Llanyard, with the _Firefly_, when taking her to Cowes by Lord Cadbury's orders, had been blown by a foul wind, and in a heavy gale thereof, down the Channel till he was off the coast of Devonshire, where he fell in with a large derelict Indiaman, which had been abandoned by her captain and crew during the gale, and of which he took possession. He brought her into Dartmouth safely, and she proved to be laden with teakwood, rum, and a cargo valued generally at nearly £100,000, consequently the salvage alone proved a handsome fortune to worthy Tom Llanyard, who immediately resigned 'the honour' of commanding Lord Cadbury's yacht.