"Thank God you are alive!" she cried; "alive and well, when we feared you dead. Oh, Richard, we have been miserable indeed since we had news of your disappearance." "This is worth it all, Dolly," I said, only brokenly. She dropped her eyes, which had searched me through in wonder and pity, --those eyes I had so often likened to the deep blue of the sea,--and her breast rose and fell quickly with I knew not what emotions. How the mind runs, and the heart runs, at such a time! Here was the same Dorothy I had known in Maryland, and yet not the same. For she was a woman now, who had seen the great world, who had refused both titles and estates, --and perchance accepted them. She drew her hands from mine. "And how came you in such a place?" she asked, turning with a shudder. "Did you not know you had friends in London, sir?" Not for so much again would I have told her of Mr. Manners's conduct. So I stood confused, casting about for a reply with truth in it, when Comyn broke in upon us. "I'll warrant you did not look for her here, Richard. Faith, but you are a lucky dog," said my Lord, shaking his head in mock dolefulness; "for there is no man in London, in the world, for whom she would descend a flight of steps, save you. And now she has driven the length of the town when she heard you were in a sponging-house, nor all the dowagers in Mayfair could stop her." "Fie, Comyn," said my lady, blushing and gathering up her skirts; "that tongue of yours had hung you long since had it not been for your peer's privilege. Richard and I were brought up as brother and sister, and you know you were full as keen for his rescue as I." His Lordship pinched me playfully. "I vow I would pass a year in the Fleet to have her do as much for me," said he. "But where is the gallant seaman who saved you, Richard?" asked Dolly, stamping her foot. "What," I exclaimed; "you know the story?" "Never mind," said she; "bring him here." My conscience smote me, for I had not so much as thought of John Paul since I came into that room. I found him waiting in the passage, and took him by the hand. "A lady wishes to know you, captain," I said. "A lady!" he cried. "Here? Impossible!" And he looked at his clothes. "Who cares more for your heart than your appearance," I answered gayly, and led him into the office. At sight of Dorothy he stopped abruptly, confounded, as a man who sees a diamond in a dust-heap. And a glow came over me as I said: "Miss Manners, here is Captain Paul, to whose courage and unselfishness I owe everything." "Captain," said Dorothy, graciously extending her hand, "Richard has many friends. You have put us all in your debt, and none deeper than his old playmate."