"We certainly have made the bank pay," the older man said. "As you know, it was not in the best condition when I took hold of it. I had no idea running a bank was so interesting. I have handled my end well and you have yours. I have heartily enjoyed my work, but sometimes I am in doubt about you." "About me?" William's eyes met the upward glance of his wife, and both looked at the old man inquiringly. "Yes. You always seem nervous, overworked, and worried. I've tried to make it out. Are you sure you are entirely well? You are getting gray, my boy, and your signature often has a shaky look. You don't smoke too much, do you?" "I think not," said William, and his eyes fell under the calm, penetrating stare of his wife. "But I _am_ nervous, and seem to be getting more so. I am thinking of a vacation." "That is right, take it," his uncle said. "I can run the old boat awhile by myself." Celeste remained at the table after they had left the room. She listened attentively and heard them closing the door as they went out into the street. No sooner were they away than she rang for the maid. "Please tell Michael that I want to see him," she said to the girl. "He is still there, is he not?" "Yes, madam." In a moment Michael appeared, his hat in hand. "When did you get back?" Celeste asked, after she had greeted him and he stood at the end of the table, the dust of travel on his gray suit and in the hollows of his earnest blue eyes. "At four o'clock this morning, madam; I'm pretty well done up." "How did you leave your mother?" asked Celeste, and her eyes swept him from head to foot. It was plain to the servant that her questions were merely perfunctory. "Very well, thank you, madam. It is very kind of you to ask." "I am glad to hear it, Michael." Celeste faced him more directly now. "I was afraid she was worse, for you know you were gone longer than usual." "A few days longer, madam," Michael said. "I had no idea of being detained, but I actually ran across a trace of Mr. Charles, and, knowing your anxiety, I--" "You have found him--you have seen him!" Celeste interrupted. "I know it from the way you look, Michael." "Yes, madam, I found him. After some trouble and quite a journey I located him and managed to meet and talk with him." "Sit down, Michael, sit down; you are tired." He drew a chair back from the table and sat in it, his travel-stained hat on his knee. "Now tell me about him. Is he well?" "A perfect picture of health, madam," Michael beamed. "He is living on an old plantation down in the mountains of Georgia, working like a common laborer, but he seemed satisfied." "Like a common laborer!" Celeste repeated, sadly. "Go on, tell me everything, Michael." At some length the old servant recounted his experiences from the moment of his meeting with Mason in New York till he had joined Charles in the South. "And the girl you speak of--the planter's daughter. You say she is--"