If any circumstance would have augmented his intense desire to meet Estelle, it must have been his possession of the important information he had now to communicate to her. He considered the events of the recovery of the drowned body by the crew of the Queen Charlotte, and his own presence on the spot to identify the corpse as that of Victoire L’Orient, as providential. He felt assured that certainty in regard to the fate of this man must at least give peace to the tempest-tost life of Estelle. He hoped also that it would change her purposes and settle her future. And now that he had reached port, his anxiety to find her was almost insupportable. But the Sabbath must be lived through; nay, indeed notwithstanding his weak human impatience, it must be duly honored! He compelled himself to be quiet, and went to the Episcopal church twice that day—attending St. George’s in the forenoon, and St. John’s in the afternoon, in the faint vain hope also that at one or the other he might possibly see Estelle, whom he knew to be a scrupulous and regular attendant upon Divine Service. And then, after a night of sleepless anxiety, he arose early on Monday morning, and as soon as there was any possibility of finding the bankers at their place of business, he took a carriage and drove it to the banking-house of Somerville and Son. He found the senior partner already at his desk. He introduced himself, and made inquiries relative to the lady of whom he came in search. Alas! Alas! At first Mr. Somerville, senior, knew nothing about such a lady—had never seen or heard of her, and was certain, begging his lordship’s pardon, that she had never honored their establishment with a call. But at this point of the conversation, Mr. Somerville, junior, who had been standing at another desk, listening with his pen behind his ear, came forward and recalled to his father’s mind the beautiful English lady, dressed in deep mourning, who had come from the house of Scofield Brothers, London, and had called upon them just two weeks ago. Then—yes! oh, yes! the old banker did not remember the lovely lady in mourning, but he remembered the heavy drafts drawn by Scofield Brothers on them, in favor of——now, who _was_ it in favor of? He referred to his papers and found— “Estelle Montressor.” “Yes, that was the lady.” Well! the lady had received her money and had departed. And that was all they knew of her. And from them Lord Montressor received no other satisfaction. CHAPTER XI. HIS MAJESTY THE KING OF THE ISLES. “A merry madman this!”—_Prout._ ——“Though this be madness, yet There’s method in’t!”—_Shakspeare._