Hence, when the news arrived that the barque “Columbo” had grounded in a gale, on the Florida Reefs, with the loss of all hands, Dame Worthington gave vent to her feelings in a few sobs and a fainting fit, but more than this she betrayed little of that grief which might have been expected from a loved and cherished wife. Her only true and fast friend through life was, as he always had been, old Sir Richard Warbeck. He furnished a private hotel for her, the management of which fully occupied her time and brought in much money. But now that Charley Warbeck was married and settled, she seemed in part satisfied, and looked even younger than ever. But still she fretted much for Ned Warbeck, who was at sea, for of the two youths she loved him much the best. He was younger, bolder, and far more handsome than Charley, but he was always a wild, harum-scarum youth; and, since he had run away to sea the old dame fretted much, wept in secret, and would have given the world to have seen her darling boy once more. But everybody said that, since he had gone out in search of the Skeleton Crew, he would never return alive. “Don’t believe such idle tales,” said Sir Richard, often. “Young Ned has got as many lives as a cat. Put him where you will, he is sure to fall on his feet.” But now a stranger made Dame Worthington’s acquaintance. This was no other than old Sir Andrew! He had got tired of country life, and determined to start again in the city. He had heard and knew that old Sir Richard was not only very wealthy and powerful, but that he constantly visited good Dame Worthington. “She is a silly, soft-hearted woman,” thought Sir Andrew. “By going to live there, I shall fall across Sir Richard, and it may be that by-and-bye we may get better acquainted, and he may assist me in re-establishing myself in business.” “If any one wants to get favours out of a man, let him flatter the woman that man most respects,” thought Sir Andrew. He was a “canny Scot,” and, like all his nation, had a long, calculating head. He had not been residing long at Dame Worthington’s, therefore—his wife was always in the country—when he and she became remarkably chatty together, and communicative. Sir Andrew passed himself off as a widower, and told such a pitiful tale how he had been wronged and dishonoured by Phillip and his own daughter, that the good dame listened attentively to all the old hypocrite had to say, and not only sympathised with him, but even went so far as to plead his cause to Sir Richard, who, she thought, from his power and position, might help Sir Andrew on to the path of fortune once more. The cunning Scot knew that nothing pleases a woman more than flattery, particularly in one who is a “good listener,” and can hear out the many long stories which widows always have to tell.