“I wish I could see her to-night But to-night duty holds me here. Franklin, my second in command, has gone on shore for the first time to see his family, who reside here, and whom he has not seen for three years. So I cannot get off to-night! But early to-morrow! How early may I see her to-morrow?” “Come and breakfast with us at nine to-morrow. That is about as early as we can manage.” “I will go!” “And now, Le, tell us about Roland Bayard. How comes it that he is in the uniform of the pirate’s mate? How comes it that he is brought here as a prisoner, instead of as a rescued captive?” The countenance of the young man fell, all the joyous life died out of it, and he murmured: “I had forgotten! In my own selfish joy I had forgotten,’” “Forgotten? What, Le?” “I had forgotten Roland’s position. Oh, Uncle Abel! It is a most cruel one!” “Tell me one thing,” sternly demanded Mr. Force. “Was he Silver’s mate?” “I do not know.” “You do not know, Le? What do you mean by that? Surely you must know!” “Indeed, I do not, uncle. After the fight was over, and when the two prisoners were placed under my charge on board this ship, and she was manned by a part of the crew from the _Eagle_, and I was ordered to take her home, when we had set sail and were well on our way I went to see Roland, to ask him some explanation of his presence on board the blockade runner. He was not known there as Roland Bayard, but as Craven Cloud. I found him alone, for the two prisoners had been confined separately. I found him moody to the verge of melancholy madness. I told him how grieved I was to find him there, and asked him to tell me how it happened, when he had left Capt. Grandiere, whether he had joined the navy and had been captured in some action.” “And what did he reply to all these questions?” inquired Mr. Force, seeing that Le paused in his narrative. “Not one satisfactory word! He told me that fate had brought him there, and that he could tell me no more. And though I plied him with questions, and appealed to him to answer them in the name of our lifelong love for one another, he remained obdurate. He assured me that he could not satisfy me.” “And he never did?” “He never did. But one day he told me the reason why his tongue was tied.” “And what was that?” “It was a terrible revelation, uncle—a terrible revelation! But it accounted for everything that was strange in Roland’s life and conduct,” replied Le, still shrinking from the utterance of what he had to say. “Well, well, my boy?” demanded the squire. “He told me that Capt. Silver was his own father!” “Good Heaven!” exclaimed the earl. The squire was silent for a moment, and then said, in the most emphatic manner: “I don’t believe it! It is not true!”