"I thanked him kindly for his assurance, and said it would be my endeavour to deserve his friendship. He was soon after removed below, and I did not see him until we reached the Thames, and were moored at the Isle of Dogs. The captain, who was part owner, went into furnished lodgings while we were delivering our cargo, being still unable to walk, from the dislocation of his ankle. The greater part of the crew also lodged on shore; but I remained on board with the mate, in charge of the vessel, and often went to the captain with letters and messages. In one of my visits, he desired me to be seated, and give him an account of myself, as he said he had taken an interest in my welfare, and wished to serve me, agreeably to his promise, if I continued to deserve it. I gave him a full detail of my life until I came to the encounter I had witnessed between him and his opponent, when I stopped. 'Nay, young man,' said he,'I wish to hear an account of what you were witness of, from your own mouth.' I went on. He heard me with composure, until I mentioned the tearing off the ring from his finger. When I came to this part of the narrative, his countenance became distorted with rage; he ground his teeth, and stamped upon the floor; his eyes flashed fire, and his passion seemed too great for utterance. I looked on in silence, fearful that, from his weakness, he would fall into a fit. At length, he said, as if in deep abstraction, and unconscious of my presence-- "'Faithless Eliza! I thought I had cast it at thy feet in my agony of blighted hopes, and felt pleased. It was my intention; but my mind was a chaos of misery. The traitor Wallace has got the pledge of the love you proved false to. Would that his sword had pierced the heart his treachery has rendered miserable! No; I shall meet him once again, and one of us shall die----' "Then starting to his feet, he supported himself upon the back of a chair, his countenance no longer distorted with rage, having changed into a settled, resolute cast, calm and stern. His burst of emotion had passed away. "'Square,' he said, 'you, like myself, have no tie to bind you to Scotland, no relation or friend on earth; we are as if we had dropped from some distant planet, now desolate of inhabitants, into this busy world. Still I must ever remember that any happiness I ever enjoyed was in Edinburgh; and my heart's cherished hopes--hopes that have cheered my way through toil and danger--were there for ever crushed by the subtle arts of one I thought my friend. Base wretch! you shall not long exult in your villany! Square, you must accompany me back to Edinburgh, as soon as I am able to use this limb with vigour. Do you agree to accompany me?'