In my hours of slavery, the smile and look of Emmeline Manvers has often haunted my waking and my sleeping dreams; but she is married--is in all probability a happy wife and loving mother; prosperity is around her, and it is most likely she has forgotten the boy to whom her kindness was so dear." "Hours of slavery ?" asked Edward, for those words had alone riveted his attention.

"Can you, a free and British sailor, have ever been a slave ?" "Even so, my young friend; for seven years I languished in the loathsome dungeons of Algiers, and the last sixteen years have been a slave." Edward grasped his hand with an uncontrollable impulse, while at the same moment he clenched his sword, and his countenance expressed the powerful indignation of his young and gallant spirit, though words for the moment he had none.

Lieutenant Mordaunt again smiled--that smile which by some indefinable power inspired Edward with affection and esteem.
"I am free now, my gallant boy," he said; "free as if the galling fetters of slavery had never bowed down my neck.

Another day you shall hear more.

Now gratify me by some account of your aunt; speak of her--tell me if she have children--if her husband still lives.