A friend in need is a friend in deed—The tables are turned and so is the key—The issue in deep tragedy.
Was it possible that which Melchior said was true? A little reflection told me that it was all false, and that he was himself Sir Henry de Clare. I was in his power, and what might be the result? He might detain me, but he dare not murder me. Dare not! My heart sank when I considered where I was, and how easy would it be for him to despatch me, if so inclined, without any one ever being aware of my fate. I lighted a whole candle, that I might not find myself in the dark when I rose, and exhausted in body and mind, was soon fast asleep. I must have slept many hours, for when I awoke I was in darkness—the candle had burnt out. I groped for the basket, and examined the contents with my hands, and found a tinder-box. I struck a light, and then feeling hungry and weak, refreshed myself with the eatables it contained, which were excellent, as well as the wine. I had replaced the remainder, when the key again turned in the door, and Melchior made his appearance.
"How do you feel, Japhet, to-day?"
"To-day!" replied I; "day and night are the same to me."
"That is your own fault," replied he. "Have you considered what I proposed to you yesterday?"
"Yes," replied I; "and I will agree to this. Let Sir Henry give me my liberty, come over to England, prove his relationship to Fleta, and I will give her up. What can he ask for more?"
"He will hardly consent to that," replied Melchior; "for, once in England, you will take a warrant out against him."
"No; on my honour I will not, Melchior."
"He will not trust to that."
"Then he must judge of others by himself," replied I.