"Yes, sir; I have come to see you."
"But—" He paused, his lips quivered, and his frame trembled.
"You are not glad to see me?" I added.
"I am very glad to see you—more so than you can think. But how is it I see you? Thomas told me you started for England, and was lost overboard on the passage."
"Did he tell you that?" I demanded, astonished; and I saw at once that E. Dunkswell, on the arrival of the steamer at Queenstown, where a letter could be mailed, had written to his employer.
And Tom Thornton at that moment believed I was lying at the bottom of the sea, no more to disturb him, or threaten his ill-gotten possessions. I told my uncle that my life had been preserved.
"Thank God!" said he, so earnestly that I believed he was sincere. "I feared that Thomas, through his agent, had committed a crime greater than mine."
"If the intention makes the crime, I think he did commit it. Where is Tom Thornton?" I asked.
"He is here to-day," replied my uncle, going to the window and calling his son, who was walking by the lake. "You have been to England, Ernest?"
He trembled all over, and I pitied him.