As Peter spoke he placed on the table before Jessie a small weather-stained canvas bag, and, undoing the string, counted out fifty guineas.
“They are all right,” he continued, “and my heart is lightened of the thought I’ve always had that I might lose them, though I would have made it up to you somehow or other—that I would.”
Tears choked Jessie’s utterance as she thought of the kind captain who had remembered her in his last moments, and of the sturdy honesty and faithfulness of Peter.
“I am, indeed, grateful to you as I am to Captain Mudge,” she said at length; “but surely you are entitled to some of this.”
“Not a dollar would I touch, not if all the judges in the land were to order me to take it,” answered Peter, replacing the money in the bag, which he tied up and pressed into her hands. “There, it’s all for you, and I wish you knew how happy I am to give it to you safe at last.”
Before Jessie could reply there was a knock at the door. Mrs Judson went to open it. “Miss Flamank cannot see you,” Jessie heard her say.
“She never sent that message,” exclaimed Dick Bracewell, brushing by her and entering the room. He cast an angry glance at Peter, as if he considered him an intruder, and advanced to shake hands with Jessie. She drew back, greatly annoyed at his conduct.
“Mrs Judson told you I was engaged,” she said.
“She told me you couldn’t see me; but when a man loves a girl, and knows pretty well that she likes him, he isn’t to be stopped by trifles,” he answered, throwing himself into a chair, as if he felt perfectly at home.
A feeling of indignation prevented Jessie from saying anything. Meantime Peter had been narrowly eyeing her unwelcome visitor, and, stepping up to him, said—