convinced that he had given us a faithful account, and that our father was really alive. We now earnestly consulted with him what to do; not forgetting to seek for guidance from on high as to the best means for recovering our father. Gilbert was for setting out forthwith, taking Batten as his companion, and getting on board the first ship sailing for America; but even had our mother agreed to Gilbert’s proposal, it was impracticable, as the old sailor was becoming worse and worse. We sent for the apothecary, and did all we could to restore his waning strength; but all was in vain, and before the next day was over he had breathed his last.

“We were now much troubled, for the means on which we had depended for discovering our father had thus been lost. We had no one with whom to consult; we talked and talked, but could come to no conclusion. ‘We will pray to God for guidance,’ said our mother, ‘we will now, my children, go to rest; and to-morrow morning we will meet, with the hope that light will be afforded us to direct our course.’

“Her first words the following morning when she entered the parlour were: ‘Praise be to God—he has not left me any longer in doubt what to do—I have bethought me of Captain Amyas Layton, who resides not far from Plymouth. He and your father have often been shipmates, and he is among the oldest of his friends, and will give you sound advice on the subject. I would wish you to set out forthwith for Plymouth, and to place the whole matter before him. Tell him that I will expend all my means towards fitting out a ship to send to Virginia with trustworthy persons to search for your father. It may be, though, for the love Captain Layton bore him, that he will afford further means if necessary for the purpose.’”

“That will I right gladly,” exclaimed the captain, starting up, and taking three or four paces between the chairs in which the young brothers were sitting—first looking at one and then at the other; “you two are Audleys—I recognise your father’s features in both your countenances. There are few men whose memory I hold in greater love or esteem, and I will not say that to recover him I would hazard half my fortune, for the whole of it I would gladly give to bring him back, and old as I am, will sail forth myself in command of a ship to Virginia should a younger man of sufficient experience be wanting. You, young sir, I perceive by your dress and looks, have not been to sea; or you would be the proper person to sail in search of the missing one.”

“No, sir,” answered Vaughan, “but I have been for some time a student at Cambridge, where I have diligently studied mathematics, and being well acquainted with the mode by which ships are navigated, although I am ignorant of the duties of a seaman, I might, with the aid of a sailing master, be able without difficulty to reach the country of which Batten told us. Gilbert has already made two voyages to the Thames, and one as far as the Firth of Forth, so that he is not altogether ignorant of sea affairs, and lacks not willingness for the purpose.”

“So I should judge,” observed the captain, casting an approving look at Gilbert; “I like your spirit, young man; and you may trust to me that I will do all I can to forward your views. Had my son Roger been at home, the matter might quickly have been arranged; but he has long been gone on a voyage to the East Indies with Sir Edward Michaelbourn, on board the Tiger, a stout ship, in which Captain John Davis sailed as pilot. There went also a pinnace named the Tiger’s Whelp. I would the good ship were back again, for Roger is my only son, and his sister Cicely begins to fret about him.”

“Gladly would I serve under your son, should he before long return and be willing to sail for Virginia,” replied Vaughan.

“Would you be as willing to serve under me, young sir?” asked the captain, glancing from under his shaggy eyebrows at Vaughan; “for verily, should not Roger soon come back, I should be greatly inclined to fit out a stout ship, and take Cicely on board and all my household goods, and to settle down in the New World. Cicely has her brother’s spirit, and will be well pleased to engage in such a venture; as I will promise her to leave directions for Roger to join us should he return after we have sailed.”

“I could desire nothing better, Captain Layton,” answered the young man; “our mother will indeed rejoice to hear that you have been so ready to comply with her request. What you propose far surpasses her expectations.”

Captain Amyas Layton had been a man of action all his life, and age had not quenched his ardour. While pacing up and down, his thoughts were rapidly at work; every now and then he addressed his young guests, evidently turning over in his mind the various plans which suggested themselves.

“My old shipmate Captain George Weymouth is now in England,” he said, “I will write to learn his opinion. I have another friend, Captain Bartholomew Gosnell. I know not if he has again sailed since his last voyage to America; if not, I will find him out. He will, to a certainty, have useful information to give us.”

Thus the captain ran over the names of various brave commanders, who had at different times visited the shores of North America. He counted much also, he said, on Captain John Davis, who had sailed along those coasts; though he had gained his chief renown in the northern seas, amid the ice-mountains which float there throughout the year—his name having been given to those straits through which he passed into that region of cold. Vaughan and Gilbert had been listening attentively to all he said, desiring to report the same to their mother and Lettice, when the sound of a horse’s hoofs were heard in the paved yard by the side of the house.

“Here comes Cicely with Barnaby, and we shall ere long have dinner, for which I doubt not, my young friends, you will be ready,” observed the captain.

Gilbert acknowledged that his appetite was becoming somewhat keen; but Vaughan made no remark. He was of an age to watch with some interest for the appearance of Mistress Cicely Layton, though of her existence he had not heard till her father mentioned her.

He had not long to wait before a side-door opened, and a young damsel with straw hat on head and riding-habit fitting closely to a graceful form, entered the hall. She turned a surprised glance at the strangers, and then gave an inquiring one at her father, who forthwith made known their guests to her as the sons of an old friend; on which she put forth her hand and frankly welcomed them. The colour of her cheek heightened slightly as Vaughan, with the accustomed gallantry of the day, pressed her hand to his lips, and especially as his eyes met hers with a glance of admiration in them which her beauty had inspired. Truly, Cicely Layton was a maiden formed in nature’s most perfect mould—at least, so thought Vaughan Audley. Gilbert also considered her a very sweet girl, though not equal in all respects to his sister Lettice, who was fairer and somewhat taller and more graceful; but then Gilbert always declared that Lettice was perfection itself.

Having delivered certain messages she had brought from Plymouth for her father, Cicely addressed a few remarks to the young gentlemen; then, saying that she must go to prepare for serving up the dinner, which, as it was near noon, ought soon to be on the table, she dropped a courtesy and left the room. Each time the door opened, Vaughan turned his eyes in that direction, expecting to see Mistress Cicely enter; but first came a waiting-maid to spread a damask table-cloth of snowy whiteness, and then came Barnaby Toplight with knives and forks; then Becky came back with plates. “This must be she,” thought Vaughan; but no—it was Barnaby again with a huge covered dish, followed by Becky with other