"Begone, Hugh Price! Your life is in my hands; but I do not want it. You are not prepared to die. Get thee hence, lest I forget myself." Price left the room, and Sir Albert, turning to Berkeley, asked:

"Have you signed the pardon, governor?" "Here it is."

"Now order his release."

Half an hour later, Robert, who expected to suffer death on the scaffold, was liberated.

"I owe this to you, kind sir,” he cried, seizing Sir Albert's hand.

"I promised to save you, and I always keep my promise.

"Do you know aught of my mother, sister, and Ester?"

"All are safe aboard my vessel."

"Why do you take such interest in us, Sir Albert? You are like a father to me.

"Do you

remember your father?"

"I can just remember him. He was a noble man with a kind heart. Did you know him?" "Yes; he was my friend. I knew him well." "Would to heaven he had remained; our misery would not have been so great.'

"We are all in the hands of inexorable fate; but let us talk no more. You will have a full pardon

from Charles II. soon, and then that old fool will

not dare to harm you.

Not only will you be par

doned but Ester Goffe as well."

"How know you this?" asked Robert.

"I have sent to the king for the pardons, and he will deny me nothing.'

"Then I shall wed Ester and return to my father's plantation to pass my days in peace.

"Do so, Robert, and ever remember that whatever you have, you owe it to your unfortunate father. God grant that your life may be less stormy

than his."

When they went on board the Despair, there was a general rejoicing.

"Heaven bless you, our deliverer!" cried Rebecca, placing her arms about the neck of Sir Albert and kissing him again and again.

Years seemed to have rolled away, and once more the father felt the soft, warm arms of his baby about his neck. The ancient eyes grew dim, and tears, welling up, overflowed and trickled down the furrowed cheeks.

CHAPTER XXIII.

CONCLUSION.

So live, that when thy summons comes to join

The innumerable caravan, that moves

To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

-BRYANT.

THAT strange ship Despair still lingered before the headquarters of the governor, much to his annoyance. In February, 1677, when the ships and soldiers came from England, they brought a full and free pardon for Robert Stevens and Ester Goffe.

"What power hath that strange old wizard that he leads kings as it were by the nose?" asked the governor.

"Fore God, I know not, governor," put in Hugh Price. "I would rather all the rebels in Bacon's army should have escaped than this one."

As Robert was about to depart from the vessel

to repair his father's estates, near Jamestown, Sir Albert took him aside and said:

"Money you will find in abundance for your es

tate.

Henceforth, take no part in the quarrels of your country. Hot-blooded politicians bring on these quarrels, and they leave the common people to fight their battles. The care of your sister, she who is to be your wife, and your unfortunate mother will engage all your time."

"But Mr. Price, what shall I do with him?" "Harm him not."

"He will harm me, I trow."

"No, not with the king's favor on you; he dare not."

Robert promised to heed all the excellent advice of Sir Albert, and he set forth with his slaves and a full purse to repair the ruined estates on the James River. He met many old friends to whom he was kind. They asked him many questions regarding his mysterious benefactor; but Robert assured them that he was as much a mystery to him as to them.

Hugh Price and his associate, Giles Peram, were nonplussed, puzzled and intimidated by the strong, vigorous, and at the same time mysterious arm which had suddenly been raised to protect him whom they hated.

"It is extraordinary! It is very extraordinary!"

declared Peram, clearing his throat and strutting over the floor.

"Where is your wife?"

"On board the ship Despair."

"Bring her home. Why do you not send and bring her home? The trouble is over, and we have put down the rebellion."

"I will."

After the arrival of the commission and soldiers from England, the hanging went on at a brisk pace, and Mrs. Price had lived like one stupefied on board the Despair, not daring to go ashore. She seldom spoke, and never save when addressed. She acted so strangely, that her daughter feared she was losing her mind. All day long she would sit with her sad eyes on the floor, and she had not smiled since she came aboard.

When the messenger came from the shore, with the command from Hugh Price for her to come to the home he had provided, she started like a guilty person detected in crime. Turning her great, sad eyes on the man who had been their protector in their hour of peril, she asked:

"Shall I go?"

"The place of a good wife is with her husband," he answered.

Then Rebecca, appealing to him, asked:

"Must I obey Hugh Price?"