The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. "Much that I would willingly forget. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of "credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for, in those days, every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. CHAPTER II.
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