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 "I'll make 'em the offer," says he, "and though they do not agree to give her freedom, they may yet suffer me to see her time and again, if I work well."

"’Tis strange," says she. "Your child has told me all your history. Had I learnt it from other lips, I might have set you down for rogues, destitute of heart or conscience; yet, with this evidence before me, I must needs regard you and your dear daughter as more noble than many whose deeds are writ in gold. 'Tis a lesson to teach me faith in the goodness of God, who redeems his creatures' follies, with one touch of love. Be of good cheer, my friend," adds she, laying her thin hand on his arm. "There is hope. I would not have accepted this ransom–no, not for all your daughter's tears and entreaties–without good assurance that I, in my turn, might deliver her."

I asked the old gentlewoman how this might be accomplished.

"My niece," says she, dwelling on the word with a smile, as if happy in the alliance, "my niece, coming to Barbary of her free will, is not a slave like those captured in warfare and carried there by force. She remains there as a hostage for me, and will be free to return when I send the price of my ransom."

"Is that a great sum?"

"Three thousand gold ducats,–about one thousand pounds English."

"Why, Madam," says Dawson, "we have nothing, being now reduced to our last pieces. And if you have the goodness to raise this money, Heaven only knows how long it may be ere you succeed. 'Tis a fortnight's journey, at the least, to England, and then you have to deal with your