It was here, too, that Angeline, the spirit of whose sweet face had been with him in his wanderings, used to sit at her flax-wheel, spinning thread that was famous in Fly Market.
Could this be a sweet dream, a beautiful delusion, a spirit-spell that moves the soul with pictures of love and enchantment, and from which some stern reality would soon awake him and dispel the charm?
No, it was reality, appealing more forcibly to all that was true and kindly in his nature, and filling his eyes with tears.
The inn-keeper noticed the effect it was having on his feelings, and made an effort to divert his attention.

"Looks kind o' natural after bein' round the world doesn't it, Tite ?" he enquired.
"Yes--seems like home again," was the quiet reply.
"Zounds!" exclaimed the inn-keeper, suddenly; "but there's somethin' heavy in it." In attempting to lift the valise from the wagon it had fallen to the ground under its great weight.

The inn-keeper shook his head and rubbed his hands.

"Had a lucky voyage, I reckon," he concluded.
"More than eighty pounds of solid gold in that," returned Tite, coolly.
The mention of so much gold astonished and delighted the inn-keeper.
"There'll be such a time when the town hears that!" said he.

"There'll be enough o' them that'll call you their friend." "Left three times as much more in the city," resumed Tite.