"Oft shall I sigh for thee and home,
And all those joys from which I parted."
"Aye, so he does, poor fellow, I'll be bound to say. What would I give
to see his dear, smiling face!" said Mrs Beazeley.
"And I'd give no little, missus, myself. But still, it's the duty for
every man to serve his country; and so ought Tom, as his father did
before him. I shall be glad to see him back: but I'm not sorry that
he's gone. Our ships must be manned, old woman; and if they take men by
force, it's only because they won't volunteer--that's all. When they're
once on board they don't mind it. You women require pressing just as
much as the men, and it's all much of a muchness."
"How's that Tom?"
"Why, when we make love, and ask you to marry, don't you always pout,
and say, `No!' You like being kissed, but we must take it by force. So
it is with manning a ship. The men all say, `No;' but when they are
once there, they like the service very much--only, you see, like you,
they want pressing. Don't Tom write and say that he's quite happy, and
don't care where he is so long as he's with Jacob?"
"Yes; that's true; but they say Jacob is to be discharged and come home,
now that he's come to a fortune; and what will Tom say then?"
"Why, that _is_ the worst of it. I believe that Jacob's heart is in the
right place; but still, riches spoil a man. But we shall see. If Jacob
don't prove `true blue,' I'll never put faith in man again. But there
be changes in this world, that's sartin.
"We all have our taste of the ups and the downs,
As Fortune dispenses her smiles and her frowns;
But may we not hope, if she's frowning to-day,
That to-morrow she'll lend us the light of her ray.
"I only wish Jacob was here--that's all."
"Then you have your wish, my good old friend," cried I, running up to
Tom and seizing his hand. But old Tom was so taken by surprise that he
started back and lost his equilibrium, dragging me after him, and we
rolled on the turf together. Nor was this the only accident, for old
Mrs Beazeley was so alarmed that she also sprang from the bench fixed
in the half of the old boat stuck on end, and threw herself back against
it. The boat, rotten when first put up, and with the disadvantage of
exposure to the elements for many years, could no longer stand such
pressure. It gave way to the sudden force applied by the old woman, and
she and the boat went down together, she screaming and scuffling among
the rotten planks, which now, after so many years close intimacy, were
induced to part company. I was first on my legs, and ran to the
assistance of Mrs Beazeley, who was half smothered with dust and flakes
of dry pitch; and old Tom coming to my assistance, we put the old woman
on her legs again.
"O deary me!" cried the old woman--"O deary me! I do believe my hip is
out! Lord, Mr Jacob, how you frightened me!"
"Yes," said old Tom, shaking me warmly by the hand, "we were all taken
aback, old boat and all. What a shindy you have made, bowling us all
down like ninepins! Well, my boy, I'm glad to see you, and
notwithstanding your gear, you're Jacob Faithful still."
"I hope so," replied I; and we then adjourned to the house, where I made
them acquainted with all that had passed, and what I intended to do
relative to obtaining Tom's discharge. I then left them, promising to
return soon, and, hailing a wherry going up the river, proceeded to my
old friend the Dominie, of whose welfare, as well as Stapleton's and
Mary's, I had been already assured.
But as I passed through Putney Bridge I thought I might as well call
first upon old Stapleton; and I desired the waterman to pull in. I
hastened to Stapleton's lodgings, and went upstairs, where I found Mary
in earnest conversation with a very good-looking young man, in a
sergeant's uniform of the 93rd Regiment. Mary, who was even handsomer
than when I had left her, starting up, at first did not appear to
recognise me, then coloured up to the forehead, as she welcomed me with
a constraint I had never witnessed before. The sergeant appeared
inclined to keep his ground; but on my taking her hand and telling her
that I brought a message from a person whom I trusted she had not
forgotten, he gave her a nod and walked downstairs. Perhaps there was a
severity in my countenance as I said, "Mary, I do not know whether,
after what I have seen, I ought to give the message; and the pleasure I
anticipated in meeting you again is destroyed by what I have now
witnessed. How disgraceful is it thus to play with a man's feelings--to
write to him, assuring him of your regard and constancy, and at the same
time encouraging another."
Mary hung down her head. "If I have done wrong, Mr Faithful," said
she, after a pause, "I have not wronged Tom; what I have written I
felt."
"If that is the case, why do you wrong another person? why encourage
another young man only to make him unhappy?"
"I have promised him nothing; but why does not Tom come back and look
after me? I can't mope here by myself; I have no one to keep company
with; my father is always away at the alehouse, and I must have somebody
to talk to. Besides, Tom is away, and may be away a long while, and
absence cures love in men, although it does not in women."
"It appears then, Mary, that you wish to have two strings to your bow,
in case of accident."
"Should the first string break, a second would be very acceptable,"
replied Mary. "But it is always this way," continued she, with
increasing warmth; "I never can be in a situation which is not right;
whenever I do anything which may appear improper, so certain do _you_
make your appearance when least expected and least wished for--as if you
were born to be my constant accuser."
"Does not your own conscience accuse you, Mary?"
"Mr Faithful," repeated she, very warmly, "you are not my father
confessor; but do as you please--write to Tom if you please, and tell
him all you have seen, and anything you may think--make him and make me
miserable and unhappy--do it, I pray. It will be a friendly act; and as
you are now a great man, you may persuade Tom that I am a jilt and a
good-for-nothing."
Here Mary laid her hands on the table and buried her face in them.
"I did not come here to be your censor, Mary; you are certainly at
liberty to act as you please, without my having any right to interfere;
but as Tom is my earliest and best friend, so far as his interests and
happiness are concerned, I shall carefully watch over them. We have
been so long together, and I am so well acquainted with all his
feelings, that I really believe that if ever there was a young man
sincerely and devotedly attached to a woman, he is so to you; and I will
add, that if ever there was a young man who deserved love in return, it
is Tom. When I left, not a month back, he desired me to call upon you
as soon as I could, and assure you of his unalterable attachment; and I
am now about to procure his discharge, that he may be able to return.
All his thoughts are upon this point, and he is now waiting with the
utmost impatience the arrival of it, that he may again be in your
company; you can best judge whether his return will or will not be a
source of happiness."
Mary raised her head--her face was wet with tears.
"Then he will soon be back again, and I shall see him. Indeed, his
return will be no source of unhappiness, if I can make him happy--
indeed, it shall not, Mr Faithful; but pray don't tell him of my
foolish conduct, pray don't--why make him unhappy?--I entreat you not to
do it. I will not do so again. Promise me, Jacob, will you?" continued
Mary, taking me by the arm, and looking beseechingly in my face.
"Mary, I will never be a mischief-maker; but recollect I exact the
performance of your promise."
"Oh, and I will keep it, now that I know he will soon be home. I can, I
think I can--I'm sure I can wait a month or two without flirting. But I
do wish that I was not left so much alone. I wish Tom was at home to
take care of me, for there is no one else. I can't take care of
myself."
I saw by Mary's countenance that she was in earnest, and I therefore
made friends with her, and we conversed for two hours, chiefly about
Tom. When I left her she had recovered her usual spirits, and said at
parting, looking archly at me, "Now, you will see how wise and prudent I
shall be."
I shook my head, and left her that I might find out [my] old friend
Stapleton, who, as usual, was at the door of the public-house, smoking
his pipe. At first he did not recognise me, for when I accosted him he
put his open hand to his ear as usual, and desired me to speak a little
louder, but I answered, "Nonsense, Stapleton, that won't do with me."
He then took his pipe out of his mouth, and looked me full in the face.
"Jacob, as I'm alive! Didn't know you in your long togs--thought you
was a gentleman wanting a boat. Well, I hardly need say how glad I am
to see you after so long; that's no more than human natur'. And how's
Tom? Have you seen Mary?"
These two questions enabled me to introduce the subject that I wished.
I told him of the attachment and troth pledged between the two, and how
wrong it was for him to leave her so much alone. The old man agreed
with me, and said, that as to talking to the men, that was on Mary's
part nothing but "human natur'"; and that as for Tom wishing to be at
home and seeing her again, that also was nothing but "human natur'"; but
that he would smoke his pipe at home in future, and keep the soldiers
out of the house. Satisfied with this assurance I left him, and taking
another wherry went up to Brentford to see the Dominie.