IN WHICH I TAKE POSSESSION OF MY OWN HOUSE, AND THINK THAT IT LOOKS VERY
ILL-FURNISHED WITHOUT A WIFE--TOM'S DISCHARGE IS SENT OUT, BUT BY
ACCIDENT IT NEVER REACHES HIM--I TAKE MY NEW STATION IN SOCIETY.
On my arrival the front gates were opened by the gardener's wife, who
made me a profound courtesy. The gardener soon afterwards made his
appearance, hat in hand. Everything was neat and in good order. I
entered the house, and as soon as possible rid myself of their
obsequious attentions. I wished to be alone. Powerful feelings crowded
on my mind. I hastened to Mr Turnbull's study, and sat down in the
chair so lately occupied by him. The proud feeling of possession,
softened into gratitude to heaven, and sorrow at his death, came over
me, and I remained for a long while in a deep reverie. "And all this,
and more, much more, are mine," I mentally exclaimed; "the sailor before
the mast, the waterman on the river, the charity-boy, the orphan sits
down in quiet possession of luxury and wealth. What have I done to
deserve all this?" My heart told me nothing, or if anything, it was
almost valueless, and I poured forth my soul in thanks to heaven. I
felt more composed after I had performed this duty, and my thoughts then
dwelt upon my benefactor. I surveyed the room--the drawings, the furs
and skins, the harpoons and other instruments, all remaining in their
respective places, as when I last had an interview with Mr Turnbull. I
remembered his kindness, his singleness of heart, his honesty, his good
sense, and his real worth; and I shed many tears for his loss. My
thoughts then passed to Sarah Drummond, and I felt much uneasiness on
that score. Would she receive me, or would she still remember what I
had been? I recollected her kindness and good-will towards me. I
weighed these, and my present condition, against my origin and my former
occupation; and could not ascertain how the scale might turn. I shall
soon see, thought I. To-morrow, even, may decide the question. The
gardener's wife knocked at the door, and announced that my bed was
prepared. I went to sleep, dreaming of Sarah, young Tom, the Dominie
and Mary Stapleton.
I was up early the next morning, and hastened to the hotel; when, having
arranged my person to the best of my power (but at the same time never
so little to my satisfaction), I proceeded to the house of Mr Drummond.
I knocked; and this time I was not desired to wait in the hall, but was
immediately ushered up into the drawing-room. Sarah Drummond was
sitting alone at her drawing. My name was announced as I entered. She
started from her chair, and blushed deeply as she moved towards me. We
joined hands in silence. I was breathless with emotion. Never had she
appeared so beautiful. Neither party appeared willing to break silence;
at last I faltered out, "Miss Drummond,"--and then I stopped.
"Mr Faithful," replied she; and then, after a break--"How very silly
this is; I ought to have congratulated you upon your safe return, and
upon your good fortune; and, indeed, Mr Faithful, no one can do so more
sincerely."
"Miss Drummond," replied I, confused, "when I was an orphan, a
charity-boy, and a waterman, you called me Jacob, if the alteration in
my prospects induces you to address me in so formal a manner--if we are
in future to be on such different terms--I can only say that I wish that
I were again--Jacob Faithful, the waterman."
"Nay," replied she, "recollect that it was your own choice to be a
waterman. You might have been different--very different. You might at
this time have been a partner with my father, for he said so but last
night, when we were talking about you. But you refused all; you threw
away your education, your talents, your good qualities, from a foolish
pride, which you considered independence. My father almost humbled
himself to you--not that it is ever humiliating to acknowledge and
attempt to repair a fault, but still he did more than could be expected
from most people. Your friends persuaded you, but you rejected their
advice; and what was still more unpardonable, even I had no influence
over you. As long as you punished yourself I did not upbraid you; but
now that you have been so fortunate, I tell you plainly--"
"What?"
"That it is more than you deserve, that's all."
"You have said but the truth, Miss Drummond. I was very proud and very
foolish; but I had repented of my folly long before I was pressed; and I
candidly acknowledge that I do not merit the good fortune I have met
with. Can I say more?"
"No; I am satisfied with your repentance and acknowledgment. So, now
you may sit down, and make yourself agreeable."
"Before I do that, allow me to ask, as you address me as Mr Faithful,
how am I to address you? I should not wish to be considered
impertinent."
"My name is Miss Drummond, but those who feel intimate with me call me
Sarah."
"I may reply that my name is Faithful, but those who feel intimate with
me call me Jacob."
"Very true; but allow me to observe that you show very little tact. You
should never force a lady into a corner. If I appear affronted when you
call me Sarah, then you will do wise to fall back upon Miss Drummond.
But why do you fix your eyes upon me so earnestly?"
"I cannot help it, and must beg your pardon; but you are so improved in
appearance since I last saw you. I thought no one could be more
perfect, but--"
"Well, that's not a bad beginning, Jacob. I like to hear of my
perfections. Now follow up your _but_."
"I hardly know what I was going to say, but I think it was that I do not
feel as if I ought or can address you otherwise than as Miss Drummond."
"Oh, you've thought better of it, have you? Well, I begin to think
myself that you look so well in your present dress, and have become so
very different a person, that I ought not to address you by any other
name than Mr Faithful. So now we are agreed."
"That's not what I mean to say."
"Well, then, let me know what you did mean to say."
This puzzling question fortunately did not require an answer, for Mr
Drummond came into the room and extended his hand.
"My dear Jacob," said he, in the most friendly manner, "I'm delighted to
see you back again, and to have the pleasure of congratulating you on
your good fortune. But you have business to transact which will not
admit of any delay. You must prove the will, and arrange with the
lawyers as soon as possible. Will you come now? All the papers are
below, and I have the whole morning to spare. We will be back to
dinner, Sarah, if Jacob has no other engagement."
"I have none," replied I; "and shall be most happy to avail myself of
your kindness. Miss Drummond, I wish you a good morning."
"_Au revoir_, Mr Faithful," replied Sarah, courtesying formally, with a
mocking smile.
The behaviour of Mr Drummond towards me was most kind and parental, and
my eyes were often suffused with tears during the occupation of the
morning. The most urgent business was got through, and an interview
with Mr Turnbull's solicitor put the remainder in progress; still it
was so late when we had accomplished it, that I had no time to dress.
On my return, Mrs Drummond received me with her usual kindness. I
narrated, during the evening, my adventures since we parted, and took
that opportunity to acknowledge to Mr Drummond how bitterly I had
repented my folly, and I may add ingratitude, towards him.
"Jacob," said he, as we were sitting at the tea-table with Mrs Drummond
and Sarah, "I knew at the time that you were toiling on the river for
shillings that you were the inheritor of thousands; for I not only
witnessed but read the will of Mr Turnbull; but I thought it best that
you should have a lesson which you would never forget in after life.
There is no such thing in this world as independence, unless in a savage
state. In society we are all mutually dependent upon each other.
Independence of mind we may have, but no more. As a waterman, you were
dependent upon your customers, as every poor man must be upon those who
have more means; and in refusing my _offers_ you were obliged to apply
for employment to others. The rich are as entirely dependent upon
others as the poor; they depend upon them for their food, their clothes,
their necessities, and their luxuries. Such ever will be the case in
society, and the more refined the society may be--the more civilised its
parts--the greater is the mutual dependence. Still it is an error
originating in itself from high feelings, and therefore must be
considered as an error on the right side; but recollect how much you
might have thrown away had not you, in the first place, secured such a
friend as Mr Turnbull; and secondly, if the death of that friend had
not so soon put you in possession."
I was but too ready to acknowledge the truth of these remarks. The
evening passed away so rapidly that it was midnight before I rose to
take my leave, and I returned to the hotel as happy in my mind, and as
grateful as ever any mortal could possibly be. The next day I removed
to the house left me by Mr Turnbull, and the first order I gave was for
a wherry. Such was the force of habit, I could not do without one; and
half my time was spent upon the river, pulling every day down to Mr
Drummond's, and returning in the evening, or late at night. Thus passed
away two months, during which I occasionally saw the Dominie, the
Stapletons, and old Tom Beazeley. I had exerted myself to procure Tom's
discharge, and at last had the pleasure of telling the old people that
it was to go out by the next packet. By the Drummonds I was received as
a member of the family--there was no hindrance to my being alone with
Sarah for hours; and although I had not ventured to declare my
sentiments, they appeared to be well understood, as well by the parents
as by Sarah herself.
Two days after I had communicated this welcome intelligence to the old
couple, as I was sitting at breakfast, attended by the gardener and his
wife (for I had made no addition to my establishment), what was my
surprise at the appearance of young _Tom_, who entered the room as
usual, laughing as he held out his hand.
"Tom!" exclaimed I, "why, how did you come here?"
"By water, Jacob, as you may suppose."
"But how have you received your discharge? Is the ship come home?"
"I hope not; the fact is, I discharged myself, Jacob."
"What! did you desert?"
"Even so. I had three reasons for so doing. In the first place, I
could not remain without you; in the second, my mother wrote to say Mary
was taken up with a sodger; and the third was, I was put into the report
for punishment, and should have been flogged, as sure as the captain had
a pair of epaulettes."
"Well, but sit down and tell me all about it. You know your discharge
is obtained."
"Yes, thanks to you, Jacob; all the better, for now they won't look
after me. All's well that ends well. After you went away, I presume I
was not in the very best of humours; and that rascal of a master's mate
who had us pressed, thought proper to bully me beyond all bearing. One
day he called me a lying scoundrel; upon which I forgot that I was on
board of a man-of-war, and replied that he was a confounded cheat, and
that he had better pay me his debt of two guineas for bringing him down
the river. He reported me on the quarter-deck for calling him a cheat,
and Captain Maclean, who, you know, won't stand any nonsense, heard the
arguments on both sides; upon which he declared that the conduct of the
master's mate was not that of an officer or a gentleman, and therefore
_he_ should leave the ship; and that my language to my superior officer
was subversive to the discipline of the service, and therefore he should
give me a good flogging. Now, Jacob, you know that if the officers
don't pay their debts, Captain Maclean always does, and with interest
into the bargain; so finding that I was in for it, and no mistake, I
swam ashore the night before Black Monday, and made my way to Miramichi,
without any adventure, except a tussle with a sergeant of marines, whom
I left for dead about three miles out of the town. At Miramichi I got
on board of a timber ship, and here I am."
"I am sorry that you deserted, nevertheless," replied I; "it may come to
mischief."
"Never fear; the people on the river know that I have my discharge, and
I'm safe enough."
"Have you seen Mary!"
"Yes, and all's right in that quarter. I shall build another wherry,
wear my badge and dress, and stick above bridge. When I'm all settled,
I'll splice, and live along with the old couple."
"But will Mary consent to live there? It is so quiet and retired that
she won't like it."
"Mary Stapleton has given herself airs enough in all conscience, and has
had her own way quite enough. Mary Beazeley will do as her husband
wishes, or I will know the reason why."
"We shall see, Tom. Bachelors' wives are always best managed, they say.
But now you want money to buy your boat."
"Yes, if you'll lend it to me; I don't like to take it away from the old
people; and I'll pay you when I can, Jacob."
"No; you must accept this, Tom; and when you marry you must accept
something more," replied I, handing the notes to him.
"With all my heart, Jacob. I never can repay you for what you have done
for me, and so I may just as well increase the debt."
"That's good logic, Tom."
"Quite as good as independence; is it not, Jacob?"
"Better, much better, as I know to my cost," replied I, laughing.
Tom finished his breakfast, and then took his leave. After breakfast,
as usual, I went to the boat-house, and unchaining my wherry, pulled up
the river, which I had not hitherto done; my attendance upon Sarah
having invariably turned the bow of my wherry in the opposite direction.
I swept by the various residences on the banks of the river until I
arrived opposite to that of Mr Wharncliffe, and perceived a lady and
gentleman in the garden. I knew them at once, and, as they were
standing close to the wall, I pulled in and saluted them.
"Do you recollect me?" said I to them, smiling.
"Yes," replied the lady, "I do recollect your face--surely--it is
Faithful, the waterman!"
"No, I am not a waterman; I am only amusing myself in my own boat."
"Come up," replied Mr Wharncliffe; "we can't shake hands with you at
that distance."