The "Ione" had been upwards of three years on the station, and of late
the sick list had been greatly increased, still the commander persevered
in his efforts to capture slavers; but the Arabs, grown cautious,
managed to avoid him, and for some time not a single dhow had been
taken.
One morning, as the ship lay becalmed on the shining ocean, with the
sun's rays beaming down as from a furnace on the heads of the crew, the
smoke of a steamer was seen coming from the southward. She rapidly
approached, and coming nearer, made her number. She was a man-of-war.
Had she came out to relieve the "Ione"? Every eye on board watched her
eagerly. Stopping her way a boat was lowered; her commander came on
board. No sooner were the contents of the despatch he brought known
than cheers rose from fore and aft, joined in by the poor fellows in
their hammocks. The "Ione" was to return home immediately. Before long
a breeze sprang up, the two ships parted, and the corvette, under all
sail, steered for the Cape.
"The only thing I regret is going home without nearing of young Garth,"
observed the commander, as he walked the deck with his first lieutenant;
"I would have given much to find him, but I fear that when he fell into
their hands, the rascally Arabs killed him."
"I am inclined to your notion, sir," answered Mr Hanson; "but I still
have a lingering hope that by some means or other he may have escaped,
although, as, notwithstanding all our inquiries and the rewards offered,
no tidings of him had reached Zanzibar when we left the island, it is, I
confess, very faint indeed."
Charley Meadows was the only person in the midshipmen's berth who would
not abandon all expectation of again seeing his friend, and who would
very gladly have remained another year on the station with the chance of
hearing of Ned. He dreaded also the melancholy duty which might fall to
his lot of informing Lieutenant Pack and Miss Sarah and sweet Mary of
Ned's fate.
As the ship drew near England he thought over and over again of what he
should say; no one had written, as the commander had been unwilling to
alarm the boy's friends while any uncertainty existed. They would,
therefore, on seeing the announcement in the papers of the "Ione's"
return, be looking out eagerly for him. The corvette had a rapid
passage, and on reaching Portsmouth was at once paid off. Charley
Meadows had written to his father, who was still commander of the
coast-guard station at Longview, giving an account of what had occurred,
and begging him to break the intelligence to Lieutenant Pack. As soon
as he was at liberty he hurried home. One of the first questions he put
on his arrival was, "Have you told them, father, about poor Ned?"
"No; for I only received your letter yesterday, and have been unable to
get over and see our friends. It will be sad news to them. Whenever I
have called on Pack and his sister, their nephew was always the subject
of their conversation."
Charley thus found that, after all, he must be the first to carry the
sad intelligence to his friends. He, however, possessed the most
valuable description of courage; he was morally, as well as physically,
brave. The duty had to be performed, and he resolved to do it
forthwith. As his father could not go, he set out by himself. Now and
then he stopped to consider what he should say, and then hurried on,
wishing to say it at once. Just before he reached Triton Cottage, he
saw Mr Pack coming along the road; the old lieutenant stopped and
looked at Charley as he approached, putting out his hand.
"Glad to welcome you, my lad. I saw that the `Ione' had arrived and was
to be paid off, so was looking out for you; but where is Ned? I thought
you would have come down together."
Now came the moment Charley had dreaded.
"I will tell you how it happened, sir, directly, but Ned is not with us.
I don't believe he is lost, and no one saw him dead; but the Arabs got
hold of him, and he has not since turned up."
"What! hasn't he come home with you?" exclaimed the lieutenant. "You
don't mean to say that our Ned is dead?"
"No, sir; but he's lost, and we don't know what has become of him," and
Charley then gave a full account of all that had occurred.
The old lieutenant listened attentively. "Poor Sally! poor Mary!" he
murmured, as, leaning on Charley's shoulder, he walked back to the
house. "It will well-nigh break their hearts to hear that he is dead,
but I for one won't believe it; I tell you, Meadows, I can't believe
it," his voice growing more husky as he spoke. "I expect to see Ned a
commander before I die; he is sure to get on in the service. Sally
won't believe it either; she's got too much good sense for that. Come
along, however, you shall tell her and Mary about it, for I have not
taken in all the particulars."
The lieutenant stumped on, but Charley felt the hand which rested on his
shoulder press more and more heavily. They together entered the
parlour, where Miss Sarah and Mary were seated.
"Ned, Ned!" cried Miss Sally, mistaking him for her nephew; but she
quickly saw her mistake, while Mary knew him at once.
"Where is Ned?" they both inquired, after they had shaken hands, Mary
looking up into his face with an inquiring glance.
"He hasn't come home with us," said Charley, "and Mr Pack will tell you
what I have told him."
The lieutenant was glad of this opportunity to give his own version of
the story, for he was afraid Charley would alarm his sister and Mary.
"You see Ned's not come home in the `Ione,' and that's a disappointment,
I'll own. That he is all right I have no doubt, somewhere out in Africa
among some Arabs who got hold of him while performing his duty--you may
be sure Ned would be always doing that--and he hasn't yet been able to
make his way down to the coast, or at all events to get on board an
English ship. He'll do so by-and-by though. You two must not fret
about him in the meantime. I know what Ned's made of; he has a fine
constitution, and is not likely to succumb to the climate; and as to the
Arabs, except in the matter of slavery, they are not a bad set of
fellows."
Thus the lieutenant ran on, until Miss Sarah, turning to Charley, asked
him to give a more particular account. This he did, omitting no
circumstance which might support the idea that Ned had escaped.
Miss Sarah every now and then interrupted him with an ejaculation or a
question, but poor Mary sat looking very pale and anxious, with her eyes
fixed upon his countenance all the time and not uttering a word. Tom
Baraka had seen Charley arrive with the lieutenant, and guessing that he
had belonged to the "Ione," and had brought news of Ned, waited outside,
hoping to learn from him why Ned had not come home. At length, however,
unable to endure the suspense, he took the privilege of a favoured
servant and came into the room.
"You come from de `Ione,' massa?" he said, looking at Charley. "Pray
tell me why Massa Ned not come back. Hab him gone in nudder ship?"
Charley, who remembered Tom, briefly told him the particulars of Ned's
disappearance.
"Den I go an' look for him!" exclaimed Tom. "He go search for my boy,
what I do better dan go look for him?"
"O do, do!" cried Mary, springing up. "I would go too if I could be of
any use."
"You do not know the character of the country, Miss Mary," said Charley;
"but if Tom would go, if he escapes being caught by the Arabs, he would
have a better chance of finding him than any one else. How to get there
would be the difficulty, unless he could obtain a passage on board a
man-of-war going out to the coast."
"Yes, yes, I go!" cried Tom; "I find a way, nebber fear."
"We must think the matter over, and consider what can be done," said the
lieutenant. "Ask your father, Charley, to come here and give me the
benefit of his advice, and I will write to Hanson, they'll have his
address at the Admiralty, and he will come down here and tell us what he
thinks best, or I'll go up to London myself and see their lordships.
They would not wish a promising young officer to be lost without taking
all possible steps for his recovery."
Charley's spirits rose as he found his friends even more sanguine than
himself as to the finding of Ned. They talked on and on without any
material alteration in their proposed plan. The lieutenant said that he
would write to Mr Farrance, as in duty bound, to tell him of Ned's
disappearance, and to ask his advice. "He has the means of helping us,
and judging from the generous way in which he has acted towards Ned, I
feel sure that we can rely on him," he observed.
Charley went back with a message to his father, who came over that
evening, and the subject was again discussed in all its bearings, indeed
the old lieutenant could think and talk of nothing else. He had, in the
meantime, despatched his letters to Mr Farrance and the late first
lieutenant of the "Ione," and determined, by the advice of Mr Meadows,
to take no steps until he heard from them.
The next day Charley again came over, and greatly interested Mary and
her aunt by the account he gave of their adventures in the Indian Ocean.
He inspired Mary with a strong wish to see the horrible traffic in
slaves put an end to.
"If I had a fortune I would devote it to that object," she exclaimed
enthusiastically. "What sufferings the poor little children have to
endure; and then the agony of their parents as they are dragged off from
their homes to die on their way to the sea, or on board those horrible
dhows, or to be carried into slavery, which must be worse than death."
Her remarks had greater influence on Charley than even the miserable
state of the slaves on board the dhows had produced. "I will do all I
can to try and get back to the coast as soon as possible, or if an
expedition is formed to go up the country to look for Ned I'll get my
father to allow me to join it; I am pretty well seasoned to the climate
by this time--never had an hour's illness while I was away."
By return of post a letter was received from Mr Farrance. He
sympathised with the lieutenant and his sister in their anxiety about
their nephew; said that he would be glad to defray the expenses should
any plan be formed for discovering him, and begged to see Mr Pack in
town as soon as possible.
The old lieutenant accordingly at once made preparations for his
journey. Fortunately, before he started, he received a letter from Mr
Hanson, saying that in the course of three or four days he would come
down.
"I shall be in time to stop him," observed the lieutenant, "and to talk
the matter over with him before I see Mr Farrance, who will, of course,
want all the information I can give him. I'll take Tom with me; he
knows his own country, and his woolly pate contains as much good sense
as many a white man's skull."
Tom could scarcely restrain the delight he felt on hearing of his
master's decision.
"But who take care ob de house, de pigs, and de garden, and de poultry?"
he exclaimed of a sudden, as if the idea had just struck him.
"The ladies and Jane will attend to them, and no one will think of
robbing the house during our absence," was the answer.
The lieutenant and his black attendant set off the following morning and
reached London in safety, arriving just in time to stop Mr Hanson from
going down to Triton Cottage.
He doubted whether the Admiralty would consider themselves justified in
sending out any special expedition, and they had already given
directions to the vessels on the coast to make all inquiries in their
power, but he thought that a private expedition such as his friend
suggested might possibly succeed, although he was not very sanguine on
the subject. Young Garth might possibly be alive, and until they had
received proof positive of his death hope ought not to be abandoned. He
was expecting his own promotion, but should he not obtain it, he should
be ready to go out in command of a properly organised expedition.
Trustworthy natives might be found, they were not all so black as
generally described. A private vessel, which would remain on the coast
while the expedition pushed inland, would entail considerable cost.
Where were the funds to come from?
When the old lieutenant related Mr Farrance's offer to defray all
expenses, his friend's countenance brightened.
"That alters the case; we will see him without delay, and if he has the
means we are right to take advantage of his liberality," said Mr
Hanson.
The two officers, therefore, accompanied by Tom Baraka, proceeded to the
address of Mr Farrance in one of the fashionable parts of London. The
old lieutenant was somewhat taken aback, as he expressed it, on finding
himself in a handsome mansion, such as he had never before in his life
entered; it appeared to him a perfect palace. He and his companion were
at once ushered into a large study, where they found Mr Farrance, who,
rising from his seat, welcomed them cordially. He expressed his sincere
regret at hearing of the disappearance of his young friend, from whose
commander, he said, he had received excellent accounts. "We must find
him if he is to be found. What object the Arabs can have for keeping
him in captivity, when a reward has been offered for his liberation, it
is difficult to say. However, I am very glad to have the means of
assisting to recover him."
Mr Farrance, after putting numerous questions to the two officers and
Tom, observed, "We will consider the matter settled. I have two objects
in view; besides the recovery of our young friend, I am sure the more
the natives are brought into intercourse with white men who show that
they come for the purpose of benefiting them, the sooner will the slave
trade be put a stop to and the Arabs driven out of the country. Not
until then will the negroes be able to enjoy the blessings of peace, and
the possibility of advancing in civilisation and embracing the truths of
Christianity. As you, Lieutenant Pack, know those seas and are willing
to take charge of a vessel, I shall be glad to obtain for you the
command of one suited for the purpose; and I conclude, as you would find
it inconvenient to travel--indeed you should not make the attempt--you
would remain on board while the rest of the party penetrate into the
interior. You, I dare say, Mr Hanson, can get some trustworthy men
among your late crew to accompany you; but we must rely chiefly on the
natives for furnishing a sufficient force."
Mr Hanson was delighted with the readiness shown by Mr Farrance to
forward their object, and he and his brother officer at once promised to
under take the arrangement of an expedition.
"No time then must be lost," replied Mr Farrance. "I give you and
Lieutenant Pack authority to obtain such a vessel as you consider fit
for the purpose, and to engage a crew for her, and companions for your
land journey. You will, I conclude, select a small craft which can keep
close in with the coast or run up rivers, as every mile you can go by
water will save you so much, or probably a still greater distance of
land journey."
Further arrangements having been made, the two officers and Tom Baraka
took their departure, promising to report progress.
Mr Hanson was not a man to let the grass grow under his feet, and the
old lieutenant was even more eager than his friend to get under weigh.
Within three days they paid another visit to Mr Farrance. They had
purchased a schooner of about 150 tons, which had once been a yacht--a
fast craft. Hands had been engaged, chiefly from the crew of the
"Ione"; three men from Cowes accustomed to fore and aft vessels, one of
whom was to act as mate. The fitting out of the schooner would be an
easy matter, but the preparations for the land journey required more
time and consideration. The only two people who had as yet undertaken
to go were Charley Meadows and Tom Baraka. Two stout Africans who had
lately arrived in England on board a ship from India, and who stated
that when boys they had been captured on the east coast, but had escaped
from Madagascar, to which island they had been carried, to an English
merchantman, appeared well suited for the undertaking. Mr Hanson was
only waiting until he could hear more about them.
Being satisfied with their testimonials he engaged them, and the next
day, as he was prosecuting his search in the neighbourhood of the docks,
he met with an Arab and three Lascars, of whom, on inquiry of the
masters of the ships who brought them home, he obtained a favourable
report. The Lascars were brave and useful fellows, while the Arab spoke
English fairly, and he had already penetrated some way into the interior
of Africa.
Both officers, assisted by Charley Meadows, who had been sent for, were
engaged from morning until night in superintending the preparations.
The old lieutenant when he quitted home had expected to return, but as
the "Hope" was ready for sea, he changed his purpose and wrote to his
sister explaining his reasons.
"I don't want to go through another parting, Sally," he said. "You know
I love you and Mary with all my heart, but that heart is not so tough as
it ought to be perhaps, and I could not bear saying `good-bye' again,
when I have said it already, although I didn't think it was for long.
If Ned is found, and I make no doubt about the matter, we shall have, I
pray God, a happy meeting, and I expect to find Mary grown at least an
inch taller, tell her. Don't either of you fret; whatever happens all
will be for the best--of that you may be sure. Should it please Him who
governs all things to call me away--and I do not shut my eyes to the
possibility--you will find my will in my desk. I have provided, as far
as I can, for you and Mary."
This letter was received the very morning the "Hope" was to sail. It
caused considerable disappointment to Aunt Sally and Mary, but they
could not help confessing that after all it was for the best.
"My good brother always acts wisely," said Aunt Sally. "It would have
cost us a good deal to say `good-bye,' when we knew he was going away to
that terrible country Africa!"
"Perhaps the `Hope' will come off here," observed Mary; "we shall then
see uncle and Tom Baraka, and perhaps Mr Hanson and Charley, and be
able to send messages by them to Ned. As they sailed this morning, they
may be off here in a couple of days."
Mary, as may be supposed, kept a constant look-out through the
lieutenant's telescope, but time went by and no schooner appeared. Some
days afterwards a letter, which had been landed by a pilot vessel,
brought information that the "Hope" was already in the chops of the
channel and all well. Aunt Sally and Mary at first felt a great blank
in their existence. The lieutenant's cheery voice was no longer heard,
and his chair stood vacant at their daily meals, while, instead of the
master, Miss Sally led the morning and evening prayer to the diminished
household. Tom Baraka's merry laugh was also missed, for in spite of
his one absorbing thought, he was merry when he gave way to his natural
disposition.
Aunt Sally and Mary did not, however, neglect their usual avocations.
They had plenty of work now that Jane had not time to assist them.
The garden had to be attended to, and they persevered in their visits to
the neighbouring poor. Mary very frequently went to see Mr Shank. The
old man received her with more apparent gratitude than he used before to
exhibit, and willingly listened when she read to him. He was evidently
deeply interested in the account she gave him of the expedition in
search of Ned, as also when she repeated the information she had
received from Charley Meadows about Africa and the slave trade.
"Terrible, terrible," he muttered, "that men should sell each other for
gold and produce all this suffering, and yet--" he was silent and seemed
lost in thought. Mary did not for some minutes again speak. She then
continued--
"It is the duty of all who have the means to try and put a stop to this
fearful state of things, and to assist in sending missionaries of the
Gospel and artisans to teach Christianity to the poor blacks, and to
instruct them in the useful arts of civilised life."
"The Government should do that," said Mr Shank. "We pay them taxes."
"The Government do their part by sending out ships-of-war to stop the
dhows and the Arabs who steal the slaves, making the trade so difficult
and dangerous a one that many will be compelled to give it up--so uncle
says--and what more than that can the Government do? Private people
must carry on the rest of the work, and a more noble and glorious one I
am sure cannot be found. If I had ever so much money, I should like to
spend it in that way."
"But you would get no interest, you would see no result," said the old
man.
Mary pointed to the Bible she had brought, and from which she had
previously been reading. "There is a verse there which tells us that we
are to lay up riches in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth
corrupt, and where thieves do not break through and steal," she answered
in an unaffected tone. "I should not expect interest, and I am very
sure that I should be satisfied with the result."
The old man again mused, this time far longer than before. "And so you
want to make Christians and civilised men of those black Africans of
whom you spoke?" he observed.
"Yes; it is the only way to make them become happy here and happy
hereafter," she said, energetically. "I am sure of it. If all the
money that is hoarded up or spent uselessly were devoted to such a work,
how soon might the condition of the unfortunate negroes be changed for
the better."
"Then do you blame those who hoard up money?" asked the old man.
"Yes, indeed I do. I think they are wicked, very wicked, and are not
making a good use of the talents committed to them. They are just as
wicked as those who throw it away or spend it badly."
"You are a severe censor, Miss Mary," said the old man. "But you are
right, very right." He placed his hand on his brow.
Mary took her leave, feeling more drawn towards Mr Shank than she had
ever before been, he seemed so softened and so sad, and very much weaker
than he had before appeared.
Mary told her aunt.
"He suffers from want of food," observed Miss Sally. "You shall go
again to-morrow and take him another pudding, and say that I will send
one for him, if he wishes it, every day."
Mary reached Mr Shank's door. She heard him feebly approaching to
withdraw the bolts; as soon as he had done so, he tottered back,
panting, to his seat.
"I am glad you have come, Mary, or I might have been found stiff and
cold on my bed. I am very ill, I fear, for I have never felt before as
I do now," he said, in so low and trembling a voice that Mary had to
draw closer to hear him.
She begged him to eat the food she had brought, hoping that it might
restore his strength. He followed her advice, lifting the spoon slowly
to his mouth.
After he had finished the food he appeared somewhat stronger.
"Thank you, Mary," he said. "I owe you a great deal more than I can now
tell you, for I have something else to say. I want you to bring me a
lawyer, an honest man, if such is to be found, and his clerk must come
to witness my signature. I'll try to keep alive until he arrives, for,
Mary, do you know I think that I am dying."
"O no, I hope not, Mr Shank. You are only weak from want of food,"
exclaimed Mary, who, however, was much alarmed. "I will go on to where
Mr Thorpe lives, I know the way perfectly, and have heard uncle say
that he is a good and honest man, and is trusted by all the people
round."
"Go then, Mary, go!" said the old man. "Don't allow any one to stop
you; and if Mr Thorpe is out, write a message requesting him to come on
here immediately."
Mary, promising Mr Shank that she would obey his wishes, hastened away.
She observed that he did not close the door behind her as usual. She
found Mr Thorpe at home and gave her message.
"What! old Shank the miser? I suspect that he has something worth
leaving behind," observed the lawyer. "I'll be with him immediately,
depend on that. But how are you going to get back, young lady?"
"Oh, I can walk perfectly well," said Mary.
"No; let me drive you as far as old Shank's, and if you like to remain I
will take you on to Triton Cottage. Miss Sally will not know what has
become of you."
Mary was glad to accept this offer, and the lawyer's gig being brought
round, she took her seat between him and his clerk.
"I will wait outside," she said when they reached Mr Shank's door. "I
can look after your horse and see it doesn't run away, for Mr Shank may
have something particular to tell you which he might not wish me to
hear."
The lawyer, appreciating Mary's delicacy, agreed, though he did not give
her the charge of his horse, as the animal was well accustomed to stand
with its head fastened to a paling while he visited his clients. Mary
waited and waited, sometimes walking about, at others standing beside
the gig, or sitting on the hillside, on the very spot which had often
been occupied by Ned. Her thoughts naturally flew away to him. Where
could he be all this time? Would Mr Hanson and Charley discover him,
or would they return without tidings of his fate?
The lawyer at last appeared, and, directing his clerk to return home
with some papers he held in his hand, he begged Mary to get into the
gig.
"I must run in to see old Mr Shank first," she said, "and learn if
there is anything aunt or I can do for him."
"You will find him more easy in his mind than he was when I arrived; but
in regard to assistance, he doesn't require it as much as you suppose.
He has consented to let me send a doctor, and a respectable woman to
attend on him. He is not in a fit state to be left by himself."
Mary was surprised at these remarks. Not wishing to delay the lawyer
she hurried in. Mr Shank, who was still seated in his arm-chair, put
out his shrivelled hand and clasped hers.
"Thank you, Mary, thank you!" he said. "You deserve to be happy, and
Heaven will bless your kindness to a forlorn old man. I may live to see
you again, but my days are numbered, whatever the lawyer may say to the
contrary."
Mary explained that Mr Thorpe was waiting for her, and saying that she
was glad to hear he was to have some one to attend on him, bade him
good-bye.
During the drive to Triton Cottage the lawyer did not further allude to
Mr Shank, and Mary very naturally forbore to question him.
Aunt Sally, who had become somewhat anxious at her long absence, was
greatly surprised at seeing Mr Thorpe, and not being influenced by the
same motive as Mary, inquired what the old man could possibly have
desired to see him about.
"To make his will, Miss Sally," answered the lawyer; "it has been
signed, sealed, and delivered in the presence of myself and John Brown,
my clerk, and its contents are to remain locked in our respective
breasts and my strong box until the due time arrives for its
administration. That he has made a will argues that he has, as you may
suppose, some property to leave, and that the people in our
neighbourhood were not so far wrong in calling him a miser; but he has
hoarded to some purpose, and I wish that all misers would leave their
gold in as satisfactory a manner as he has done."
In vain Miss Sally endeavoured to elicit further information; the lawyer
laughed and rubbed his hands, but not a word more could she get out of
him than he chose to say. Then turning the subject, he steadily
declined again entering on it, though he made himself agreeable by
conversing in a cheerful tone on various others.
Mary's anxiety prompted her to visit Mr Shank the next day, and her
aunt not objecting she set off by herself. A respectable-looking woman
opened the door, and courtesied to her as she did so.
"How is Mr Shank?" asked Mary.
"He is not worse than he was yesterday; he has been asking for you ever
so many times, miss, and has made me go to the door to see if you were
coming. He'll be main glad to see you. I have been working hard to
make the house look a little tidy, but it is in a sad mess; it is a
wonder the whole of it didn't come down and crush the old man before
this--"
The woman would have continued to run on in the same strain had not Mary
begged to be allowed to enter. She found Mr Shank seated in his
arm-chair, looking, as she thought, very pale and weak. He thanked her,
much in his usual way, for again coming to see him, and for bringing him
another of Miss Sally's puddings, but Mary remarked that he no longer
spoke of his poverty.
"I wanted very much to see you, my dear," he said, in a gentle tone,
which contrasted greatly with that in which he used formally to speak;
"but I don't want listeners, Mrs Mason, I will request you to retire
and busy yourself at the further end of the house, or out of doors."
The old woman looked somewhat astonished, but obeyed without replying.
Mary could not fail to be surprised at the tone of authority in which he
spoke, as if he had been accustomed all his life to give directions to
an attendant.
"Mary," he said, as he sat with his hands clasped, leaning back in his
chair, and glancing half aside at her fair countenance, as if a feeling
of shame oppressed him, "you have been my good angel. I owe you much,
more than I can ever repay. Had it not been for you, I should have gone
down to my grave a miserable, wretched being, with no one to care for
me; but you awoke me to a sense of better things. I have not always
been as I am now, but care and disappointment came upon me, and those I
loved were lost through my fault, by my hard treatment. I see it now,
but I thought then they were alone to blame. I once had wealth, but it
was dissipated almost, not all, and I feared lest the remainder would be
lost; then I became what you have known me, a wretched, grovelling
miser. I had a daughter, she was young and fair, and as bright as you
are, but she desired to live as she had been accustomed to, not aware of
my losses, and I stinted her of everything except the bare necessaries
of life. She had many admirers: one of them was wealthy, but Fanny
regarded him with dislike; the other, a fine youth, was, I thought,
penniless. She returned his affection, and I ordered him never again to
enter my doors. My child bore my treatment meekly, but one day she came
into my presence, and in a calm but firm voice said she would no longer
be a burden to me; that she was ready to toil for my support were it
requisite, but that she was well aware that I was possessed of ample
means to obtain the comforts as well as the necessaries of life.
Enraged, I ordered her, with a curse, to quit my house, declaring that I
would never see her again. She obeyed me too faithfully, and became the
young man's wife, and she and her husband left England. I heard shortly
afterwards that the ship in which they sailed had been wrecked. That
such was the case I had every reason to believe as from that day I lost
all trace of them. Hardhearted as I was, I believed that my child had
met her just doom for the disobedience into which I myself had driven
her, and having no one to care for, I sank into the wretched object you
found me. You will think of me, Mary, with pity rather than scorn when
I am gone?"
"Do not speak so, Mr Shank; I have long, long pitied you," said Mary,
soothingly. "You are not what you were; you mourn your past life, and
you know the way by which you can be reconciled to a merciful God."
The old man gazed at her fair countenance. "No other human being could
have moved me but you," he said; "you reminded me from the first of my
lost child, and I listened to you as I would have listened to no one
else. Bless you! bless you!"
Mary had already spent a longer time than she had intended listening to
the old man's history. She rose to go away. He kept her small hand in
his shrivelled palms.
"I should wish my last gaze on earth to be on your face, Mary; I should
die more easily, and yet I do not fear death as I once did when I strove
to put away all thoughts of it. I know it must come before long; it may
be days, or weeks, and you will then know how my poor wretched heart has
loved you."