The next day Colonel Ripon started with the 66th and, at the end of
the first day's march, met a messenger who, among other despatches,
carried a telegram granting him, at once, the leave he asked
for--and which, indeed, had been due, had he asked for it many
years before. His intention was to accompany the 66th to Kurrachee,
and to sail with it to England. This intention was carried out, and
the remnant of the regiment safely reached England.
One of Colonel Ripon's first steps was to accompany Will--or, as he
ought now to be called, Tom--to the Horse Guards; and to procure an
insertion in the Gazette stating that Captain William Gale, of the
66th, would henceforth be known by his true and proper name of
Thomas Ripon.
The colonel purchased a fine estate in Somersetshire and, retiring
from the service, settled down there. There was a considerable
discussion, between father and son, as to whether the latter should
remain in the army. Colonel Ripon was unwilling that his son should
relinquish a profession of which he was fond; and in which, from
his early promotion, he had every chance of obtaining high rank and
honor--but Tom, who saw how great a pleasure his society was to his
father, and how lonely the latter's life would be without him, was
resolute in his determination to quit the service. He had already,
as he said, passed through a far greater share of adventure than
usually falls to one man's lot; and the colonel's property was so
large that there was not the slightest occasion for him to continue
in the service.
Not long after his return to England, Will paid a visit to Ely
workhouse. He was accompanied by the colonel, and the two men
walked together up to the gate of the workhouse. He rang at the
bell, and a woman opened the door. She curtsied, at seeing two
tall, soldier-like gentlemen before her.
"Your name is Mrs. Dickson, I think?" the younger said.
The woman gave a violent start, and gazed earnestly at him.
"It is Will Gale!" she exclaimed, drawing back a step. "They said
you were dead, years ago."
"No, I am very much alive, Mrs. Dickson; and glad, most glad, to
see an old friend again."
"Good Lord!" the woman exclaimed, "it is the boy himself, sure
enough;" and, for a moment, she seemed as if she would have rushed
into his arms; and then she drew back, abashed at his appearance.
Tom, however, held out his arms; and the woman fell sobbing into
them.
"Why, you did not think so badly of me," he said, "as to think that
I should forget the woman who was a mother to me.
"Father," he said,
"--For I have found my real father, Mrs. Dickson, as you always
said I should, some day--
"It is to this good woman that I owe what I am. But for her, I
might now be a laboring man; but it is to her kindness, to her good
advice, to her lessons, that I owe everything. It was she who
taught me that I should so behave that, if my parents ever found
me, they should have no cause to be ashamed of me. She was, indeed,
as a mother to me; and this lodge was my home, rather than the work
house, inside.
"Ah! And here is Sam!"
Sam Dickson, coming out at this moment, stood in open-mouthed
astonishment, at seeing his wife standing with her hand in that of
a gentleman.
"Oh, Sam! Who do you think this is?"
Sam made no reply, but stared at Tom, with all his eyes.
"If it warn't that he be drowned and dead, long ago," he said, at
last, "I should say it was Will Gale, growed up and got to be a
gentleman. I shouldn't ha' knowed him, at first; but when he
smiles, I don't think as how I can be far wrong."
"You are right, Sam. I am the boy you and your wife were so kind
to, from the time you picked him up, just where we are standing;
and whom you last handed over to go aboard a smack, at Yarmouth.
She was--as you have heard--run down in the North Sea; but I was
saved, in the ship which ran over her, and was taken on it to the
East. There--after being wrecked again, and going through lots of
adventures--I went to India; enlisted there, and fought through the
Afghan war.
"I am a captain, now; and my name is no longer Will Gale, but Tom
Ripon, for I have found my real father--this gentleman, Colonel
Ripon."
"Who feels," Colonel Ripon went on, "how much he and his son owe to
your kindness, and that of your good wife, here; and who, as you
will find, is not ungrateful. I have just bought an estate, down in
Somersetshire; and I mean to install you and your wife in a pretty
lodge, at the gates, with enough to live upon, comfortably, to the
end of your lives."
Mrs. Dickson cried with joy, as Colonel Ripon entered into details
of what he intended to do for them; and Sam--although, as was his
way, much less demonstrative in his gladness--was yet greatly
delighted. There was a good garden to the lodge. They were to have
the keep of a cow, and thirty shillings per week, as long as they
lived. Before the colonel left, Sam Dickson's resignation of his
post was handed in to the master.
The colonel told them that at the end of the month, when Sam's
notice would expire, they were to sell off what furniture they had,
as it would cost more, to convey it so long a distance, than it was
worth; and he would take care that they should find everything
comfortable and ready for occupation, at the lodge, upon their
arrival.
Tom called upon the master and matron and schoolmaster, and thanked
all for the kindness that they had shown him, when a boy; and
Colonel Ripon left a check with the master, to be expended in
tobacco, tea, and sugar for the aged inmates of the house.
No words can express the delight of Sam Dickson and his wife when,
a month later, they arrived at their new home. Tom had spared no
trouble in seeing that it was comfortably and cosily furnished. The
garden had been thoroughly dug up, and planted; and Mrs. Dickson
could scarcely believe that she was the mistress of so pleasant a
home. Tom was forgetful of none of his old friends; and he wrote to
an address which Hans--his companion among the Malays--had given
him when they separated, and forwarded to him a handsome watch, as
a souvenir of his comrade.
There is no more to be told. Captain Ripon--still a very young
man--is living with his father, the colonel. He is one of the most
popular men in his county; and there is some talk of his standing
for one of its boroughs, at the next election; and it is rumored
that he is likely, ere long, to bring home a lady who will be the
future mistress of Burnham Park.
He is quite content that he has left the army--though he fidgeted a
little, while the Egyptian war was going on, and could not help
feeling a little regret that he did not take part in the storming
of Tel-el-Kebir.