"After leaving Downash," said Eastwood, "I went, as was reported,
to sea, and what passed there I would willingly hide from all my
friends; suffice it to say, though I always wished to be considered as
a gentleman, my manners were so different from what properly belongs
to that character, that none would admit me into their company; and I
associated with the lowest of the crew; spending my time as they did,
and oftener drunk than sober. But let me pass over what it pains me
to remember; I was more than once or twice nearly drowned by my own
temerity; and two of the ships in which I was, were wrecked, from which
I narrowly escaped with my life. For nearly eighteen years I lived this
miserable life; discharged from ship to ship on account of my behaviour,
till at the end of that time I contracted a very severe illness, which
brought me a little to my senses. I was confined to my bed with a
rheumatic fever nearly twelve months; three of which I was on board a
vessel which put me on shore at Hull, in Yorkshire; and though it was
in this country that I was born, I did not know I had any relations
left there, for I am ashamed to say, I had never inquired for them. On
my first setting out in life, being taken from home very early, and
the favourite of my schoolmaster, who overrated my abilities when he
recommended me to a medical friend of his, to teach me the profession; I
thought myself much above the rest of my family; and on coming to London
with my new master, I soon forgot them all. But I am departing from my
story, and relating the follies of my youth instead of those of riper
age. Alas! what a retrospection is mine! _You_, Mr. Campbell, can look
back on a well-spent life; _I_ only on infamy!" His silence spoke his
distress; and Mr. Campbell, wishing to relieve it, said:--
"I think I have heard you mention a brother."
"And it is to that brother," replied Eastwood, "next to Divine
Providence, that I am what I now am. When I first knew you I was ashamed
of him, and my pride made me tell you an untruth (Oh, that pride
should descend to such meanness!) in saying that he was in business
for himself; but at that time he was only a shopman, and not being of
so dissipated and idle a turn as I was, we never met during the time I
mentioned. When I was put on shore at Hull, quite a stranger, though
within a few miles of my native place, very ill, and without the use of
my limbs, or any money in my pocket, except a very small overplus of my
pay, which was left after discharging the surgeon's bill, who attended
me on board; my conduct had not been such as to gain me any friends
in the ship, and but for the humanity of one of the common sailors,
who got me a lodging at a small public-house, I must have perished in
the streets. But what I suffered was little, _very_ little to what I
deserved. And now I had time to look back and reflect on the past,
though I would have drowned reflection as I had often done before, had
not the people of the house refused to bring me any liquor. I wish to
shorten my tale as much as I can, and will only say, that my brother,
who had opened a shop in Hull, and was very prosperous in business,
heard my name; and his compassion induced him to come and see if it was
his brother, who was formerly ashamed to call him by that name; but,
poor and wretched as I was, he was not ashamed of _me_. He removed me
to his own house, where both himself and his wife treated me with the
kindest attention.
"Oh, how is it," said he, interrupting his narrative, "how is it, that
all my life through I have met with the kindest treatment from those of
whom I least deserved it? and now again I experience it; what can I say
for myself?
"The best medical aid was procured me, and I had sufficient time, as
I said before, to reflect on my past life; and bitter reflections
these were. I seemed now for the first time to recollect that I had a
daughter; and when sufficiently recovered to undertake the journey,
I told my brother I was determined to find her, if she was alive. I
preferred coming in person to writing, because I could say nothing good
of myself; but my brother told me, that, contrary to every appearance in
our younger days, my father had prospered in the small farm he rented
when I left him, and had left what little property he died possessed
of, between us. 'Your share, and the interest due upon it since his
death,' said he, 'shall be yours on your return to Hull; and should
you be so fortunate as to find your child alive, let me advise you to
settle it on her; and if my hopes of your reformation are realized, it
may still be in your power to add to it by an attention to business, in
whatever line you choose to enter.'
"I thanked him for his generosity and advice, determined not to accept
the former, unless I found my child in a situation that needed it.
"I only arrived in this village about six hours back, and, ashamed and
afraid to make any inquiry, my first visit was to the grave of my wife,
thinking that if my child was also dead, I should see her name upon the
same stone; and then whether I should have proceeded to your house or
not, I cannot tell, but accident threw my child in my way at the very
spot I went to look for her, though I had not the least idea of who she
was, but thought my appearance had alarmed her, as she was passing by."
"Your words, my dear father," said Anna, "assured me who you were,
before you saw me; and it was seeing you indistinctly on that spot,
which has always been dear to me, and will _now_ be much more so, which
led me nearer to it, that I might discover what it was."
And now the father and daughter, and indeed the whole party, rejoiced
at their meeting, and the evening was far advanced before Mr. Campbell
recollected that his wife would be anxious to hear who the stranger was,
and hastened home to inform her. A bed was provided for Eastwood in Mrs.
Meridith's house, and a servant sent to the public-house for the things
he had brought with him. Bella and Syphax were informed who he was, and
it was soon spread through the village, that "Miss Anna's father was
come, and that he was quite a gentleman, and seemed very sorry for his
past behaviour."
Most of the old folks who remembered his marriage, repaired the next
morning to Mr. Campbell's, to know if it was really so; and nothing but
his declaring that he had forgiven him, and hoped that he was a reformed
man, could have prevented their bestowing some invectives on him, for
his conduct to such a nice young woman as poor Anna Campbell was, and
his neglect of his daughter: but when in about an hour afterwards, they
saw him walk through the village, with Anna on his arm, and observed his
dejected and melancholy looks, they altered their opinion, and thought
farmer Campbell was right.
"It is a long lane that has no turning," said one old man; "he looks
very sorrowful, and may be a good father yet; we, have all something to
be forgiven."
"But will he take Miss Meridith away?" was the eager inquiry of all the
younger ones: "What shall we do then?" And great was the anxiety and
consternation in the village, till they knew what would be the result of
this strange occurrence.
Anna after accompanying her father to the farm, left him there, and
returned to Mrs. Meridith; while all her movements were as minutely
watched by the young villagers, as those of the Emperor Alexander and
our other illustrious Visitors, when they lately honoured England with
their presence.