The child had sat quietly down in a chair and was looking into the fire
while the two men were speaking. She had done what she had been told to
do, and was waiting quietly for what was to come next. Her quick ear,
however, noticed that John Petersham spoke of her old grandfather as
though he needed to be excused for something, and she was moved to
instant anger.
"Why do you speak like that of my grampa?" she said, rising to her feet
and standing indignantly before him. "He is the best man in the world,
and the kindest and the nicest, and if you don't like him I can go away
to him again. I don't want to stay here, not one minute.
"You may be my grandpapa," she went on, turning to the squire, "and you
may be lonely, but he is lonely too, and you have got a great house and
all sorts of nice things, and you can do better without me than he can,
for he has got nothing to love but me, poor grampa!" and her eyes filled
with sudden tears as she thought of him tramping on his lonely walks
over the hills.
"We do not mean to speak unkindly of your grandfather, my dear," the
squire said gently. "I have never seen him, you know, and John has
never seen him but once. I have thought all these years bitterly of
him, but perhaps I have been mistaken. He has ever been kind and good
to you, and, above all, he has given you back to me, and that will make
me think differently of him in future. We all make mistakes, you know,
and I have made terrible mistakes, and have been terribly punished for
them. I daresay I have made a mistake here; but whether or no, you
shall never hear a word from me against the man who has been so kind to
you."
"And you will let me see him sometimes, grandpapa?" the child said,
taking his hand pleadingly. "He said if you said no I must do as you
told me, because somehow you are nearer to me than he is, though I don't
know how that can be; but you won't say that, will you? for, oh! I know
he is so lonely without me, and I should never be happy thinking of him
all alone, not if you were to be ever so kind to me and to give me all
sorts of grand things."
"No, my dear, I certainly shall not say so. You shall see him as often
as you like."
"Oh, thank you, grandpapa!" she exclaimed joyfully, and she held up her
face to kiss him.
The squire lifted her in his arms and held her closely to him.
"John," he said, "you must tell Mrs. Morcombe to get a room ready for my
grand-daughter at once, and you had better bring the tea in here, and
then we will think of other things. I feel quite bewildered at
present."
*THE BLACK HOLE OF CALCUTTA.*
*FROM "WITH CLIVE IN INDIA."*
[In 1756, when the British footing in India was by no means assured,
Calcutta was attacked by a native prince or nabob, Suraja Dowlah, with a
force of 50,000 men. The whole British force in Calcutta numbered 140
men, including sepoys, and the governor was a weak and incompetent man.
The defences of the town were quite useless owing to the fact that
buildings of all sorts had been allowed to be put up outside the fort.
It was a simple matter for the enemy to take possession of these and so
command both fort and town.
Mr. Drake, the governor, and Captain Michin, commander of the forces,
were cowardly enough to desert their charge and seek safety on board a
man-of-war in the harbour. Upon this a civilian, Mr. Holwell, was
elected by the Europeans to take command of the town, and Charlie
Marryat, a young officer, is put in command of the troops.]
With daybreak the attack recommenced, but the garrison all day bravely
repulsed every attempt of the enemy to gain a footing. The fire from the
houses was, however, so severe, that by nightfall nearly half the
garrison were killed or wounded. All day the signals to the fleet were
kept flying, but not a ship moved.
All night an anxious watch was kept, in hopes that at the last moment
some returning feeling of shame might induce the recreants to send up
the boats of the ships. But the night passed without a movement on the
river, and in the morning the fleet were seen still lying at anchor.
The enemy recommenced the attack even more vigorously than before. The
men fell fast, and, to Charlie's great grief, his friend Mr. Haines was
shot by a bullet as he was standing next to him. Charlie anxiously
knelt beside him.
"It is all over with me," he murmured. "Poor little Ada. Do all you can
for her, Marryat. God knows what fate is in store for her."
"I will protect her with my life, sir," Charlie said earnestly.
Mr. Haines pressed his hand feebly in token of gratitude, and two or
three minutes later breathed his last.
By mid-day the loss had been so heavy that the men would no longer stand
to their guns. After a consultation with his officers Mr. Holwell
agreed that further resistance was hopeless. The flag of truce was
therefore hoisted, and one of the officers at once started for the
nabob's camp, with instructions to make the best terms he could for the
garrison. When the gates were opened the enemy, seizing the
opportunity, rushed in in great numbers, and as resistance was
impossible the garrison laid down their arms. Charlie at once hurried to
the spot where Ada was anxiously awaiting news with the only other
European lady who had not escaped. Both were exhausted with weeping.
"Where is papa, Captain Marryat?" Ada asked.
Charlie knew that the poor girl would need all her strength for what she
might have to undergo, and at once resolved that, for the present at
least, it would be better that she should be in ignorance of the fate of
her father. He therefore said that for the present Mr. Haines was
unable to come, and had asked him to look after her.
It was not until five o'clock that the nabob entered the fort. He was
furious at hearing that only five lacs of rupees had been found in the
treasury, as he had expected to become possessed of a much larger sum.
The whole of the Eurasians, or half-castes, and natives found in the
fort were allowed to return to their homes. Mr. Holwell was then sent
for, and after the nabob had expressed his resentment at the small
amount found in the treasury, he was dismissed, the nabob assuring him
of his protection.
Mr. Holwell returned to his English companions, who, one hundred and
forty-six in number, including the two ladies, were drawn up under the
verandah in front of the prison. The nabob then returned to his camp.