"HUZZA! WE'RE HOMEWARD BOUND."
And now it seemed as if our difficulties were at an end, for the passage
to Kingston, Jamaica, was a pleasant one, and we took our berths from
there in the mail, which landed us in safety at Southampton, without a
soul suspecting the nature of the treasure that we had on board, one
which we had gone through so much peril to obtain.
It was a fine evening in July, that, after leaving my uncle and the
others at a comfortable London hotel, Tom and I, after a quick run down
by rail, found ourselves once more in the streets of the little town
which we had left upon our setting off to foreign lands in quest of our
fortunes.
How familiar everything seemed and yet how shrunken! Houses that I used
to consider large appeared to have grown small, and people that I had
been in the habit of considering great and important, somehow looked as
if they were of no consequence at all.
"Lor', look ye there, Mas'r Harry, they're practising in the cricket
field. What a while it seems since I have handled a bat! Come and give
us a few balls, the chaps would be glad enough to see us."
"No, no, Tom," I said hastily, "I want to see the old people."
"Oh, yes, of course, I forgot all about that, Mas'r Harry. I haven't
got no one to see."
"Why, what about Sally?" I said.
"Pooh, it's all nonsense! What stuff! How you do talk, Mas'r Harry!"
he cried indignantly. "Just as if Sally was anything to me!"
"Come, Tom," I said, "you know you were always very great friends."
"Friends, Mas'r Harry! Why, she were allus giving me spanks in the
face. I do wish you wouldn't be so foolish, Mas'r Harry."
"All right, Tom," I said, for he was speaking in quite an ill-used tone.
"There, what's that?" I cried, as with beating heart, longing to look
into the old home and yet almost afraid, I stopped short at the corner
of the lane, and caught Tom by the arm.
"What's that?" cried Tom grinning, as he took a long sniff. "Taller.
Say, Mas'r Harry, after missing it all this long time, it don't smell so
very bad after all."
"Well, it is not nice, Tom," I said smiling, "but how familiar it all
does seem! What days and nights it does recall! Why, Tom, we hardly
seem to have been away."
"Oh, but don't we though?" said Tom, pulling down the front of a new
waistcoat and pushing his hat a little on one side. "We went away
nobodies like, at least I did, Mas'r Harry, and I've come back an
independent gentleman. I wonder whether Sally's altered."
I did not make any reply, but walked steadily on till I reached the
familiar gates leading into our yard, and through which I had seen the
laden van pass so many hundreds of times. There beyond it was the
soap-house with its barred window, the tall chimney, and, on looking
over, there were the usual litter of old and new boxes, while an
unpleasantly scented steam was floating out upon the evening air.
How strange and yet how familiar it all seemed! How old and shabby and
forlorn everything looked, and yet how dear! I wanted to creep in and
catch my mother in my arms, but something seemed to hold me back, so
that I dare not stir.
I walked straight by, with Tom following me slowly, looking across at
the opposite side of the road, and whistling softly, and as we walked on
I could see into the garden, and my heart gave a throb, for, instead of
being neat and well stocked as of old, everything appeared to have been
neglected--creepers had run wild, the apple and pear trees were covered
with long shoots, and tall thistles and nettles stood in clumps.
My heart seemed to stand still, and I hesitated no longer. My father
must be ill, I thought, or the garden in which he took so much pride
would never have been allowed to run wild like that.
"Tom," I said, "there's something wrong."
"Lor', no, Mas'r Harry, not there. Nothing's wrong, only that Sally's
left, and that's all right, ain't it?"
I did not answer, but, going to the yard gate, pushed it open, and the
hinges gave a dismal creak.
"Bit o' soap would not hurt them," said Tom sententiously, and he
followed me through the yard.
I peeped in at the old, familiar boiling-house, but though work had
lately been in progress there was no one there; so I went on to the back
door and was about to enter, but Tom laid his hand on my arm.
"Would you mind my going in first, Mas'r Harry?" he said softly. "I
know it ain't right, but I should like to go in just once--first."
I drew back and Tom stepped forward to go in, but as he raised his hand
to the latch he dropped it again and turned back to me.
"'Twouldn't be right, sir, for me to go afore you; and don't you think,
Mas'r Harry, now that you're a great, rich gentleman just come over from
foreign abroad, that it would be more genteel-like to go round to the
front and give a big knock afore you went in?"
"Well, let's go round to the front, Tom. Perhaps it isn't right to come
round here. We might startle them."
"Wouldn't startle Sally, even if she were here, Mas'r Harry. Nothing
never did startle she, though she ain't here now."
The fact was that I felt as nervous and tremulous about going in as poor
Tom, and accordingly we went round to the front, and after a moment's
hesitation I gave a rap at the door.
No answer.
I rapped again, and then, finding the door unfastened, I pushed against
it with trembling hand to find it yield, and, walking straight in, I
turned to the right and entered the little parlour.
As I went in some one who had been sitting back asleep in the easy-chair
started up and took a great red handkerchief from his face.
As he did this I was advancing with open hands, but only to stop short,
for it was not my father.
"Hillo!" said the stranger, a dirty-looking man with an inflamed nose.
"Hallo!" I said; "who are you?"
"Who am I?" said the stranger, staring at me as if I were asking a most
absurd question. "Why, persession--that's about what I am. Are you
come to pay me out?"
"Pay you out!--possession!" I faltered. "Why, what does it mean?"
"Sold by hockshin without reserve by one of the morkygees," said the
man, "soon as the inwintory's took."
"Where are my father and mother?" I said, with my heart sinking at the
idea of the distress they must have been in.
"Now, then!" said a sharp voice, and a young woman came to the inner
door; "who do you want?"
"Sally!" whispered Tom excitedly.
"Why, Sally!" I exclaimed, "don't you know me again?"
"It isn't Master Harry, is it?" she said wonderingly.
"Yes, Sally," I said. "Why, how you have altered and improved!"
"Get along, Master Harry; it's you that's improved. Who's that big,
stoopid-looking young man with you?"
"Oh, I say!" groaned Tom.
"Oh, I see!" she said carelessly, "it's the boy!"
"Ain't she hard on a fellow, Mas'r Harry?" whispered Tom; but I did not
reply, for I was questioning Sally.
"What! haven't you heard?" she said.
"No, I've heard nothing," I exclaimed. "What do you mean?"
"'Bout master's having failed, and a set o' wretches,"--here she glanced
at the dirty-looking man--"coming and robbing him of his business, and
his house, and his furniture, and everything a'most he's got."
"No, no, Sally, I have heard nothing. But are they well?"
"Oh, yes, as well as folks can be as is being robbed by folks who come
sitting in all the chairs with hankychers over their heads, and going to
sleep all over the place."
"But where are they?" I cried; "upstairs?"
"Upstairs? No," cried Sally. "They're down at the little cottage in
Back Lane, where old Mrs Wigley used to live."
"I'll run down at once," I cried. "Come along, Tom!" I did not look
back, for I was intent upon my task; and if I had I should have had no
satisfaction, for Tom had stayed behind, as he afterwards said, to look
after old master's property; but I never believed that tale for several
reasons, one being that Tom looked shamefaced and awkward as he said it,
and circumstances afterwards tended to show that he had some other
reason.
The old cottage named was one that I well remembered, and my spirit
seemed to sink lower and lower as I neared the place; for it was
terrible to think of those whom I had left, if not in affluence, at
least in a comfortable position in life, brought down to so sad and
impecunious a state, suffering real poverty, and with the home of so
many years now in the broker's hands.
Then I felt a wave of high spirits come over me, as it were, to hurl me
down and then lift me and carry me on and on, till I literally set off
and ran down turning after turning, till I came to the little
whitewashed cottage where my father and mother had their abode.
I half-paused for a moment, and then tapping lightly, raised the latch
and entered.
My father was seated at a common uncovered deal table, poring over an
old account-book, as if in hopes of finding a way out of his
difficulties. My mother, looking very care-worn and grey, was seated by
a back window mending some old garments, and now and then stopping to
wipe her eyes. At least that is what I presumed, for she was in the act
of wiping them as I dashed in.
"Mother! father!" I exclaimed, and the next moment the poor old lady
was sobbing in my arms, kissing me again and again, and amidst her
sobbing telling my father that she knew how it would be--that it had
been foolish of him to despair, for she was certain that her boy would
come back and help them as soon as he knew that they were in trouble.
"When did you get the letter, my darling?" she said as she clung closer
to me.
"Letter!" I said; "I've had no letter."
My mother looked up at me wonderingly.
"Had no letter, Harry?"
"No, my dear mother; I have not had a line since I have been gone."
My mother loosened her hold of me and turned to my father as he stood
looking on.
"You did not write to him," she said.
"Oh, yes, I daresay he did, mother," I cried, "but of late I have been
travelling about a great deal."
"Then the letter would have come back, Harry," said my mother. "He did
not write."
"No," said my father quietly; "I did not write. What was the use of
troubling the poor fellow about our miserable affairs when he was far
away?"
"Then you did not come, Harry, because we were in trouble?"
"No, mother," I replied. "I came home because my task was done."
"Your task was done?" said my mother. "I don't understand you. I
thought you went to work at your uncle's."
"I was with my uncle, mother," I replied, enjoying the knowledge of the
surprise I had in store, and feeling that now, indeed, the treasure I
had found was worth having, for what changes it would work! "but he was
in trouble too."
"In trouble!" said my father and mother in a breath.
"Yes, he was in the same predicament as you are, and his coffee
plantation was going to be sold up."
"What an unhappy family ours is!" said my mother. "Harry--Harry! you
might as well have stayed at home."
"If I had stayed at home, mother, would it have spared you this
trouble?"
"I--I don't know, my boy. Would it, my dear?" she said, turning to my
father.
"No, wife--no," he said; "Harry was quite right to go. He foresaw what
was coming, and how useless it was for me to try. The hardest part of
it, my lad, is that I can't go out of business an honest man and pay
every one his due."
"Don't fret, dear," said my mother; "you've done your best and given up
everything. But tell me, Harry," she cried, "what did my poor brother
do? Had he no friend to help him?"
"Yes, mother."
"And did he?"
"Yes, mother."
"What! paid his debts?"
"Yes, dear mother."
"God bless him!" said my mother fervently. "I wish I could take him by
the hand. And how is your uncle now?"
"He was quite well when I left him to-day, mother."
"Left him!--to-day?" said my mother wonderingly.
"Yes, he is in town. I brought him with me, and he will come down and
see you with some one, mother, I want you very much to love."
"You foolish boy!" said my mother. "Ah, Harry--Harry! you are too young
to think of that."
"I'm sorry he's coming to see us," said my father sadly. "We are not in
condition to see company, wife."
"No," said my mother, sighing as she glanced round. "But don't be
down-hearted, dear," she cried more cheerfully; "when things are at
their worst they always mend, and I think they have got to their worst
now, and have begun to mend, for Harry has come back."
"Yes, mother," I cried, unable to keep back my good news, knowing as I
did how welcome it must be to them at such a time. "Yes, mother, I have
come back, and brought with me the friend who helped my poor uncle in
such a strait, and now he shall help you."
"Ah, but my dear boy, we have no claims upon your uncle's friend."
"The greatest of claims, mother," I cried excitedly, "for he is your own
flesh and blood."
"Harry!" cried my father, "what do you mean? Did you help your uncle?"
"Yes, father," I said modestly.
"And paid his debts?"
"Yes, father, and now I'm going to pay yours, or rather you are going to
pay them yourself, and be what you called--an honest man."
His eyes lit up, and he looked as if he were about to catch me by the
hands, but he stopped short and shook his head.
"No, no, no, my boy, you do not understand these things. I owe nearly
five hundred pounds."
"My dear father," I cried, "I'm ready to pay it if you owe nearly five
thousand. I went out to make my fortune and I have made it, and I never
knew its value thoroughly till I came home to-day. There, come away
home and I'll pay out that fellow, and--oh, come, mother--mother,
mother!" I cried as I took hold of her hands to raise her up, for she
had sunk upon her knees and was embracing my legs. "You must not give
way like this, or you will make me behave like a great girl."
"It is because I am so happy," she sobbed, and as I raised her so that
she could weep on my shoulder, my father caught me by the hand.
"God bless you, my boy! God bless you!" he cried. "I won't question
you now, for like your mother I feel as if this is more than I can
bear."
We lost no time as soon as they had grown calmer. For though I had not
the money with me sufficient to pay all my father's debts, I had plenty
to pay what was needed to get rid of the unpleasant tenant of my old
home, and that night I slept happily once more beneath its roof.
I had hard work to satisfy the old people about my right to the large
sum of money I had brought back, but I found no difficulty with their
creditors, who took the cash without asking any questions, and were very
loud in their praises, saying that I was the best of sons, which was all
nonsense, for I should have been the worst of sons if I had not done my
duty as I did.
The next few months were chiefly spent in getting things into order, and
in the midst of my busiest time Tom came to me one day, bringing with
him Sally.
"Hallo!" I said, "what does this mean?"
"Oh, nothing at all, Mas'r Harry; only now I'm settled as a gentleman of
property I'm going to be married."
"Don't you believe him, Master Harry," said Sally; "it's all his
nonsense," and she was scarlet as she spoke.
"Don't you believe her, Mas'r Harry," said Tom grinning; "she promised
me she would, and she can't draw back, can she?"
"Certainly not, Tom," I said. "A lady's under her bond just as a
gentleman is."
"There! hear that, Sally?" said Tom.
"Yes, I hear," she said, "so I suppose I must;" and Sally spoke in quite
a resigned way, keeping her word to Tom within three months, my father
saying that Sally had been the most faithful of servants, and had forced
upon them all her little savings in the time of their distress.
You may be sure I did not forget this on the day when my father gave her
away, and Tom had a nice little dowry with his wife.
It may be thought that, with so great a sum of money--so large a
fortune--I must have lived in great splendour during the rest of my
life. But it was not so. Certainly I have always since enjoyed the
comfort of a pleasant, well-kept, unostentatious home; but the fact is
this--it was my fate to marry a woman generous almost to a fault. As
you have seen, she began by giving the greatest treasure I found in the
New World--herself--to me; and then, upon the strength of our having
plenty of money, she was of opinion that its proper purpose was being
spent in doing good to others.
My uncle and Mrs Landell were settled in a pleasant little estate of
their own; and after a great deal of persuasion my father was induced to
take upon himself the position of a country gentleman. One way and
another our income became shrunk down to very reasonable proportions;
though, after Lilla has done all the good that she can in the course of
the year, we have always a little to spare.
My story is ended. And now that grey hairs have made their appearance,
bringing with them sounder thought and the ripe judgment of experience,
I often go over my adventures again, and chat about them with Tom, and
Sally his wife, when I have taken a run over to their prosperous farm;
but in spite of all the success that has attended me and mine, I think,
have thought, and I hope I shall still think to my last day, that my
journey to the New World, my adventures, and all I gained, would have
been but so much vanity and emptiness had I not won Lilla, who has shed
upon my life a sunshine such as has proved that after all _she_ was the
true gold.