In a distant county, in the North of England, there was situated in a
quiet country parish a rural rectory, surrounded by a garden, and
adorned with the only good trees in the neighbourhood; it stood
sheltered at the foot of a hill, the only rising ground to be seen
amidst a flat and smoke-dried country. Within that rectory lived a
venerable and venerated father, with a loving and adored mother, who had
hitherto been surrounded at Christmas by the happy faces and smiling
countenances of thirteen children, with their numerous offsprings.
A bright blazing fire is sending a gloomy tint all over the pretty
drawing room, hung with green, and adorned with bright flowers, worked
by skilful fingers. Various beautiful and rare specimens of Foreign
workmanship ornament every part of the room, chairs and sofas of ease
and luxury pervade the apartment, nothing seems wanting to render this
room the beau ideal of an English home at Christmas time, for the bright
green holly with its scarlet berries is hung in every direction. It is
well inhabited too. In the high-backed old-fashioned chair sits a sweet
and dignified lady, but her face had a painful expression, her eyes were
fixed on nothing, her delicate white fingers were half clasped together,
her thoughts seemed far away. On the opposite side of the fire sat a
girl writing, whose pretty figure bent over the paper until the long
chestnut curls lay resting on the table, but they quite concealed the
face. A tall slim figure was busily winding silk, with her back to the
fire, her dark hair, beautifully plaited in a thick Grecian plait,
shewing her small head to great advantage. In full front of the fire sat
another girl, whose pretty sweet face was bedewed with tears, which
every now and then she wiped away. A step was heard on the stairs, the
sweet Mother's eyes recovered their animation, the winder stopped from
her occupation, the writer raised a pale and care-worn face, each
advanced to the door as it opened to admit the grey-headed Father. He
bore a packet of letters, but his face was mournful as he said, "No,
none from them." "Alas, alas," said the sorrowful Mother, sinking back
into her chair, "what are we to think? I see, I see, all this heap of
letters, and not one contains the news we pine for. They are only
repetitions of what we have already had; anxious enquiries from still
more anxious parents, painful to read, still more painful to answer. I
cannot read them, I cannot bear them in my sight." As they tried to
comfort her, rapid wheels and fast-trotting horses' feet were heard, and
the next minute a carriage with four breathless and smoking horses
turned into the drive, and stood at the front door. Before they had
stopped, a gentleman sprung from the carriage and bounded up stairs in a
minute, his figure being concealed in a travelling cloak. As he raised
his hat, he shewed the fine bald head and handsome countenance of Sir
Walter Mayton. The aged father raised one hand, the sorrowful mother
clasped the other, as they exclaimed, "What news, what news. Have you
heard of our lost ones?" He could not bring himself to speak the
negative that his sorrowful shake of the hand indicated, but another
person was behind him, having come in the same carriage. Who could
mistake that kind and loving face, the noble features so handsome in
their regularity, so beneficent, so benign, the snow-white hair, the
merry kind blue eye, the upright figure. The weeping Mother threw
herself into his arms. "Don't cry, don't cry, my dear Emily," said he,
the tears rolling down his rich ruddy cheek, "we shall find them again.
We will go in search of them. Remember, I too am a sufferer. Have I not
lost my right hand, the sunbeam of my house, my sweet, little,
mischievous, pretty, fidgety Gatty," and he raised his eyes reverently
to heaven, as if to invoke a blessing on his lost child; and this was
Gatty's Father, who had left his court, and had come down purposely with
Sir Walter Mayton to consult on the best mode of discovering the lost
party, and taking the advice of all those nearly and dearly interested
in them.
"Now," said Sir Walter Mayton, seeing that the painfulness of the
meeting was nearly over, "now let us proceed to business. First of all,
will you allow me to ring the bell for some dinner, as I can tell my
story while it is getting ready, and we must leave immediately after."
That matter being arranged, he proceeded, "You are aware that I,
according to directions that I received from our lost party, dated
Madeira, followed them to Rio Janeiro by the next packet. I had a
capital voyage, and was so speedy in my movements that I was not
surprised at finding La Luna not in port when I arrived. I waited
patiently for a week during which time I hired a house and made
preparations for their seeing all that was worth seeing in the country.
At the end of that time your son's ship came into port, and she had not
reported herself five minutes ere I was on board. He, with me, expressed
great disappointment at the non-arrival of our party, and, from being
rather fidgety before, I became doubly so at seeing his anxiety.
Accordingly, we left orders and persons ready to receive them should
they arrive by any means unknown to us; and I, at his request,
accompanied him on his cruise up and down the coast, thinking, in my
impatience, that I should hear of them sooner; and at all events, it was
some employment, for, I frankly own, I could not have waited another
week doing nothing, and suffering such anxiety.
"We were out a fortnight, and all we heard was that there had been a
tremendous gale, for those vessels that were only in the tail of it
suffered considerably. But, your son had no fear of La Luna riding it
out, knowing what a good sea-boat she was; except, indeed, she had by
some misfortune got into the circle of the storm, by which she would not
only have the worst of it, but be violently exposed for many more days
than otherwise. Our anxiety grew with the weeks, so at the end of the
fortnight we put into Rio again, and consulted the best authorities. We
all agreed on one subject, namely, that having good sea-room, which we
calculated she must have had when the storm overtook her, she could not
have foundered or been lost. We had then to think what else could have
occurred, and in making up our minds to wait patiently another
fortnight, we calculated that ladies do sometimes change their minds,
and that they might have been seduced into landing on some of the
numerous and lonely islands with which the Atlantic abounds.
"But, it was sorry work this waiting, I determined to make them pay
dearly for breaking their promise, should it be the case, and for
putting me into such a painful state."
"I can well believe it, Sir, I can well believe it," said the
grey-headed Father. "Thank you, thank you for all your kind interest."
"Nay, Sir, thank me not. I own I have neither chick nor child, and so
may not be expected to feel as much as a parent would do on such an
occasion; but, Sir, I feel for my wards as tenderly as any Father can, I
would rather a thousand ills occurred to me than that a hair of their
heads should be injured." His strong voice faltered, "But, enough, I
came here to tell my tale, and not to indulge in unavailing sorrow. Let
it suffice to tell you I left not a port unexplored on the coast of
America; I left not a stone unturned to learn their fate; I rested not
day or night; your son had permission from the admiral to devote as much
time to the same search, as his duties would permit. I mentally resolved
I would not leave the spot until I heard something of them."
"How kind, how good you are," said the listeners.
"And I should have kept my promise, had it not been for a letter from
Mr. M., who you know is co-trustee and joint guardian with me of your
grandchildren. Of course the loss of such a party soon became known, in
fact our anxiety, and all we did, and the sympathy we met with, and the
help we obtained, would detain you much too long were I to tell you. But
you will not be surprised to hear that the next heir to my wards'
estates has intimated his knowledge that some dire misfortune has
occurred to the three children on whom the property is entailed, your
grandchildren. I, therefore, came home at once. I have consulted Mr. M.,
I have taken the ablest advice, and where could I have better than from
him who is so interested in the matter, and so high in his profession?"
Bowing to Gatty's Father. "Also I have seen the once-hasty heir, and
settled his business, I have put everything into the hands of Mr. M.
regarding the property, and in such training that nothing can be done
for a year or two by the next heir, and now I am come down to see you,
and take your orders and wishes, and to-morrow I sail for America to
prosecute my search, and not leave it until I find them dead or alive."
"You are too kind, too good, one might expect such devotion in one of
their relations, but not in one barely connected with them. We know not
how to thank you."
With such speeches the whole party were proceeding, but Sir Walter
interrupted them, saying, "Nay, nay, say no more, I am not acting so
disinterestedly as you think, my conscience would not suffer me to rest
easy did I not do my duty to the children of one of my oldest and
dearest friends. At his dying request I undertook the charge, and only
with life do I mean to relinquish my care over them. Besides, look round
amongst all who are now mourning the loss of those I am about to seek;
have they not ties of home, children, professions? I have none. I had
but to guard the property of my wards, superintend their education, and
prevent their mother spoiling them, and, by this sad event that business
is over. It is my duty to seek for them; as a military man and
acquainted with the world, I am fitted for adventure and all its
consequences. I go with a cheerful heart and hopeful expectations. I
have but one sorrow, and that is the mad permission I gave them to go
without me." Thus saying, he arose and paced the room rapidly. Gatty's
Father rose also, and, taking his hand, solemnly thanked him for what he
was about to do as regarded the welfare of his lost child, continuing
in this strain, "Your language and energy, Sir Walter, make me wish I
could accompany you, but that you know is impossible, serving her
Majesty in the capacity I do. But my heart and prayers go with you, and
remember that as I cannot indulge my wish to join you in your search,
you must command my purse. Ah my Gatty, my pretty darling, did your
Father reckon your value by his purse, what worlds could contain the
treasure I would give for thee? The merciful God preserve my dear child,
and restore her to my arms." All were too much affected to speak for
some little time, but the meal being announced as ready, they entered
once more into conversation as they ate it.
Emily, the active winder, asked if they had escaped the tempest, what
probable fate could have detained them so long? Sir Walter looked up,
quickly laid down his knife and fork, and was about to say something,
when he corrected himself, and said instead, "You shall know all I can
learn when I get to America."
"But," said Charlotte, looking up from between her long curls, with
great anxiety, "you do know more only you are afraid to tell us. Pray be
kind to us, and tell us all you know." "Why should I tell you what would
add to your sorrow, when there may be nothing but conjecture in the
idea?" "Oh," said the eager Mother, "tell us all, we are so bewildered
and lost in conjectures, that nothing you can tell us could add to the
anxiety we are in. Moreover, I think I know what you mean. I have
already hinted such a thing to my husband. Are you not afraid they have
been captured by the pirates, whose depredations my son has been ordered
to subdue?" "Just so, my dear Madam, it was the common opinion of every
one, when I left Rio, that they had fallen into the hands of the gang of
pirates now infesting those seas. This knowledge has added an additional
spur to your son's exertions, though he did not want it, for the Admiral
had been laughing at him, and calling his ship a 'Will o' the Wisp,' she
seemed to be in every port every day. I can assure you, Sir," turning to
the Father, "you may, amidst all your sorrow, congratulate yourself on
having for a son one of the most promising officers in Her Majesty's
service, and it is well known too." The dear beloved parents needed such
a balm to their harassed minds. "But, can you," said Gatty's Father,
"form any conjecture as to what would be their fate, say they were in
the hands of the pirates?" "I took good care, Sir, before I left Rio, to
offer very tempting ransoms, and to publish them in all quarters, and it
is well known they are a very needy set, and that so much money will be
too difficult for them to refuse. So I have every hope, and now I must
be off."
Amidst the prayers, tears, blessings, and good wishes of the whole party
he departed, leaving the loving Mother comfortable, the christian Father
resigned, the sweet anxious sisters hopeful. But the weary months flew
by; the distant parents came to talk over the fate of the lost ones; the
letters from America grew brief and desponding; hope died totally away
in the breasts of some; Sir Walter again visited England, and again
returned to pursue his search; H.M.S. C---- was on the eve of being
ordered home; some went into deep mourning, as if their nearest and
dearest were but just dead; the over-hasty heir was beginning to
threaten; the letters home ceased, as if it were better not to write at
all than to write disappointment.
Had years gone by since that pretty drawing room had disclosed the
affectionate family mourning their lost ones on Christmas-day? Had not
Christmas come and gone, and yet they were still mourning? Time will
show. It takes the sick couch, the dying words, the quivering breath,
the last sigh, the solemn funeral pomp, to make death seem reality, to
be assured we have lost "the light of our eyes," to be certain that one
from amongst us has gone, and that we shall see his face no more.
Without all this, was it possible to feel that so large a gap was made
in the family circle, such a rent was torn from the flourishing tree,
and yet no sign was given to show how it was done?
Weep on, beloved mourners, weep on, but not for ever. Have we not a
home, where no such ties can be severed, no such grief felt? This is but
a passage to a better world; why should we grieve at what occurs to us
herein, when we have the home of the blessed before us, the rest of the
faithful awaiting us. In such words spake the pious, humble, consistent
Father to his family, and they were comforted; and as months flew by,
they whispered and talked of their lost ones, as if they were already
denizens of the bright world beyond the tomb, and peace was restored to
the family.