"Tell me your desires; for, believe me, my son, I have no dearer wish than to further them."
Tristram held out a hand and took his father's.
"Forgive me, sir, for my coldness just now. Remember that I had never seen, had scarcely heard of, you before. You are very good to me. I believe, by looking in your eyes, that you love me; and I believe—I know—that in time I should love you greatly in return. But you must pardon that which I am going to say. Sir, I cannot help loving best those who have dealt lovingly with me all my life. I was homesick—" he broke off, as a lump rose in this throat.
"You shall go home," said Captain Salt.
Still holding his hand, Tristram stared at him incredulously.
"Why should you doubt me, my son? Do you think I despise those feelings, or can neglect them? No; I honour them, though bitterly regretting that, as fate has willed it, they can never be entertained for me."
"Don't say that, my father."
"Why should I blink the truth?" Captain Salt turned and brushed away a fictitious tear. "No, Tristram; you shall go back to those you love better. I only ask you to be patient for a few days; for, indeed, I have but a certain amount of influence with those who enlisted you to-day against your will. Listen. Early to-morrow the squadron sets sail. If the wind holds we shall be within the Maese by Sunday morning. As soon as your regiment disembarks you shall be a free man: for not till then shall I have an opportunity of speaking with his Majesty. The squadron will be returning at once to this port, and I trust you may return with it. In the meantime you must give me your word to remain where you are; for though the punishment is remitted, you are still under arrest. I have seen your captain, however, and you will find matters made very light for you. The sentry will bring you food and drink."
He stopped, for Tristram had fallen on one knee and was passionately kissing his hand.
"How ill you must think of me!" he murmured; "and how can I thank you?"