'Bad son! bad father!' muttered the man. 'O my God! the tree is sinking! the branch is giving way! Tell me, quickly, for mercy's sake. My daughter--Bessie--she is alive, then? Tell me of her.'
'She was well when I saw her,' replied Saul, with a groan, thinking of George and his lost hopes. 'She has grown into a beautiful woman.'
'Thank God! If you ever see her again, tell her of me--ask my father to forgive me. Take the love of a dying man to them. I have gold about me--it is theirs. Say that I intended to come home, and ask forgiveness, but it has been denied me. God has punished me! I am sinking!----'
A cry of agony followed, and the wind took it up, and carried it over the hills. Then all was hushed, and the erring son and father spoke no more.
Saul offered up a prayer for Bessie's father, and waited sadly for his time to come.
As the night waned, the fierce wind grew softer, and sighed and moaned, repentant of the desolation it had caused. What a long, long night it was! But at length the morning's light appeared, and then Saul, looking down, saw that he and David's little daughter were the only ones left. Stronger grew the light, until day had fairly dawned. As Saul looked over the white expanse, he felt that there was no hope for him, and his mind began to wander. Long-forgotten incidents of his childhood came to him; he saw his father and mother, long since dead; he saw a brother who had died when he himself was a child; he saw Jane as she was when he first met her, as she was on that sad night when she told him of the duty that lay before him; he saw George and the lights on Westminster-bridge. All these visions rose for him out of the snow. And fields and flowers came, and he wandered among them hand in hand with Jane, as they had done on one happy holiday. It did not seem strange to him that there was no colour in any of these things; it caused no wonder in his mind that all these loved ones and the fields and flowers, perfect in form and shape, were colourless, were white and pure as the snow which stretched around him on every side. They were dear memories all of them; emblems of purity. And in that dread time he grew old; every hour was a year. But in the midst of all the terror of the time he pressed David's little daughter closer and closer to his breast, and committed their souls to God. So that day passed, and the night; and the sun rose in splendour. The white hills blushed, like maidens surprised. With wild eyes and fainting soul, Saul looked around; suddenly a flush of joy spread over his face. Upon a distant mount, stood Jane. 'Come!' he cried. And as Jane walked over the snow hills towards him, he waited and waited until she was close to him; then sinking in her arms, he fell asleep.
[PART III.]
[I HAVE COME TO RETURN YOU SOMETHING.]
On the afternoon of the day on which the Queen of the South (with George Naldret in it, as was supposed) sailed out of the Mersey for the southern seas, young Mr. Million, with a small bouquet of choice flowers in his hand, made his appearance in the old grocer's shop. Ben Sparrow, who was sitting behind his counter, jumped up when the young brewer entered, and rubbed his hands and smirked, and comported himself in every way as if a superior being had honoured him with his presence. Young Mr. Million smiled pleasantly, and without the slightest condescension. The cordiality of his manner was perfect.
'Quite a gentleman,' thought old Ben; 'every inch a gentleman!'