“Safe home!” said Clement. “Oh, thankworthy!”
CHAPTER XXXII—ANCHORED
“Safe home, safe home in port,
Rent cordage, shattered deck;
Torn sails, provision short,
And only not a wreck;
But all the joy upon the shore,
To tell our voyage the perils o’er!”
Safe home! It might be said in another sense for Bernard, for he was naturally so strong and healthy that the effects of exposure and exhaustion were not long in passing off, the injury to the chest proved to be only temporary; and having cased him like a statue in plaster of Paris, the surgeons decided, to the joy of his family, that the more serious injuries would be better recovered from in the fresh air of Vale Leston, than in the fishy, muddy atmosphere of Ewmouth.
So he was transported thither, and installed in Felix’s study, among the familiar sights and sounds, and where another joy awaited him, and where he lay in happy stillness.
Phyllis had borne up bravely through the suspense, never relinquishing a strong assurance of hope; but when that hope was actually crowned by the first telegram, the reaction set in, and she had broken down so entirely that her mother durst not let her move at first, and indeed accompanied her and her little girl as far as the junction, being herself on the way to Larne.
And Geraldine’s heart was at peace when she saw Phyllis sitting by the bed, her hand in his, content to see and not to speak. Another visitor appeared the following day, namely, the Bishop of Albertstown, who had remained at Larne till he could see his fellow passengers in safe hands. Then he had crossed to Bristol, and before his hurried visit to his sisters he could not but come to see his beloved old pupil, Clement, and share with him those reminiscences of her, who, as he had only now learnt, had given her young superabundant life for him, a man growing into age, whose work might be nearly done.
He only saw Bernard in silence, but heard from Clement the account of those last moments, which showed how entirely Angela had been conscious of what she was doing, and how willingly she had devoted herself to save those whom she loved and valued.
While yet they talked, there was a fresh arrival. Sir Ferdinand Travis Underwood, who could not forbear the running down to hear perfectly all that was to be heard, and to make arrangements that might relieve Bernard’s mind, if he were indeed on the way of recovery.
In fact, almost the first thought after that of the wife and child had been the security of the drenched, stained, and soiled pocket-book; nor would the patient be satisfied till he had been allowed himself to hand it over to the head of his firm, with, “There, Fernan, safe, though smashed with me. Tell Brown.”