Mr. Aylett paused and put a kind hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry did not answer at once, but slowly his eyes turned away from the waters and the golden sun, slowly they were bent upon the marshes where the cattle were grazing, and then nearer yet to where Pitsea Manor Farm raised its head above a plantation of elms and oaks. Then a great struggle went on in the boy's mind; he remembered he was but sixteen years old, and that many a year must most likely elapse before he became the owner of Pitsea Farm and could do as he pleased, and that those years must be filled with dull routine labour, where little room was left for any adventure beyond fishing in the creek, or going over to Canvey Island to watch when the high waves broke over the new embankments made by Joas Croppenburg, the Dutchman, whose son still owned a third of the rich marshland of the island as a recompense for his father's sea walls. But young Joas used to tell tales of great Dutch sea fights and exploits, which, if Harry made the sacrifice Mr. Aylett was asking him to make, would but probe the wound of his desire, and so Croppenburg's stories must also be given up.
Harry's courage, however, was not merely nominal, it was of the right sort. The sacrifice he was asked to make was none the less great because it was one not seen of men. He was to give up his will, the hardest thing a man or a boy can do; but it needed only Mr. Aylett's firm answer to show Harry that his duty was very plain, and that God required this of him.
It was like taking a plunge into cold water, where it is the first resolution that is the worst part of the action; suddenly, with a quick lifting of his head, and a new hopeful light in his blue eyes very different from the unsatisfied longing gaze of ten minutes ago, Harry spoke, and as he did so his clenched hands and his whole demeanour told plainly that the boy meant what he said.
'I will give it up, sir; as it is, the wishing brings me no happiness, so I will even put the wishing to flight.'
Mr. Aylett grasped the lad's hand warmly.
'God bless you, Harry, you are a brave fellow. I am proud of you. Come to me to-morrow, and I will show you a new book a friend has sent me; or, better, walk back with me to the Vicarage.'
'I would willingly, sir,' said Harry quietly, 'but father bade me go to the meadow and see if White Star should be driven in under shelter to-night. Our man Fiske has met with an accident, so I promised to see after White Star before sundown. She was a little sick this morning.'
'To-morrow will do well enough,' said Mr. Aylett, glad to see that Harry was beginning already to turn his mind steadily to home matters, 'and if you have time we will go to St. Catherine's Church on Canvey. There is a young clergyman come there to see if he will accept the cure, and I know you will row me over.' Harry promised gladly, and then Mr. Aylett with another shake of the hand turned his face homeward. When he was gone Harry flung himself on the ground to think over the promise he had just given. He would--yes, he would keep his word.
CHAPTER II.
CAPTURED.