Pat the Lighthouse Boy

by Evelyn Everett-Green

"Oh, my lady, I only did what any other mother would have done——"

"Ah, but you did more than some could have done, because you had skill and knowledge beyond what many have. The doctor said so himself. But let me see the sailor who saved my child. I must thank him, too. And he must never suffer for his devotion in risking his life for our boy. You must tell me what I can do for him. Mr. Deering says he fears he will never be strong again."

"Oh, I don't know, my lady. He is getting on; but he hasn't tried to do aught but sit by the fire yet. But he's up to-day, and you can see him by stepping indoors. May I just tell him you are here? But I do not know by what name to call you?"

"I am Lady St. John," was the answer. "My husband is Sir Arthur St. John, who—but you will hardly know that. And Rupert is our only child. Let me go and see the man who saved his life."

Eileen was sadly afraid that Jim would be very rough and gruff when the visitor came and stood beside him; but somehow—whether it was that illness had softened him, or that the influence of the children had had an effect upon him, or that the inherent sweetness of the lady took effect in an unexpected manner—anyhow, he was wonderfully gentle in his manner to both the strangers, and though he said almost nothing, his rugged face looked smiling and peaceful, and there was no rough turning away from the kindness that was proffered. Not much was said that first visit; but a great many questions were asked both of the Careys and of Jim. The visitors sat down to partake of the simple fare provided for them, and whilst they ate they talked and asked questions. Eileen, intent on hospitable cares, scarcely noted all that was passing, and Nat was too straightforward and unsuspecting to see the drift of much that was said, and spoke freely enough in reply to Sir Arthur's various inquiries as to his past life, his qualifications, tastes, and pursuits. Pat's health was also mentioned, for it had been for his sake that his father had ever consented to become an inmate of Lone Rock Lighthouse. And whilst the elders thus talked, Pat and Rupert sat close together, and sometimes Pat had to brush away the tears from his eyes, for he knew the parents would take their little boy home with them, and it was dreadful to him to think of seeing his little prince no more. Rupert, too, was very much divided in mind as to whether or not he would "let himself be took away;" but Pat loyally told him in eager whispers that he must "do as his own mother wished," and the tie of blood was beginning to assert itself when once the little fellow had felt his parents' arms around him.

But when the moment for parting came, and Lady St. John saw the tears in the eyes of Eileen, and the manful struggles on Pat's part to keep back his sobs, her own eyes looked very dewy, and she turned and spoke quickly in a foreign tongue for several moments with her husband. Then turning to the expectant group on the rocks, she said, smiling sweetly—

"You will see us all again very soon. I promise to bring Rupert back to see you in about a week's time from this—at least if we get a fine day. So cheer up, my brave little Pat, and do not cry, Mrs. Carey. You shall see your nursling again very soon; and I hope we may have pleasant news for you by that time."

Then the lady stepped into the boat, Nat took the boy from his wife's arms and handed him to his mother, half eager and half reluctant to go, Sir Arthur followed, and the men pushed off, whilst Pat watched through a mist of tears the disappearance of his fairy prince, who seemed for the moment to have vanished out of his life for ever.