“He lives; and I am in hopes he will be pardoned.”
Mrs Beazeley sprang from her chair and seized me by the other arm.
“I see—I see by your face. Yes, Jacob, he is pardoned; and we shall have our Tom again.”
“You are right, Mrs Beazeley; he is pardoned, and will soon be here.”
The old couple sank down on their knees beside me. I left them, and beckoned from the door to Tom, who flew up, and in a moment was in their arms. I assisted him to put his mother into her chair, and then went out to recover myself from the agitating scene. I remained about an hour outside, and then returned. The old couple seized me by the hands, and invoked blessings on my head.
“You must now part with Tom a little while,” said I; “there are others to make happy besides yourselves.”
“Very true,” replied old Tom; “go, my lad, and comfort her. Come, missus, we mustn’t forget others.”
“Oh, no. Go, Tom; go and tell her that I don’t care how soon she is my daughter.”
Tom embraced his mother, and followed me to the boat; we pulled up against the tide, and were soon at Putney.
“Tom, you had better stay in the boat. I will either come or send for you.”