"You lose your self-command, Walter," said Beauchamp. "Be calm, and let us speak over this business rationally."
"Calm! Calm!" cried the young sailor, starting up. "How the devil would you have me calm, when you are speaking of things that are burning in my heart like coals of fire? How can I be calm?"
"You came here," said Beauchamp, somewhat sternly, "with a fixed determination, I suppose, of some kind--either intending to do right or to do wrong--to make the only reparation that you can for the crimes you have committed, by delivering your benefactor from the consequences of your errors--or boldly to deny what you have committed. If you intend to do right, the first noble and generous determination that you have formed for long, should teach you to execute your purpose with the calmness and fortitude of a man."
"You say true, sir--you say true!" replied the youth, in a tone of deep melancholy. "You always say true; and if I had attended to what you told me when you brought me home from the fire that night, I should not have felt as I do now--but there is no use of talking of that--I did come here with the intention of doing right; and I will do right, if you will tell me how. What I want to do, is to clear the captain of every thing, and make it so plain that he never had any hand in the bad business, that even those old devils at Emberton shall have nothing to say. You were going to tell me the way when I stopped you. Now, I will stick at nothing, either on my own account, or that of others--for as to that accursed ruffian who entrapped me into the business, I have had many a black thought, when he sneers at me because I am sorry, to finish him myself."
"Your only way, then, to make the reparation you propose," replied Beauchamp, "is to give such information as may lead to the apprehension and conviction of the men who actually committed the murder--for, from what you have said, I am led to believe that you had no absolute share in the deed itself."
"No, no! None, none!" cried the young man, rapidly. "I did not know they were going to do it--they had promised me, with the most solemn oaths, not to hurt a hair of his head, and I knew nothing of it till it was all over.
"Well, then," answered Beauchamp, "if that be the case, you will not only be enabled to make, as I said before, the only reparation in your power for the ill you have done, but you will entirely clear Captain Delaware, and yet run no danger yourself; for in his Majesty's proclamation on the subject, I find that a free pardon is promised to any one of the parties--with the exception of the actual murderers--who will bring his accomplices to justice. So that your life is safe."
"I care nothing about my life!" cried the young man, relapsing into impetuosity. "What the devil, do you think I am going to turn a pitiful king's evidence, and make a bargain for my own neck, while I am hanging my fellows. No, no! I will tell all that I know--I will go along with them, and be tried with them, and hanged with them too, for that matter--I care not--if I am alive on the execution day. But I will make no bargains about my life--none--none--my days are numbered, Mr. Burrel!" He added more calmly, "My days are numbered; and the last may come when it will--I will shake hands with it when it does. There is only one bargain I will make, and that I know you will grant me; for you were one of the few that were kind--It is about my poor mother I am talking. She has had sorrows enough, sir, and she shall only have one more for me; so, when I am dead, I hope you will promise to take care of her, and let her have enough--if the job do not kill her, which likely it may too; and that is the worst of it all; but, however, I have made up my mind, do you see, and so you must promise me, that she shall have the old cottage and forty pounds a-year to live on; and if nobody else gives it, you must."
"Most willingly will I do it, upon my honour," replied Beauchamp.
"That is enough, sir! Quite enough!" continued the young sailor. "You and I, Mr. Burrel, are quits in some things--you saved my life once; and I can tell you, that if it had not been for me on that horrible night, you would either have been left, with your throat cut at the door of the house, or have gone overboard, and to the bottom, as we sailed along."