"God bless him!" said the youth fervently. "God bless him!"
"God will bless him, my boy!" replied the widow. "God will bless him, and make him happy, I am sure; for if ever there was a friend to the friendless, it is Mr. Beauchamp. Only three days after the trial he sent me this;" and she put into her son's hands a letter, in which Henry Beauchamp explained to her that the young sailor, having been severely wounded in turning away a pistol which had been directed towards his head, he was not only bound but pleased to make him a return, which would place him above temptation from poverty.
Beauchamp, who hated that any one should feel he was conferring an obligation upon them, added many a reason to show that he was rather pleasing himself than loading them with benefits; and, as he read, the young sailor shook his head with the first smile that had curled his lip for many weeks. "Aye!" he said, "he is a noble gentleman as ever lived; but he need not have said so much to make us take the money, mother; for if there is any body in the world I could be proud to take it from, it is from Mr. Beauchamp; and I declare, mother, if I get over it all, I will try all my life long to do nothing but what is right---just to show him that I am grateful."
"It is far the best way that you can show it, Wat," replied his mother; "and oh, my boy, it is the only way that ever you can set your mother's heart at peace again!"
"Well, I will, mother! I will!" cried the lad grasping her hand; "and I am sure that Heaven will help me if I try--for since I have had this wound through my side, I have not felt half so wild and wilful as I used to do; and when I was in the prison of a night, I tried to pray many a time--and if it had not been for that, I don't think I should have got through the whole of that bad business steadily. So, I will try and do right; indeed I will!"
The tears streamed down his mother's cheeks; for the relief that Beauchamp's liberality had given her, was nothing to that which those words afforded, and the night passed over in peace. The next morning the news spread through Emberton that the widow's son had returned; and one or two of the ladies of that place, suddenly smitten with an interest in the widow's fate, called at the cottage they had never entered before, just to ask after her and her son. They carried no gossip back into the town with them, however; for the widow coldly, though civilly, replied that her son was not well, and dismissed them with a brief answer to more impertinent questions. Three days after that again, the fresh tidings fluttered on the air of Emberton, that Widow Harrison and her son had left the place, and had gone to France. Every one opened their eyes--every one conjectured--and then the nine day's wonder was over, and the whole affair was forgotten.
Only one person in the neighbourhood saw the young sailor after his return. This was Dr. Wilton, who, having delivered in person the packet which Beauchamp had sent to the widow, was now visited by both herself and her son ere their departure, with a request that he would convey to their benefactor the expression of their deepest gratitude. The worthy clergyman, on first hearing who it was that waited him in his library, had meditated an exhortation to the young sailor on his future conduct; but when he saw the worn and haggard look, and the evident traces of ruined health which his countenance displayed--all that was severe in the good man's oration died away, and it breathed nothing but hope and consolation.
"You say you are going to France," he added, "and I will give you two books to take with you, which, after your Bible, I should wish you to read attentively. They contain neither cant nor affectation," he added; "but they point out the best way for one who has been led astray to return unto right."
Both mother and son received the books with gratitude, and after having promised to let him know where they settled in France, they left the worthy clergyman in the act of muttering to himself, "He'll not live three months, poor unhappy lad!--There is consumption in his eyes and on his cheek!"
Scarcely were they gone; and scarcely was Dr. Wilton's comment upon the young sailor's appearance pronounced, when the rush of wheels was heard before his windows, and in a moment the servant announced Lord Ashborough. The doctor started up, bewildered; but as Beauchamp entered the room, dressed in deep mourning, the events that had lately taken place recurred to his old preceptor's mind; and shaking him by the hand, he exclaimed, "Welcome, my dear Harry, and let me pay my tribute to your new rank; though, to tell you the truth, when the servant announced the Earl of Ashborough, I scarcely knew who to expect. I had forgotten all about it, and have been calling you Mr. Beauchamp for this half hour, with two pensioners of yours--Widow Harrison and her son. But with me, I am afraid you will be Harry Beauchamp to the end of your days."