At the same moment the servant replied, that Miss Barham was at home, and ushered the two up to the drawing-room, while a great deal of loud talking, with evident haste and eagerness, was heard from the chamber which they passed on the right.
"What name shall I give, sir?" demanded the servant at the drawing-room door.
"Martin," replied the stranger; and the moment after Mr. and Mrs. Martin were announced, in a loud tone.
In an elegant, though somewhat small drawing-room, with everything which could contribute to comfort and convenience around her, sat Helen Barham, not less beautiful than ever, though with a deep shade of melancholy hanging upon her fair brow, and a colour, almost too delicately lovely, in her cheek. She raised her eyes as the man threw open the door, and then started up with a look almost of alarm, paused, and hesitated till the servant was gone, and then, with one of her radiant smiles, chasing away the cloud, like the sun at noon, she pointed to a chair, saying--"I am glad to see you--pray sit down. I know not what startled me, but the name brought back painful memories."
"I do not wonder at it, ma'am," answered Harry Martin--"though, after all, I think, if I were you, it would bring up the proudest and happiest memories that could come into my heart. Memories of having done, Miss Barham, what there are not two people in all Europe would do--ay, not only of having saved a fellow-creature from death, but of having saved him from perhaps worse destructions. I have come to thank you, ma'am--and my poor wife, too; and the first name we shall teach our baby to pray for is yours--isn't it, Jane?"
Jane Martin went round the table, and dropping upon her knees beside Helen Barham, kissed her hand, and bathed it with tears.
"Oh, no, no!" cried Helen, trying to raise her. "Pray do not do so!--you agitate--you distress me. I did but keep the promise I had made."
"Ay, ma'am, and nobly," replied Harry Martin; "give me those that do< br> keep their word in this world of promise-breakers. But Jane has got something to tell you, she will say it better than I can, for such words are so new in my mouth that they come rather awkwardly."
Helen turned an inquiring look towards Jane Martin, who had now risen, and was standing by her side, wiping away the tears that the sweet feelings of gratitude had drawn forth. "He means me to tell you, madam," said the latter, "something that I am sure, if I judge you rightly, will repay you for all you did, and all you suffered on that terrible day at York. He has determined, madam, more out of gratitude to you and one other, who has befriended us, too, in our time of need, to change his way of life altogether. We are going to a far country, ma'am, as far from England as we can get, without going out of Europe; I mean to Naples, where I had once an uncle, who is, I believe, living still. There we may do honestly and industriously, and, if possible, in time, will pay back everything that is not rightly ours."
"Oh, do so!--do so!" cried Helen, gladly; "the blessing which that very thought will give you, will be worth any other kind of happiness."