“I scarce knew what to do: for there was no use in telling the girl that she was being deceived. She would not have believed me.
“If she had believed me, and given the puppy up, it would not have made much difference to me. My confidence in her was gone. I could have had it no more. She had acted ungrateful to me—by giving her preference to a conceited swell—who took her about to places of amusement, where men do not take young girls, whom they intend afterwards to marry. Ann had proved herself unworthy of a love like mine. I had toiled for her, and loved her, for nine long years; and this was the return.
“My good resolutions all forsook me—by the shock which her ingratitude gave me; and ever since that time, I’ve been only Stormy Jack, and nothing more. You know what he is.” Stormy once more relapsed into silence, as if his story had been concluded. More deeply interested than ever, I desired to know more. In answer, to my request, he resumed his narrative.
“Well,” continued he. “My next voyage was a long one. I made the trip to India, and was gone fourteen months; but on my return, at the end of that time, I had not forgotten Ann. I still loved her—although I knew that she could never be my wife. Even had she consented, my pride would not allow of my marrying her now.
“When I got back from India, I went to the little shop to enquire for her. She was no longer there. I found her in the work-house—the same from which she had been taken when a child. She was the mother of a child, seven months old; and had never been married. I determined to teach her manners. You may think it strange, Rowley, but I was now, more than ever, resolved she should love me. It would be some satisfaction for what I had suffered on her account. I knew my motive wasn’t altogether as it ought to have been, but I could not help doing as I did.
“When paid the wages, owing me by the East Indiaman, I had about twenty-five pounds to the good; and, with this money, I took Ann out of the work-house, and placed her in a comfortable home. I acted, to all appearance, as kindly to her, and seemed as affectionate as I had ever been; and I even gave her more of my company than I had ever done before. When she came to contrast my conduct with that of the heartless villain who had ruined and deserted her, she could not help loving me. On her knees, and with tears in her eyes, she confessed her folly, and sorrow for the past; and prayed for me to forgive her.
“‘Of course, I forgive you, Ann,’ said I, ‘or I would not have returned to you.’
“‘And will you love me as much as you once did?’ she then asked.
“‘Certainly I will.’
“‘John,’ she said, ‘you are the most noble-minded man in the world; and I only begin to know your real worth. Oh! what a fool I have been, not to have known it before! You are better than all other men on the earth!’