“I wish Mr. Huntley—By the way, Hamish, it would only be a mark of courtesy if you stepped as far as Mr. Huntley’s and told him of Charles’s return,” broke off Mr. Channing; the idea occurring to him with Mr. Huntley’s name. “None have shown more sympathy than he, and he will be rejoiced to hear that the child is safe.”
“I’ll go at once,” said Hamish. Nothing loth was he, on his own part, to pay a visit to Mr. Huntley’s.
Hamish overtook Mr. Huntley close to his own home. He was returning from the town. Had he been home earlier, he would have heard the news from Harry. But Harry had now had his dinner and was gone again. He did not dine at the later hour.
“I have brought you some news, sir,” said Hamish, as they entered together.
“News again! It cannot be very great, by the side of what we were favoured with last night from Mr. Roland,” was the remark of Mr. Huntley.
“But indeed it is. Greater news even than that. We have found Charley, Mr. Huntley.”
Mr. Huntley sprang from the chair he was taking. “Found Charley! Have you really? Where has he—Hamish, I see by your countenance that the tidings are good. He must be alive.”
“He is alive and well. At least, well, comparatively speaking. A barge was passing down the river at the time he fell in, and the man leaped overboard and saved him. Charley has been in the barge ever since, and has had brain fever.”
“And how did he come home?” wondered Mr. Huntley, when he had sufficiently digested the news.
“The barge brought him back. It is on its way up again. Charley arrived under escort of the barge-woman, a red handkerchief on his head in lieu of his trencher, which, you know, he lost that night,” added Hamish, laughing. “Lady Augusta, who was going out of the house as he entered, was frightened into the belief that it was his ghost, and startled them all with her cries to that effect, including the bishop, who was with my father in the drawing-room.”