“But why not try to escape?” said Mrs Stuart, earnestly. “There are some here who could aid you.”
Here the widow attempted to reason with Gascoyne, as her son had done before, but with similar want of success. Gascoyne remained immovable. He did indeed betray deep emotion while the woman reasoned with him, in tones of intense earnestness; but he would not change his mind. He said that if Montague, as the representative of the law, would set him free in consideration of what he had recently done, he would accept of liberty; but nothing would induce him to attempt to escape.
Leaving him in this mood, Mrs Stuart hurried to the cottage where Montague had taken up his abode.
The young captain received her kindly. Having learned from Corrie all about the friendship that existed between the widow and Gascoyne, he listened with the utmost consideration to her.
“It is impossible,” said he, shaking his head; “I cannot set him free.”
“Do his late services weigh nothing with you?” pleaded the widow.
“My dear madam,” replied Montague, sorrowfully, “you forget that I am not his judge. I have no right to weigh the circumstances of his case. He is a convicted and self-acknowledged pirate. My only duty is to convey him to England and hand him over to the officers of justice. I sympathise with you, indeed I do, for you seem to take his case to heart very much, but I cannot help you. I must do my duty. The Foam will be ready for sea in a few days, in it I shall convey Gascoyne to England.”
“O Mr Montague, I do take his case to heart, as you say, and no one on this earth has more cause to do so. Will it interest you more in Gascoyne, and induce you to use your influence in his favour, if I tell you that—that—he is my husband?”
“Your husband!” cried Montague, springing up and pacing the apartment with rapid strides.
“Ay,” said Mrs Stuart, mournfully, covering her face with her hands; “I had hoped that this secret would die with me and him, but in the hope that it may help, ever so little, to save his life, I have revealed it to you.”