“Now,” said he, in conclusion, “you are both of you young and strong men who may yet do good service and honest work in the land. I have no desire to ruin your lives. Penal servitude might do so. Forgiveness may save you—therefore I forgive you! There is the open window. You are at liberty to go.”
The burglars had been gazing at their reprover with wide-open eyes. They now turned and gazed at each other with half-open mouths; then they again turned to the clergyman as if in doubt, but with a benignant smile he again pointed to the open window.
They rose like men in a dream, went softly across the room, stepped humbly out, and melted into darkness.
The parson’s conduct may not have been in accordance with law, but it was eminently successful, for it is recorded that those burglars laid that sermon seriously to heart—at all events, they never again broke into that parsonage, and never again was there occasion for Harry to call in the services of the ancient knight or the Crusader.
Chapter Eight.
Jim Greely, the North Sea Skipper.
When Nellie Sumner married James Greely—the strapping skipper of a Yarmouth fishing-smack—there was not a prettier girl in all the town, at least so said, or thought, most of the men and many of the women who dwelt near her. Of course there were differences of opinion on the point, but there was no doubt whatever about it in the mind of James Greely, who was overwhelmed with astonishment, as well as joy, at what he styled his “luck in catching such a splendid wife.”
And there was good ground for his strong feeling, for Nellie was neat, tidy, and good-humoured, as well as good-looking, and she made Jim’s home as neat and tidy as herself.