She paused, for her uncle’s look frightened her.
“Go on, Isobel,” he said quickly.
“Your dear wife, Uncle, was not lost at that time—”
Captain Ellice turned pale. “What mean you, girl? How came you to know this?” Then a thought flashed across him. Seizing Isobel by the shoulder he gasped, rather than said:
“Speak quick—is—is she alive?”
“Yes, dear Uncle, she—”
The captain heard no more. He would have fallen to the ground had not Fred, who was almost as much overpowered as his father, supported him. In a few minutes he recovered, and he was told that Alice was alive—in England—in the cottage. This was said as they approached the door. Alice was aware of her husband’s arrival. In another moment husband, and wife, and son were reunited.
Scenes of intense joy cannot be adequately described, and there are meetings in this world which ought not to be too closely touched upon. Such was the present. We will therefore leave Captain Ellice and his wife and son to pour out the deep feelings of their hearts to each other, and follow the footsteps of honest John Buzzby, as he sailed down the village with his wife and children, and a host of admiring friends in tow.
Buzzby’s feelings had been rather powerfully stirred up by the joy of all around, and a tear would occasionally tumble over his weather-beaten cheek, and hang at the point of his sunburnt, and oft frost-bitten nose, despite his utmost efforts to subdue such outrageous demonstrations.
“Sit down, John, dear,” said Mrs Buzzby in kind but commanding tones, when she got her husband fairly into his cottage, the little parlour of which was instantly crowded to excess. “Sit down, John, dear, and tell us all about it.”