The explanation, that ensued, would be superfluous to relate; it filled up the time till the hour of dinner put an end to it. Devereux’s provisions furnished out an excellent repast, and the sea-air supplied an appetite. Anderton fed heartily, and the languor of his countenance yielded to the joint effects of cordial diet, and that elevation of spirits, which the conversation of De Lancaster and Wilson had inspired him with. After a glass or two of delicious wine had gone temperately round, the cabin was cleared; all, who had charge of the ship, repaired to their duty on the deck, and the three passengers were left at liberty to resume their conversation.
CHAPTER V.
John De Lancaster and Wilson arrive at Kray Castle.
From the preceding Chapter it appears that John De Lancaster had made known to Anderton the situation of Amelia Jones, and that gentleman no sooner found himself in private with his new friends, than, turning to our hero, he said—The hopes, you have held out to me of beholding the relick of my dear-loved friend, inspire me with new life, and I will not despair but that the clear air of Wales may keep my waining lamp alive a little longer.
At least I’ll give the experiment a chance, for though I don’t fear death, simply considered as a dismission from this world, yet I would most devoutly wish to fit myself for it as my passport to the world to come. For that, alas! I have made no preparation. Of my religion I am supremely ignorant; I have had no church, no pastor to instruct me. I scarce know why and by what right I call myself a Christian: I must believe I ought to understand the book of duties, that is open to me; but where is the instructor? Nothing can be too much for me to give, could I but find that charitable man, who patiently and piously would teach me rightly to know and reverence my God, or ere I am summoned to appear before him. The tomb itself can be no darker than my ignorant mind; he whose instruction will throw light on that, will merit all the uses of my fortune, on which there is not in this world one, who by affinity or friendship has the slightest claim, now that Amelia Jones is so disposed of.
Stop there, said the Reverend Mr. Wilson, if you please. Had you not named what seems so like a lure to bribe me to your service, I had offered my best endeavours, as in duty bound (being myself a minister of the Gospel), to give you that assistance, which you profess yourself so earnest to obtain.
Oh that you would! said Anderton.
Be patient, rejoined Wilson, I can make no promise till I am satisfied, that you withdraw all thoughts of every thing, which seems allied to worldly recompence, and credit me for pure benevolence and zeal to serve my God by services to you. Here therefore we must conclude this conversation for the present, and wait till further knowledge of each other may possibly dispose us to renew it with effect.
In the further progress of their voyage Anderton’s gentle and benignant nature so recommended him to Wilson, and he drew such comfort from the discourses, which that excellent instructor favoured him with, that, as his understanding opened, his spirits and his health improved, and he became as it were a new creature.
As they neared the land, the breeze freshened, and in the first of the morning they came to anchor in the port of Falmouth. Upon their landing, the attendants on the corpse lost no time in providing for its conveyance to Exeter, where fresh relays were to be had; and, when these arrangements were made, our hero and his friend, with young Williams only, set out for Kray Castle by the shortest road, and Anderton bent his course to London. The journey of these gentlemen was in all respects like the journeys, which other gentlemen take, except in novels, for the drivers and horses, whether good or bad, performed their stages, and their carriage was driven into the court of Kray Castle, nay, even up to the castle-door, without accident or adventure of any kind. The surprise of the old porter was such, that he took especial care, that every body within hearing should partake of it, and rang out an alarm so violent, that some cracked bells and some crazy towers would have resented it in a manner not very convenient for the puller of the rope, which provoked them to such clamorous exertion.
The family had not quitted the breakfast-room, for Mr. De Lancaster had engaged their attention to a dissertation upon dreams, in consequence of a prediction, which David Ap Rees had ventured to enounce from his tripod, namely, that Mr. John De Lancaster was on his road, and would speedily arrive in safety; David having gone to bed with a full dose of soporifick metheglin, and been visited in his sleep with the vision of young John and his father alighting at the castle-gate safe and sound from the backs of two griffins, that had flown with them through the air. This he had imparted to his patron after his morning serenade, and that excellent person had entertained a very good opinion of the prophecy, though he had some hesitation to admit the vehicle of the griffins: Upon this circumstance he commenced a learned dissertation upon dreams, holding at nought Mr. Locke’s notion of their being made up of the waking man’s thoughts, and substituting an opinion of his own, which took up so much time in explanation, and grew to be so entirely unintelligible by his mode of explaining it, that when the turret bell sounded out that terrible alarm, old Morgan started and cried out amain—What the devil is coming to us now? That horrid bell has waked me out of a comfortable nap, in which I was dreaming of—