"Get back, fellow! knock him over!" cried the exasperated Lieutenant.
"Not in my presence, George;" said Frederick;—"he entreats protection—if he deserve it, it ought to be granted: if he do not, we have no right to maltreat him." He pushed the boat off, and they were conveyed on board.
Captain Howard, the uncle of Frederick, was justly esteemed for the generosity of his disposition; his heart, indeed, was the seat of philanthropy, and never did the indigent or unhappy sue in vain. On being informed by his nephew of his conduct to the stranger, he expressed his approbation, at the same time desiring to see him. The youth was accordingly summoned. He entered the cabin with a modest bow, and, to the Captain's interrogation of who he was? answered—One brought up in expectation of a better fate; till an adverse stroke of fortune had bereaved him of all his early prospects of happiness.
"Do you belong to Yarmouth, young man?" asked the Captain.
"No, sir, I come from Caermarthen."
"Ha—what—Caermarthen! Tell me, who is your father?—what is your name?"
"I have not a father," sighed the youth, "My name is—(he faltered as he spoke it)—Henry St. Ledger."
The animated hope expressed in the countenance of the Captain, suffered a momentary depression on hearing the name of the youth; but returned with redoubled glow as he repeated—"You have not a father!—Oh God!—How did you lose him?—When did he die?"
"About two years since," replied St. Ledger, dashing a tear from his cheek.
The Captain's agitation increased. "Are you certain he was your father? Did no obscurity,—no secrecy, attend your birth?" "Neither, sir; my birth was honourable; welcomed with joy: though I, alas! was decreed by heaven to experience the bitterest misery."