He began by asking the pastor a great many questions about different places in the neighbourhood, and the people (several of whose names he knew) who used to live there; and seemed very much interested in all he heard. He then inquired whether there were still living any descendants of the former pastor, a Mr Buchman. "So far as I know, there are none," replied the pastor, "indeed, I understand he had only one son, a regular scapegrace, who left home a long time ago, and has never been heard of since." "It must be nearly forty years since Pastor Buchman lived here," he added, "perhaps you remember him?"
"Indeed I do," said the captain, "I remember him well, for he was my father, and I am no other than the only son you spoke of!"
"Is it possible?" cried the worthy man, a little disconcerted; "are you indeed that very young man, of whose wilful character I have heard so many speak? Forgive me, my friend, for having spoken of you as a scapegrace. How could I imagine that you, who as a boy were so wild and disobedient, would have become a quiet and pious man, as you seem to me to be." "Yes, thank God," said the captain in a voice trembling with emotion, "He has at length, after many hard trials and severe chastisements, shown me the error of my ways, and guided my feet into the way of peace. But pray excuse my speaking more on this subject just now. I could scarcely relate all the details of my long story to-night, and, fatigued as I am, it would be too much for me; indeed, as it is, the idea of passing the night under your roof almost overcomes me; for this is the very house that I was born in, and here, too, my parents both died."
Notwithstanding his anxiety to hear a full account of the extraordinary events in the life of his guest, the worthy pastor considerately forebore to touch on the subject again during the evening. As to the children, they did not cease to pay the greatest attention, hoping to hear, at least, something interesting, but in vain. The captain sat buried in thought, and during the short time before supper scarcely spoke a word. Directly after supper, the pastor read a chapter from the Bible, and made a short evening prayer, and then the children had to go to bed. This seemed to them a greater hardship to-night than it had ever done before, and they could not help thinking, as they went up-stairs, that perhaps the captain might relate his adventures after they had gone, and so they should miss hearing them. They kept all these thoughts to themselves, however, for they were good, obedient children, and went to bed without murmuring.
After they had left the room, the captain still refrained from speaking on the subject of his travels, only telling the pastor of his intention of spending the rest of his life in his native village, if he could find a suitable house, either to rent or buy. His host heard this resolution with pleasure, and told him that there was a neat, comfortable cottage, close by his own parsonage, which was for sale; it had belonged to a forester who had died about six months ago, and would, he thought, be very likely to suit him. They continued talking on various subjects for some little time, till the pastor's wife reminded them that it was past ten o'clock. Upon this they went up to bed; but for nearly an hour afterwards the pastor heard his guest, who slept in an adjoining room, walking up and down, and occasionally praying in a loud voice. After a time, however, all was silent, and peaceful sleep closed the labours of the day.
The next morning the two children were the first down-stairs. They had always been accustomed to get up early, and little Willie, when only four years old, once said to his father, "Isn't it a shame, papa, to let the sun get up before we do? He must be more tired than we are, for he has such a long way to go every day." Their father usually employed the first part of the morning in taking them both out for a walk, either up the mountains, or in the fields, or perhaps into the forest, where they would gather ferns or flowers, and get him to tell them their names. But to-day they seemed so anxious to hear the captain's adventures, that they did not like to go out far, for fear they might miss some opportunity of hearing his story; and they could scarcely contain their joy when their mother told them that he was not going to leave Dornbach (that was the name of the village), but was going to live at the forester's house.
In a retired country village like Dornbach, where everything went on from one week's end to another in the same quiet manner, it was rarely indeed that anything occurred to furnish the villagers with a new topic of conversation, and every traveller who stopped at the road-side inn, if it were only to bait his horse, created quite a sensation. If the stranger should happen to get into conversation with any one, for the next three days at least every one in the place would be talking about him. This was specially the case now when the report was spread that the captain of a ship had arrived at the parsonage, not for a passing visit, but with the intention of settling in the neighbourhood; and when it was further reported that this old captain was no other than the much talked-of son of the late Pastor Buchman, well remembered by the older inhabitants as the scapegrace, the excitement of the good people of Dornbach was immense. This was now the subject of everybody's conversation. The people all seemed to have forgotten their ordinary occupations; everywhere they were to be seen gathered together in groups, talking about the news of the day, of which, however, as yet they knew very little.
"Oh yes, I have seen him," said old Hannah; "I saw him yesterday, when he first came to the village."
"Is he not very rich?" asked another.
"Of course he is," said Frau Margaret; "how can he be otherwise, if he is really the captain of a ship? I'm sure he must have a million of money."