"Sir A---- B----, the judge who presided at the trial, sir," replied the secretary, "informs me, that it was lucky he did make his escape, alleging that he would have been hanged to a certainty, before evidence of his innocence could have been procured. So that your majesty has, at all events, saved a good officer."
"Always a great gain, sir," replied the personage whom he addressed; "and if that was the case, Captain Delaware did very right. Always stay in the ship till the very last moment, but don't go down with her, if you can help it."
With these observations the pardon was signed, and dispatched to the country town where the young sailor was still confined. Being set at liberty, he immediately took his way on foot toward the village of Emberton, where so many of our scenes have been laid. It was by this time winter, and a hard frost rendered the road firm and dry, so that Walter Harrison, though greatly debilitated, walked on better than might have been expected. Night, however, had fallen ere he reached Emberton; and glad he was that darkness hid him from the cold and abhorrent eyes he must otherwise have encountered in the streets. But what tongue could tell the many painful and thrilling memories that were awakened in his bosom by every spot, as he passed through his native town, and saw again all the scenes of youth and innocence--as he marked the various resorts of his boyish hours, and felt that a night, far darker than that through which he wandered, had fallen over his life forever.
At the door of his mother's cottage garden he paused, and gazed wistfully over the house, with feelings that would scarcely let him enter the gate. There was a light, however, within; and his step over the gravel of the footpath had instantly caught the mother's unerring ear--the light moved--the door was thrown open--and the worn and weary lad, weighed down with sin, and sickness, and sorrow, was pressed in his mother's arms, and his cold cheek bathed in her tears!
It was long ere either could speak, and for nearly half an hour the young sailor sat gazing upon the fire, while thick recollections of all the past held him dull and voiceless. All the time his mother stood by his side, and fixed her eyes upon him, tracing every line that remorse had written, and every hue that sickness had spread over his face; but at length she laid her hand upon his arm, and said, "Walter, my beloved boy, we must go hence. You must not stay in this hateful place, which has seen our ruin, our poverty, and our shame. We must go across the sea, and I will lead you to a place that you will like to see."
"You forget, mother! You forget!" said the youth, with a deep sigh; "people travel not without money; neither can they live without it in foreign countries, more than here. I am sure you do not think that I am going to take the reward the people offered me, for giving up the murderers.--No, no! I will not take a price for their blood!"
"I would not have you, Walter!" cried his mother, eagerly. "I would not have you touch it with the tip of a finger, if they offered you a world of gold on such an account. But fear not, my boy, I have the means. Look here--what I received but yesterday--two hundred golden sovereigns, and this kind letter; and this deed of annuity to you and me, for one hundred pounds a year, as long as either of us live, charged upon the estates of Mr. Henry Beauchamp."
"God bless him!" said the youth, fervently. "God bless him!"
"God will bless him, my boy!" replied the widow. "God will bless him and make him happy, I am sure; for if ever there was a friend to the friendless, it is Mr. Beauchamp. Only three days after the trial he sent me this;" and she put into her son's hands a letter, in which Henry Beauchamp explained to her that the young sailor, having been severely wounded in turning away a pistol which had been directed toward his head, he was not only bound, but pleased to make him a return, which would place him above temptation from poverty.
Beauchamp, who hated that any one should feel he was conferring an obligation upon them, added many a reason to show that he was rather pleasing himself than loading them with benefits; and, as he read, the young sailor shook his head with the first smile that had curled his lip, for many weeks. "Ay!" he said, "he is a noble gentleman as ever lived; but he need not have said so much to make us take the money, mother; for if there is any body in the world I could be proud to take it from, it is from Mr. Beauchamp; and I declare, mother, if I get over it all, I will try all my life long to do nothing but what is right--just to show him that I am grateful."