Great was the sorrow the good-hearted fellow expressed, when I told him of Dalzell's disappointment. He swore he would find Grace Douglas, if she were above ground; and that he would leave no means untried, as long as he had health and strength to persevere.
"Well, but how did you lose your arm, Tom?"
"Oh, your honour, it was in that 'ere action with the Flower-de-louce. We were blazing away at each other as hard as we could lather, and I had jumped into the main-chains to do something I was ordered, when, crack! a musket-ball strikes me on the arm, and I fell overboard as helpless as a sucking-pig; and I'd have gone down like a pig of lead, if Leaftennan Dalzell hadn't banged overboard after me, and supported me to the rudder chains, where we hung till they gave us a rope. Long life to him! says I—I lost my arm, but I got a pension, and we both on us got lots o' prize money."
At this point of Tom's yarn, Mr Dalzell called to me through the window—
"Here are some young visiters coming, Mr Thomson."
I looked out, and replied—
"Oh, they are my two boys. I forgot to tell you that I am a father as well as a husband. The little fellows have been with their nurse, spending the forenoon at my sister's—the house you see there, through the trees. Let us go and meet them."
And out we all sallied, Tom bringing up the rear. As we approached them, the nurse, who was talking and playing with the children, looked up, and, seeing Dalzell, uttered a faint scream, and turned deadly pale.
"Holloa!" said I, hurrying towards her; "what is the matter with the girl?"
My companion, however, was beforehand with me. He rushed past me, caught her in his arms, and, calling her his "dear, dear Grace," kissed her pale cheek till the blood mantled rosy red upon it again; while she murmured, "Dear Edward, then you have not forgot your Grace?"