Great was the good man's delight with the improvement which he found had taken place on his little charge since his departure. She now spoke English fluently; had made rapid progress in her education; and gave promise of being more than ordinarily beautiful. Captain Clydesdale had the farther satisfaction of learning that she was a universal favourite—her gentle manners and affectionate disposition having endeared her to all.
On first casting eyes on her protector, after his return from South America, little Julia at once recognised him, flew towards him, flung her arms about his neck, and wept for joy—calling him, in muttered sounds, her father, her dear father. Deeply affected by the warmth of the grateful child's regard, Captain Clydesdale, with streaming eyes, took her up in his arms, hugged her to his bosom, and kissed her with all the fervour of parental love. Soon after, Captain Clydesdale again went to sea; and, by and by, again returned. Voyage after voyage followed, of various lengths; and, after the termination of each, the worthy man found his interesting protegée still advancing in the way of improvement, and still strengthening her hold on the affections of those around her.
Time thus passed on, until a period of nine years had slipped away; and when it had, Julia Elderslie—who now bore, and had all along, since her arrival in Scotland, borne, the name of Maria Clydesdale—was a blooming and highly accomplished girl of sixteen.
It was about this period that Captain Clydesdale began to think of retiring from the sea, and of settling at home for the remainder of his life. He was now upwards of sixty years of age, and found himself fast getting incompetent to the arduous duties of his profession. Fortunately, he was in a condition, as regarded circumstances, to enable him to effect the retirement he meditated. He was by no means rich; but, having never married, he had accumulated sufficient to live upon, for the few remaining years that might be vouchsafed him.
Part of Captain Clydesdale's little plan, on this occasion, was to rent or purchase a small house in the neighbourhood of the village of Fernlee, his native place, in the west of Scotland; to furnish it, and to take his adopted daughter to live with him as his housekeeper. All this was accordingly done; a house, a very pretty little cottage, with garden behind, and flower-plot in front, was taken, furnished, and occupied by Mr Clydesdale and his protegée. Here, for two years, they enjoyed all the happiness of which their position and circumstances were capable—and it was a happiness of a very enviable kind. No daughter, however deep her love, could have conducted herself towards her parent with more tenderness, or with more anxious solicitude for his ease and comfort, than did Maria Clydesdale towards her protector. Nor could any parent more sensibly feel, or more gratefully mark the affectionate attentions of a child, than did Captain Clydesdale those of his Maria.
He doated on her, and to such a degree, that he never felt happy when she was out of his sight.
More than satisfied with her lot, Maria sought no other scenes of enjoyment than those of her humble home; and coveted no other happiness than what she found in contributing to that of her benefactor.
Thus happily, then, flew two delightful years over the old man and his adopted child; and, wrapped up in their felicity, they dreamt not of reverses. But reverses came; Misfortune found her way even into their lonely retirement. Within one week, Captain Clydesdale received intelligence of the total loss of two vessels of which he was the principal owner, and in which nearly all that he was worth was invested. The blow was a severe and unexpected one, and affected the old man deeply. Not on his own account, as he told his Maria, with a tear standing in his eye, but on hers. "I had hoped," he said, "to leave you in independence—an humble one indeed, but more than sufficient to place you far beyond the reach of want. But now——" And the old man wrung his hands in exquisite agony of grief.
Infinitely more distressed by the sight of her benefactor's unhappiness than by the misfortune which occasioned it, Maria flung her arms about his neck, and said everything she could think of to assuage his grief and to reconcile him to what had happened. Amongst other things, she told him that the accomplishments which his generosity had put her in possession were more than sufficient to secure her an independence, or, at least, the means of living comfortably; and that she would immediately make them available for their common support.
"There are a number of wealthy families around us, my dear father," she said, "from which I have no doubt of obtaining ample employment. I can teach music, drawing, French, sewing, &c.; and will instantly make application to the various quarters where I am likely to succeed in turning them to account. Besides, father," she continued, "it is probable that we shall soon have some great family in Park House; and, in such case, I might calculate on obtaining some employment there—perhaps enough of itself to occupy all my time."