The customary business was soon despatched, and the officer was leaving the vessel, but his eye lingered on the interesting stranger. There was something in his appearance that won his heart, and, after a moment’s hesitation he thus spoke.
“This seems to have been your place of destination, Mr. Egerton. Will you excuse the blunt freedom of an American, if I ask you to accompany me to the shore? My uncle’s dwelling is in sight. I act as his deputy in official business, but with much more pleasure I use another privilege, and tender you the hospitalities of his roof. Although the town, the principal object of your visit, is no more, yet if you can content yourself a few days with us, you can explore the ruins. Oakford is the name of my uncle. I bear the same, with the simple addition of Frank.”
The stranger caught his offered hand.
“I feel grateful for your kindness,—the ruins! did you say? It would indeed be a gratification to view them—I will, with pleasure, avail myself of your polite invitation; the ruins! are they extensive?”
“Oh, no,” replied young Oakford, smiling, “there are but few relics left by time and weather—some remains of walls and foundations—but the most interesting are the ruins of an ancient church—among whose dilapidated pews a respectable audience of weeds have accumulated.”
“Weeds, growing in the holy temple of my fathers! what a sublime yet sad subject for reflection! I must see them!”
The young American again smiled at his companion’s enthusiasm; and, as the shadows of evening were fast closing around them, he hurried his new friend in his preparations to leave the vessel. The good-natured captain declined an invitation to accompany them, as he had made arrangements to continue his voyage farther—and, cordially shaking the hand of his departing passenger, refused to receive any extra compensation for the trouble occasioned. The rough, but kind-hearted sailors also refused, but the generous feelings of the young man were not to be checked thus, and he forced into their unwilling hands the expression of his thanks, as he took a kind leave of them.
Darkness had veiled the landscape when the boat reached the shore, and the warm-hearted Marylander, drawing the arm of the young stranger within his, hurried him up the long avenue leading to the mansion, assuring him that his uncle would be as much gratified as himself by this acquisition to their society. “So, feel perfectly at ease, for we southerners use very little ceremony.”
The event proved it so, for Col. Oakford, a fine looking man, just past the meridian of life, received him with that easy politeness and frank cordiality of manner which relieved him from all embarrassment. He soon discovered that his guest possessed high literary attainments—and, enjoying those advantages himself, the conversation became interesting, and they parted at the hour of rest, mutually pleased with each other.
The next morning arose in clouds and rain. “No ruins to-day,” said the young Briton, as they met in the breakfast room. But, although the weather prevented any outward excursion, a well filled library offered a pleasing substitute.