A FAREWELL.
It was a fortnight before Digby was well enough to leave his room, and then he had to be carried in the strong arms of Howard and Martin. So weak—so utterly weak was he—that the strong man had become as a little babe, and Dr. Henderson sometimes feared that he would never know health again.
But he was bright and cheerful and happy. The joy he experienced in finding so many dear ones around him, the relief in having unburdened his mind, and being assured of a full and complete forgiveness; the feeling of gratitude for the glad changes which had come to his father and mother, and for his own happy deliverance from death, made him think and talk so cheerily, that Ethel's heart rejoiced as she found in the long-lost one more than her old ideal Digby.
Howard and Martin had exceeded the time of their leave from business duties, but, in the circumstances of the case, they had been allowed longer furlough, and were now waiting for the time when Digby would be well enough to travel, so that they might superintend his journey home.
And the last day of the Shetland visit came. It was with a feeling of sadness that our friends went round on the afternoon of that day to call upon the cottagers and leave their little presents and say farewell.
Not the least memorable event of the visit, was the gathering of the villagers in the large room of the cottage, where our friends had taken up their abode. It was the last night in Shetland, and it had been Digby's earnest wish that, if he could bear it, the Hughsons and their friends, and as many as were saved from the death-stricken ship, should meet together to say farewell. Early in the evening, the villagers, in their best Sunday clothes, began to assemble, and, before very long, the room and the passage-way and the stair-way were crowded.
Dr. Henderson was there, too, and he reminded the folks present that time was flying, and that the strength of his patients must not be taxed too far. Then Mr. Morton rose. His face was very pale, and at first his voice was tremulous.
"Good people all," he said, "a kind Providence brought me and mine to this friendly island, and here we have seen and heard strange and happy things. Curious circumstances have brought us all together; and, in greater or less degree, we have been dependent upon one another; we have shared suspense, joy and anxiety together; and we have received mercies from the Great Father of us all more than we can trust our lips to tell. You, my good sir," pointing to old Mr. Hughson, "have received from the jaws of death two of your sons. Heaven bless them! You," pointing to a woman, "once more rest in the love of a husband; you, my little ones, are rejoicing in a father's return; and I—I have received safe and sound, my only son, whom I had long mourned as dead. Let us thank God, all of us."
A fervent amen was uttered as if by one voice.
After this, with chat and with song, time stole away, and the happy meeting would have been continued for an indefinite time, if Dr. Henderson had not announced it as his opinion that it would be neither wise nor kind to prolong it. And so with benedictions upon one another the company separated, and the next morning our friends left the island.