“‘Twas said you were dead—that you had been slain in battle. How came you here? how have you escaped?”
“The story’s long, my sister. I’ll tell it to you presently. Enough; the squall has now blown over; and, d——n it—we shall all be happy once more.”
“No, no, no—I shall never know peace of mind. Would that I could be forgiven!” and tears rolled in fast succession down the poor wanderer’s cheeks.
“Forgiven!” exclaimed the sailor. “For what, Julia?—For being swindled by the false story of a betrayer; and afterwards, with more than woman’s love, clinging to the scoundrel who deceived you, until the grave closed upon his crimes.”
“I have indeed,” said the girl, with a sigh, “suffered for my offending. Oh, when I think of it, it almost maddens me! To have deserted my poor father, broken the old man’s heart, and by my misconduct brought him to the grave.” She paused, for sobs choked her utterance.
“You didn’t, God bless ye, break his heart,” exclaimed the sailor. “Had you run off a dozen times, he wouldn’t have mattered it a stranded rope-yarn. No, no, it was other disappointments that finished uncle Josh.”
“Finished uncle Josh?” inquired the wanderer.
“Ay; he’s gone to Davy’s locker, and the village has been quiet ever since. Three clients compromised their suits within one term; that killed our uncle, and Josh never raised his head afterwards.”
“No, no, William—my father—my dear, dear, father—” she made a pause, and then, in a suppressed voice, added, “Is he not dead too?”
“Dead!” replied the sailor. “He must have died since morning. I left him at a town ten miles off, while I came in pursuit of you, in company with a Bow-street officer, who was on another track, but offered to assist in your recovery.”