‘Uncle would have me break with Tom. So would aunt. Tom is first with me after my God.’
He clapped his hands and hurrahed like a boy.
‘Can I see him?’
‘Not for another three months.’
He struck his knee with his fist and smothered a sea oath.
This sort of talk, however, was no very cheery welcome on my part to the poor lad; so I presently got him to tell me about his voyage and how he liked the sea, and when he was again to sail, and I then gave him five pounds which I had put aside for him; his father, though a hospitable man, kept Will a little short. I wished the boy, after his long months at sea, to pass a jolly holiday, and told him when he kissed and thanked me, that another five should be his when that was spent.
‘We’ll go a-rambling again, Marian,’ said he. ‘Those were fine times. You’re white with trouble, and some of those milk and buttercup trips we used to take will do you good.’
I sighed and made no answer. He went to Tom’s miniature and stood looking at it; then began to talk again with eagerness and enthusiasm about my scheme of following my sweetheart.
‘And why shouldn’t you go?’ said he, pacing the room. ‘You’re alone in the world, and Tom’s first and everything to you. Father and mother won’t like your going, and you’ll be sorry to leave them, but they’re not your parents. Tom’s all in all. If I loved a girl as you love Tom she’d be all in all to me, and I’d follow her whilst a stick lasted, till the plank grew as thin as a sailor’s shirt. But there’s this in my mind, Marian—before you start in pursuit, you must know where Captain Butler has been sent to.’
‘He’ll know and tell me.’