“Polly, you are my own true loving wife, and I am your live husband—your faithful Dick Burton!” exclaimed my father, for he it was in reality, as he came forward and took my mother in his arms.
“No wonder you thought me dead, Mary, and a long yarn I have to tell you, how it all happened. And is this young gentleman Ben, our Ben?” he asked, as he put his arm round my neck and kissed me on the brow. “I know it is; yet if I had not seen him here I should not have known him. Well, to see him a quarter-deck officer, and on the road to promotion, and you, Mary, alive and well, and as young looking as ever, repays me for all I have gone through, and that’s no trifle.”
Now, most women under the trying circumstances I have described would have fainted away or gone into hysterics, but my mother did neither one nor the other. Perhaps we had to thank Mr Gillooly for saving her from such a result. My idea is the agitation which that worthy gentleman had put her into counteracted the effects which might have been produced, first from my sudden appearance, and then by the unlooked-for return of my father. I do not mean to say that she was not agitated, and was very nearly fainting, but she did not faint; indeed, her nerves stood the trial in a most wonderful manner. After I had been with my mother and my newly-found father for some time, I bethought me that I ought to go and pay my respects to Mrs Schank and to Miss Emily, who, my mother told me, was sitting with her; I therefore went to the drawing-room door, and, tapping, asked if I might enter.
“Come in,” said a sweet voice. The owner of the sweet voice started when she saw me, for she was evidently uncertain who I could be, while the old lady peered at me through her spectacles.
Emily, however, coming forward, put out her hand.
“How delightful! You are welcome back, Ben!” she exclaimed. “I mean Mr Burton. It is Mr Ben Burton, ma’am,” she said in a higher key, and turning to the old lady.
“Ah, Ben! You are grown indeed, and you are welcome, lad. You are always welcome,” she added after a minute, and made some inquiries of her son. “And you have come back in the very nick of time, for there is an Irish gentleman wants to marry your mother, and we do not like him, do we, Emily?”
“Oh! No, no,” said Emily, shaking her head; “it would never do.” This gave me the opportunity of saying that Mr Gillooly had taken his departure, and also that there was another very strong reason for my mother’s not marrying him—the return of my father. The old lady’s astonishment knew no bounds on hearing this. “And my girls are out! Dear me, they will be surprised when they come back. What a pity they should not have been here. It is a mercy your mother did not faint away altogether. And he is actually in the next room. Your father, who has been killed so many years!”
“They thought he was killed, ma’am,” exclaimed Emily. “He could not have been killed or he would not be here!”
“No! To be sure! To be sure!” said the old lady. “That is very clear, and very wonderful it is; but if he had been killed it would be still more wonderful! Well, I am very glad he has come back.” After a little time I went back to my father and mother, and brought him in to see Mrs Schank and the Little Lady, both of whom welcomed him cordially. I inquired after Mrs Lindars.