instant to be Grace Goldie, though grown almost into a young woman. “It is Jack, I am sure it is,” she added, taking my hand and leading me forward. “Oh, how strange that you do not know him!”
My sisters now came about me, examining me with surprised looks. “How strange, Grace,” said one; “surely you must be mistaken?”
“No, I am sure I am not,” answered Grace, looking into my face, and putting back the hair from my forehead; “Are you not Jack?”
“Yes, I believe I am,” I answered, “though if you did not say so I should begin to doubt the fact, since Ann, and Mary, and Jane, do not seem to know me.”
“Well, I do believe it is Jack,” cried Jane, coming up and taking my other hand, though I was so dirty that she did not, I fancy, like to kiss me. “So he is—he must be!” cried the others; and now, in spite of my tattered dress, their sisterly affection got the better of all other considerations, and they threw their arms about me like kind girls as they really were, and I returned their salutes, in which Grace Goldie came in for a share, with long unaccustomed tears in my eyes. Just then a shriek of astonishment was heard, and there stood Aunt Martha at the door. “Who have you got there?” she exclaimed. “It’s Jack come back,” answered my sisters and Grace in chorus. “Jack come back! impossible!” cried out Aunt Martha, in what I thought sounded a tone of dismay. “Yes, I am Jack, I assure you,” I said, going up to her; “and I hope to be your very dutiful and affectionate nephew, whatever you may once have thought me;” and I took her hand and raised it to my lips. “If you are Jack I am glad to see you,” she said, her feelings softening; “and it will at all events be a comfort to your poor mother to know that you are not drowned.”
“My mother! where is she?” I asked. “I trust she is not ill.”
“Yes, she is, I am sorry to say, and up-stairs in bed,” replied my aunt; “but I’ll go and break the news to her, lest the sound of all this hubbub should reach her ears, and make her inquire what is the matter.”
I had now time to ask about the rest of my family. My father was out, but was soon expected home, and in the meantime, while Aunt Martha had gone to tell my mother, by my sisters’ advice I went into the bedroom of one of my brothers, and washed, and dressed myself in his clothes. By the time Aunt Martha came to look for me I was in a more presentable condition than when I entered the house.
I need not dwell on my interview with my mother. She had no doubts about my identity, but drawing me to her, kissed me again and again, as most mothers would do, I suspect, under similar circumstances. She was unwilling to let me go, but at length Aunt Martha, suggesting that I might be hungry, a fact that I could not deny, as I was almost ravenous, I quickly joined the merry party round the tea-table, when I astonished them not a little by the number of slices of ham and bread which I shortly devoured. My father soon arrived. He was not much given to sentiment, but he wrung my hand warmly, and his mind was evidently greatly relieved on finding that his plan for breaking me of my desire for a sea life had not ended by consigning me to a watery grave. He was considerably astonished, and evidently highly pleased, when I put into his hands the box and case which old Tom had given into my care; and I told him how I had fallen in, on board the Naiad, with the boy I fully believed to be Mr Clement Leslie’s heir.