“You Dermot, you my son Dermot?” she exclaimed, looking at him. “Oh, how could I for a moment have been deceived?” She bent over him, and pressed many a kiss upon his brow. “Yes, those eyes, I know them now, and those features, too; I cannot again be deceived. No, no, see here is the sign by which I should have known him, even though he had been given back to me as I dreaded, a lifeless corpse. But my Dermot is alive, my Dermot has come back to me.” As she spoke she drew back the sleeve of his shirt, and there upon his arm she exhibited the blood-red cross with which her son had been born.
During this scene, the countenance of Lady Nora exhibited many changes; now a deadly pallor overspread her face, then again the rich blood rushed back from her heart. Still she kneeled by Captain Denham’s side. His strength gradually returned, and supported in the arms of the old fishwife, he sat up. His face was turned away from Nora, and his eyes rested on the features of the former. He took her hand between his.
“Mother,” he whispered, “I have been cruelly deceived. The only letter I received from my native land told me that you were dead, and from henceforth I felt the tie which had bound me to it was severed. Once I returned to it, and my fondest wish was to visit again the cottage where I was born, made sacred to me because it had been your dwelling. I was prevented from carrying out my intention, and from that day to this I have never had the opportunity of returning, but the life you have saved shall be henceforth devoted to watching over you, I have gained fame in my profession, and I prize it, but it is nothing compared to the joy of being restored to you. Oh, mother, I have loved you as a son should his parent who has loved him as you have done me.”
“Dermot, my boy, dear Dermot, I never doubted your love. I have always said that you were true and faithful, and now you have proved it; but, my son, I shall not long require your care. My days are numbered; but I knew that you would come back, and I was not deceived. My prayers were heard in spite of all the threats and curses of Father O’Rourke. Now I have pressed you to my heart once more, and when I have seen you strong and hearty, I shall be content to place my head under the green turf and sleep in peace.”
During this scene Lady Sophy and the lawyer had retired to the further end of the hut. Mr Finlayson had, in the meantime, suggested to Shane, that he might assist the seaman, who was earnestly inquiring for his captain.
“It is all right,” he exclaimed, when told that Captain Denham was doing well. “Heaven be praised that he is saved, when so many fine fellows have lost their lives. We were sadly short-handed on board the frigate, or I do not believe this would have happened; but the gale was cruelly against us. Are we the only ones who have escaped from the wreck?”
“I hope not,” answered Shane. “I saw a raft drifting towards the bay with several people on her, and many more may have been washed on shore on planks and spars.”
“Then we should be up, and go and help them,” exclaimed Ned Davis, endeavouring to haul on his wet jacket. “Are we to let our shipmates perish and lie here idle? It is not what the captain would have thought of; and if he had not been wounded he would have been up now, and looking out to help them.”
This was the first intimation Mr Finlayson had that Captain Denham was wounded.
“Why, that must be looked to,” he observed. “Really, I do not think he can be attended to properly in this hut. We must manage to get a litter of some sort to carry him to the castle.”