“Well, Billy, as my goodman has known you since you were a baby, and I’ve known you nearly as long, I suppose I must overlook it this time,” answered Mrs Ogle. “And now tell me, how is my husband, and Pringle, and the rest?”
“Ogle and Pringle are very well; but Abel Bush has had an ugly knock on his side. It will grieve poor Mrs Bush, I know, when I tell her. He’ll be here as soon as he is out of hospital; but he wants to be aboard again when the ship is ready for sea.”
Good Mrs Ogle, on hearing this, said that she would go in and prepare her neighbour for the news of Abel being wounded; and after she had done so, True Blue went and told her all the particulars, and comforted her to the best of his power; and then he hurried off to see old Mrs Pringle, who forgave him for not coming first to her, which he ought to have done.
The hours of True Blue’s short stay flew quickly by—quicker by far than he wished. Never had the country to his eyes looked so beautiful, the meadows so green, the woods so fresh, and the flowers so bright; never had the birds seemed to sing so sweetly; and never had he watched with so much pleasure the sheep feeding on the distant downs, or the cattle come trooping in to their homesteads in the evening.
“After all, Mary,” he said, “I really do think there are more things on shore worth looking at than I once fancied. Once I used to think that the sea was the only place fit for a man to live on, and now, though I don’t like it less than I did, I do love the look of this place at all events.”
Mary smiled. They were sitting on a mossy bank on the hillside, with green fields before them and a wood on the right, in which the leaves were bursting forth fresh and bright, and a wide piece of water some hundred yards below, in which several wild fowl were dipping their wings; while beyond rose a range of smooth downs, the intermediate space being sprinkled over with neat farmhouses and labourers’ cottages; and rising above the trees appeared the grey, ivy-covered tower of the parish church, with the taper spire pointing upwards to the clear blue sky—not more clear or bright, though, than his Mary’s eyes; so True Blue thought, whether he said it or not.
“Yes,” said Mary; “I am sure, True Blue, when you come to know more of dear Old England, you’ll love it as I do.”
“I love it now, Mary—that I do, and everything in it for your sake, Mary, and its own sake!” exclaimed True Blue enthusiastically. “I used to think only of fighting for the King, God bless him; but now, though I won’t fight the less for him than I did, I’ll fight for Old England, and for you too, Mary; and not the worse either, because I shall be thinking of you, and of how I shall hope some day to come and live on shore with you, and perhaps go no more to sea.”
Mary returned the pressure of his honest hand, and in the wide realms of England no two people were happier than they were; for they were faithful, guileless, and true, honest and virtuous, and no shadow cast by a thought of future misfortune crossed their path.
Thus the days sped on. Then a letter came from Sir Henry, saying that he had obtained another fortnight’s leave for True Blue; and the different families looked forward to a visit from the three warrant-officers of the Gannet, and felt how proud they should be at seeing them in their uniforms. Abel Bush was so far recovered that he was expected in a day or two.