"I said, 'Oh, yes! I once was through here, and I was but a lad then, and I heard an extraordinary story of a boy being killed by a collier, or drowned in a dam or something.'
"'Ay, drowned, sure enough!' said Mrs. Widdiwicket, or smothered and buried alive somewhere—he never was found—no, never.'
"I said I should take a walk and have some talk with you, for I was curious about such things, and I inquired the way here. Now, I wonder that Derby man never thought of telling somebody here about his having heard of me being alive and on shipboard; but such men, with their great mills and businesses, have so much to think of, they don't trouble their memories with such things."
"We never heard a rumour of such a thing," said poor old Beckey, who kept fast hold of Luke's hand, as if she could not be sure enough that she had him.
"And what made thee pretend to be another, Luke, when thou came here?" asked Beckey.
"Oh, granny! that was only to break it easy to you. I did not want to frighten you all at once with the news, when you thought me dead so long. That was all."
"Ah! that was good of thee, my Luke. 'And now, Lord, let me depart in peace, since my eyes have seen thy salvation;'" and the happy old woman again kissed her grandson, and shed some quiet tears.
"Luke! Luke!" she then said, "as soon as thou began to talk of Sally Flamstead, that's my Luke's voice, I said—it's him, it's him, and nobody else, for how should anybody else know all about those things? And dost ta know, Luke, Sally has not forgotten thee? She has aullis been kind to me, and often comes up with a bit or a sup, a nice pot of preserves, or a jug of cream, or a nice plate of pickelets; and she will bring her sewing, and sit and talk for hours, and she is sure to turn the subject to the time when you were children. She's never married, though she's as handsome a wench as any lady in all the country-side, and rich she is, and manages her farm like a man, for the old Flamsteads are dead; and as for followers and sweethearts, heaven love me! she has had them all, I think, dangling after her in their turns. Nay, there came a very fine gentleman from London here, and he offered to keep her a coach and settle a fine estate on her; but no, thank you, she would not have him. No, she'll never marry, Luke, unless thou marries her. She has often said, 'Luke would be a fine young fellow if he was alive, and a good fellow too. They say he was wild and mischievous, but he never was with me. No, he was always as good as pie, and would have jumped into a coal-pit to do me any kindness.'"
Luke said, "God bless her! I knew she was one in ten thousand, and if I were——," but here Amy, who was as full of the news of Luke's being alive and being come as an egg is of yolk, and had been out at the garden gate to catch the first person going down the field-path and let off her steam, came running out of breath, "Wist! wist! here is Miss Flamstead coming up the field with a little basket in her hand, and a nice white cloth on it. She's bringing you something nice, Missis Barnicott; don't let us say who the young gentleman is, and see what she will say. I warrant you she'll soon have an inkling of it."
Sally Flamstead was already in the garden. She came on lightly in her nice light muslin dress, and her pretty white bonnet with a red rose in it, and her little blue parasol dangling loosely in her left hand. But as soon as she saw the stranger she blushed, and coming forward timidly, she said, "Oh! Mrs. Barnicott, I did not know you had company." Her sweet face was all blushes and roses, but it was smiling and charming. Luke rose, took off his hat, and made her a polite bow. Sally returned a respectful curtsey, and going up to Mrs. Barnicott, kissed her, and sat down beside her. Poor old Beckey had hard work to contain herself. She trembled, and tears rushed from her blind eyes, and she kissed Miss Flamstead again and again. Luke and Amy stood; Luke gazing with a respectful but fascinated gaze on the smart young farmeress, and Amy looking nobody could tell how—half smiling a suppressed smile, and half curious, and fit to burst out with, "It's Luke, Miss Flamstead, it's Luke!"