"I stood some time in doubt what I should do. I questioned how I might be received by my old enemy, who had manifested to me so much malice, and whom I had been the occasion of banishing into slavery. But I thought, well, the transportation has been a lucky thing for him, and so I will venture. I went in at the lodge gate, a woman told me the family were at home. I advanced up a very fine gravel coach road, through the most beautiful woods, and came at length into an open lawn and fine flower-garden, where stood a grand white stone palace. 'Can this be the mansion of Welland of the Marlpool?' I said to myself. 'Can the collier have developed into a grandee like this, and through the chain-gang too?'
"But I ascended a fine flight of steps, and rang the bell. A servant in rich embroidered livery, and profusely powdered, came to the door. I inquired for Mr. Welland, and was shown into a noble library, where an old white-haired gentleman sat reading the papers. A magnificent Highland greyhound, here called the kangaroo hound, crouched on the superb Turkey carpet near his feet, and the spaces of the walls which were not covered with books were filled with fine paintings. The old gentleman politely rose, and bowing, begged me to take a seat on the opposite side of the magnificent marble mantelpiece.
"I was puzzled how to begin my reason for calling. I looked in the old gentleman's face, now calm and grave, and I was at a loss to determine whether I was not mistaken after all. I thought I could trace a likeness to the collier of the Marlpool, even amid that handsome suit of clothes, that delicately fine linen, and under that snowy hair, but—could it be? The old gentleman interrupted my speculations by mildly requesting that I would oblige him by stating why I honoured him with a call. I paused again for a moment. I grew still more confused, but I broke through my restraint by an effort, and said, 'Was I right in opining that Mr. Welland was a countryman of mine—from Derbyshire?'
"A cloud fell on his brow, and he replied, but coldly, 'I am from that county.'
"'Then,' said I, reassured, 'you will not have forgotten the name of Barnicott?'
"A flush passed over his features—a fierce one, it seemed to me. His eyes flashed, and he demanded, in a short, stern tone, what was the purport of my inquiry.
"'Because,' I said, 'I am that Luke Barnicott who was supposed to be drowned in Hillmarton dam.'
"As I said these words, the old gentleman gave me a startled look, turned unusually pale, and then springing towards me, seized my hands convulsively, and exclaimed, 'Thank God! what a weight you fling from my soul! Is it, can it be true, that you are that boy?'
"'I am he,' I said, 'and I have come six hundred miles to seek to make amends for the unintentional misfortune of causing you'—I hesitated to bring out the words of ignominy.
"'Of causing my transportation!' he said promptly. 'Thank God for that, now I know that I am not guilty of your death; but all these years I have borne in my soul the feeling that you were rotting in the bottom of that dam.'