"That you will not reject the orphan who was fostered by your father, and who reminds you of what he was, that you may not forget at this moment what I trust is the greatest bar to his presumption--his humble origin."

"Jacob, that was said like yourself--it was n.o.bly said; and if you were not born n.o.ble, you have true n.o.bility of mind. I will imitate your example. Have I not often, during our long friendship, told you that I loved you?"

"Yes, as a child you did, Sarah."

"Then, as a woman, I repeat it. And now are you satisfied?"

I took Sarah by the hand; she did not withdraw it, but allowed me to kiss it over and over again.

"But your father and mother, Sarah?"

"Would never have allowed our intimacy if they had not approved of it, Jacob, depend upon it. However, you may make yourself easy on that score by letting them know what has pa.s.sed; and then, I presume, you will be out of your misery."

Before the day was over I had spoken to Mrs Drummond, and requested her to open the business to her husband, as I really felt it more than I could dare to do. She smiled as her daughter hung upon her neck; and when I met Mr Drummond at dinner-time I was "out of my misery," for he shook me by the hand, and said, "You have made us all very happy, Jacob; for that girl appears determined either to marry you or not to marry at all. Come; dinner is ready."

I will leave the reader to imagine how happy I was, what pa.s.sed between Sarah and me in our _tete-a-tete_ of that evening, how unwilling I was to quit the house, and how I ordered a post-chaise to carry me home, because I was afraid to trust myself on that water on which the major part of my life had been safely pa.s.sed, lest any accident should happen to me and rob me of my antic.i.p.ated bliss. From that day I was as one of the family, and finding the distance too great, took up my abode at apartments contiguous to the house of Mr Drummond. But the course of other people's love did not run so smooth, and I must now return to Mary Stapleton and Tom Beazeley.

I had breakfasted, and was just about to take my wherry and go down to acquaint the old couple with the bad success of my application. I had been reflecting with grat.i.tude upon my own happiness in prospect, indulging in fond antic.i.p.ations, and then, reverting to the state in which I had left Mary Stapleton and Tom's father and mother, contrasting their misery with my joy, arising from the same source, when, who should rush into the dining-room but young Tom, dressed in nothing but a shirt and a pair of white trousers, covered with dust, and wan with fatigue and excitement.

"Good heavens! Tom! are you back? then you must have deserted."

"Very true," replied Tom, sinking on a chair, "I swam on sh.o.r.e last night, and have made from Portsmouth to here since eight o'clock. I hardly need say that I am done up. Let me have something to drink, Jacob, pray."

I went to the cellaret and brought him some wine, of which he drank off a tumbler eagerly. During this I was revolving in my mind the consequences which might arise from this hasty and imprudent step.

"Tom," said I, "do you know the consequences of desertion?"

"Yes," replied he, gloomily, "but I could not help it. Mary told me in her letter that she would do all I wished, would accompany me abroad; she made all the amends she could, poor girl! and, by heavens, I could not leave her; and when I found myself fairly under weigh, and there was no chance, I was almost mad; the wind baffled us at the Needles, and we anch.o.r.ed for the night; I slipped down the cable and swam on sh.o.r.e, and there's the whole story."

"But, Tom, you will certainly be recognised and taken up for a deserter."

"I must think of that," replied Tom; "I know the risk I run; but if you obtain my discharge, they may let me off."

I thought this was the best plan to proceed upon, and requesting Tom to keep quiet, I went to consult with Mr Wharncliffe. He agreed with me that it was Tom's only chance, and I pulled to his father's, to let them know what had occurred, and then went on to the Drummonds. When I returned home late in the evening the gardener told me that Tom had gone out and had not returned. My heart misgave me that he had gone to see Mary, and that some misfortune had occurred, and I went to bed with most anxious feelings. My forebodings were proved to be correct, for the next morning I was informed that old Stapleton wished to see me. He was ushered in, and as soon as he entered, he exclaimed, "All's up, Master Jacob--Tom's nabbed--Mary fit after fit--_human natur'_."

"Why, what _is_ the matter, Stapleton?"

"Why, it's just this--Tom desarts to come to Mary. Cause why?--he loves her--human natur'. That soldier chap comes in and sees Tom, clutches hold, and tries to take possession of him. Tom fights, knocks out sergeant's starboard eye, and tries to escape--human natur'. Soldiers come in, pick up sergeant, seize Tom, and carry him off. Mary cries, and screams, and faints--human natur'--poor girl can't keep her head up--two women with burnt feathers all night. Sad job, Mister Jacob. Of all the senses love's the worst, that's sartain--quite upset me, can't smoke my pipe this morning--Mary's tears quite put my pipe out,"--and old Stapleton looked as if he was ready to cry himself.

"This is a sad business, Stapleton," replied I. "Tom will be tried for desertion, and G.o.d knows how it will end. I will try all I can; but they have been very strict lately."

"Hope you will, Mister Jacob. Mary will die, that's sartain. I'm more afraid that Tom will. If one does, t'other will. I know the girl--just like her mother, never could carry her helm amidships, hard a port, or hard a starboard. She's mad now to follow him--will go to Maidstone. I take her as soon as I go back to her. Just come up to tell you all about it."

"This is a gloomy affair, Stapleton."

"Yes, for sartain--wish there never was such a thing as _human natur'_."

After a little conversation, and a supply of money, which I knew would be acceptable, Stapleton went away, leaving, me in no very happy state of mind. My regard for Tom was excessive, and his situation one of peculiar danger. Again I repaired to Mr Wharncliffe for advice, and he readily interested himself most warmly.

"This is, indeed, an awkward business," said he, "and will require more interest than I am afraid that I command. If not condemned to death, he will be sentenced to such a flogging as will break him down in spirit as well as in body, and sink him into an early grave. Death were preferable of the two. Lose no time, Mr Faithful, in going down to Maidstone, and seeing the colonel commanding the depot. I will go to the Horse Guards, and see what is to be done."

I wrote a hurried note to Sarah to account for my absence, and sent for post-horses. Early in the afternoon I arrived at Maidstone, and finding out the residence of the officer commanding the depot, sent up my card.

In few words I stated to him the reason of my calling upon him.

"It will rest altogether with the Horse Guards, Mr Faithful, and I am afraid I can give you but little hope. His Royal Highness has expressed his determination to punish the next deserter with the utmost severity of the law. His leniency on that point has been very injurious to the service, and he _must do it_. Besides, there is an aggravation of the offence in his attack upon the sergeant, who has irrecoverably lost his eye."

"The sergeant first made him drunk, and then persuaded him to enlist."

I then stated the rivalship that subsisted between them, and continued, "Is it not disgraceful to enlist men in that way--can that be called voluntary service?"

"All very true," replied the officer, "but still expediency winks at even more. I do not attempt to defend the system, but we must have soldiers. The seamen are impressed by force, the soldiers are entrapped by other means, even more discreditable: the only excuse is expediency, or, if you like it better, necessity. All I can promise you, sir, is, to allow the prisoner every comfort which his situation will permit, and every advantage at his court-martial, which mercy, tempered by justice, will warrant."

"I thank you, sir; will you allow me and his betrothed to see him?"

"Most certainly; the order shall be given forthwith."

I thanked the officer for his kindness, and took my leave.

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

READ IT.

I hastened to the black hole where Tom was confined, and the order for my admission having arrived before me, I was permitted by the sergeant of the guard to pa.s.s the sentry. I found Tom sitting on a bench notching a stick with his knife, whistling a slow tune.

"This is kind, Jacob, but not more than I expected of you--I made sure that I should see you to-night or to-morrow morning. How's poor Mary?

I care only for her now--I am satisfied--she loves me, and--I knocked out the sergeant's eye--spoilt his wooing, at all events."

"But, Tom, are you aware of the danger in which you are placed?"

"Yes, Jacob, perfectly; I shall be tried by a court-martial and shot.

I've made up my mind to it--at all events, it's better than being hung like a dog, or being flogged to death like a n.i.g.g.e.r. I shall die like a gentleman, if I have never been one before, that's some comfort. Nay, I shall go out of the world with as much noise as if a battle had been fought, or a great man had died."

"How do you mean?"

"Why there'll be more than one _bullet-in_."

"This is no time for jesting, Tom."

"Not for you, Jacob, as a sincere friend, I grant; not for poor Mary, as a devoted girl; not for my poor father and mother--no, no," continued Tom. "I feel for them, but for myself I neither fear nor care. I have not done wrong--I was pressed against the law and Act of Parliament, and I deserted. I was enlisted when I was drunk and mad, and I deserted.

There is no disgrace to me; the disgrace is to the government which suffers such acts. If I am to be a victim, well and good--we can only die once."

"Very true, Tom; but you are young to die, and we must hope for the best."

"I have given up all hope, Jacob. I know the law will be put in force.

I shall die and go to another and a better world, as the parson says, where, at all events, there will be no muskets to clean, no drill, and none of your confounded pipe-clay, which has almost driven me mad. I should like to die in a blue jacket--in a red coat I will not, so I presume I shall go out of the world in my shirt, and that's more than I had when I came in."

"Mary and her father are coming down to you, Tom."

"I'm sorry for that, Jacob; it would be cruel not to see her--but she blames herself so much that I cannot bear to read her letters. But, Jacob, I will see her, to try if I can comfort her--but she must not stay; she must go back again till after the court-martial, and the sentence, and then--if she wishes to take her farewell, I suppose I must not refuse." A few tears dropped from his eyes as he said this.