ger from a young and most beautiful female. In that strange light they seemed not mortal. The old Commodore and Captain Oliphant were at the top of the stairs in an instant. The astonished old sailor was, for one single instant, so overcome, that he was only able to shout forth, "Save my children!" And then his boiling bosom striving for vent, instead of a monstrous oath, he roared out, "Néstroque." At this shout the obstinate Rebecca threw down the dagger, and flung herself into the arms of Augustus, crying, We are saved-I hear the battle-cry of our house -it is my father!" 66 That father, catching hold of Rubasore with his iron hook, hurled him backwards down the long flight of marble steps, then rushing over the burning floor, the fine old sailor caught his dear Becky in his arms, and, followed by Augustus, repassed in safety the flames; and, as he rushed down the staircase with his burden, no one thought of capturing the attending Augustus; but every soul, constables and Bow Street officers not excepted, took off their hats, and as they passed, rent the very roof with their huzzas. The father bore his daughter into the nearest room on the ground-floor. How fondly she clung to him-how rapturously he wept over her! Captain Oliphant and Mr. Underdown followed immediately with Rosa. "Here, Underdown," said the Commodore, "take this order from the secretary of state, and show it to the magistrate and thief-takers; clap buckets into their hands, and bid them put out the fire; man all the pumps in the house, and let them pass the water from hand to hand, man-of-war fashion, from the moat in the ha-ha-Noll will take care of that beauty. My ward, I presume. Gus, my boy, give your old uncle a buss; now rub the taste off your lips upon Rebecca's. Fine goings on, hey! O you sly rogues-and to think the old fellow didn't know all about it. Why, I was slaving my heart out for you, you rogues. Hoity, toity-why, how's this? Becky's a woman, by all that's glorious, and a glorious woman too! I left her a bonny child three months ago, and mark ye me now-there she stands -Master Augustus, Master Gus, clap a paul on the capstan?" "The Earl of Osmondale," said Rebecca, smiling through her tears, "Earl me no earls; was he not my nephew before he was an earl-an earl in petticoats and a brocaded farthingale-hum. Noll, lend him a suit of uniform." 66 'No, dear uncle; I'll put on any thing but that." "But, my dearest father, you forget that your house is on fire." "Well, suppose I do, hussy; ar'n't'I happy enough to forget any thing? O Becky, I should so like just one glass of cold rum-and-water!" The fire was extinguished. It is time to close this chapter; explanations are tedious things, and raptures read heavily. Blissful that night were the slumbers of every inmate at Trestletree Hall, CHAPTER XX. "To the reader who reads me to praise, JOHN DORY'S POEMS. Two days of almost unalloyed happiness followed. Augustus, however, spoke much, and thought more, of his mother, and a great deal was stated as to the manner in which his being still alive should be broken to her. The old Commodore pertinaciously refused to allow the young Earl to depart, insisting that, as he had preserved him, he had the best right to keep him. However, it was arranged on the third day, that Horace Underdown, who had been so often the maker and the messenger of peace, should be the bearer of the glad-tidings, and, as they knew that he would act with the utmost discretion, they all thought no arrangement could be better. This mission of charity was spared him. Lady Astell, poor, desolate woman, had been in a pitiable state of mind, and, under the mask of piety, in an incessant rebellion against Providence. She every month, grew more gloomy and more ascetic, conversing with none but her spiritual advisers, and selecting those from the most severe, and, may I add, without incurring blame, the most darkly superstitious of the priesthood. But, even in her retreat, the news of her brother's glorious victory reached her; and a reverend sectarian, having acquainted her that vanity fair was held daily at Trestletree Hall, she ordered forth her funeral-like equipage, and proceeded, as she deemed, for the sake of his soul's salvation, to throw the sinner down from his couch of fancied happiness. Mr. Underdown had just made his arrangements to depart, when the porter at the lodge announced that the dark equipage was coming. This excited a great sensation in all. Augustus felt so unnerved that he was forced to seat himself. The Commodore looked serious, but not disturbed. Indeed, a religious serenity pervaded his fea tures. The Commodore caused all his family, without exception, to be assembled, and placing himself in the centre, with Augustus on his right and Rebecca on his left, silently awaited the awful interview. The young lovers trembled excessively. Augustus promised not to speak until bidden by his uncle. The heavy black coach arrived at the door; every male-servant that the establishment could muster was arrayed in the hall to do her reverence, and the groom of the chambers preceded her with more respect than if she had been a queen. Dressed as before, in the deepest black, and the white band of lawn covering her forehead, she advanced with her usual stately step into the centre of the room, and fronted the old Commodore, who rose from his chair and bowed to her solemnly. Many hearts then beat tumultuously. She spoke not until she had taken the letter from her bosom. In doing this, her looks met those of Augustus, from whose eyes the tears were streaming plenteously. She pressed her hand to her bosom, and uttered a sharp cry, then rubbing her eyes, like one awaking from a dream, she shook her head mournfully and spoke. "I am here, the widow, and she whom you made childless." "Sister, you are most welcome," said the Commodore, gravely. "Here is my warrant;-murderer-my child!" "Agnes, I deprived you of one-I restore you two in return. Kneel to her, my children." "What is this-who is this youth?" for Augustus, kneeling before her, had already seized her hand, and, pressing it to his forehead, was bathing it with his tears. Agnes, it is Augustus, whom I restore to you." "And is it so? and are you even he-my son? Speak!” "Mother!" The word shot like electricity through her bosom. She fell into his arms, and wept. "Let us leave them for a space," said the brother. And they all walked forth, with the awe with which we should tread the sacred floor of the holy of holies, in the inner tabernacle. And was not the spirit of the Eternal there, doing his beneficent work with the long-bereaved mother and her restored child? There was a strange scene, that day, in the park of Trestletree Hall. Outriders, grooms, and footmen, in the deepest mourning, with white favours in their hats, and huge bunches of nosegays in their bosoms; and the horses, and the hearse-like coach, were driven full gallop through the park, all the way to Astell House: the men shouting and hallooing like so many boys broken loose from school. The coach, and black horses, and liveries, disappeared, as if by magic-they were never again seen in the county. Lady Astell, from a room to which she had retired, sent a sisterly letter to the old Commodore, telling him that she intended to reside some time with him. She did not make her appearance again until dinner-time; and then, how changed! She was dressed in pure white, and in her matronly cap she wore roses. She entered the saloon, supported, on either side, by her son and her niece. Without speaking one single word, she went up to her brother, and embraced him. What more shall I say? Her morbid illusions were dispelled. She was, perhaps, more supremely happy than any of the others, great as was their happiness. After dinner, the Commodore begged, as a great favour, that he might be allowed to smoke one pipe over his dessert and wine. The pipe was brought, filled, and duly rammed down with the stopper at the end of his arm. The wax candle was burning on the table, but he made no use of it. At length, he spoke, with a voice almost indistinct from emotion, thus" Agnes, dearest, haven't you some scrap of waste, useless paper, that you can give your poor old brother to light his pipe with?" "I had forgot-I had forgot," said Lady Agnes, in a troubled manner, drawing from her bosom the once terrible letter from Augustus. She, took it up, and twisted it carefully; then, rising from her seat, stooped over the old Commodore, and, kissing his forehead, lighted the paper. He took it from her hand, and, in lighting his pipe with it, he took the greatest care that every morsel of it should be burned; that was not enough: he rubbed the ashes of it into a fine powder, and bidding Rebecca sweep them up into the palm of his hand, he stepped out upon the lawn, and scattered them to the winds. He then returned to his pipe, which he smoked out with the sublimest self-satisfaction. I have but little to tell of the after life of this now united and happy family. It was some days before Peter Drivel would venture into the presence of the old Commodore. At last, his master, Captain Oliphant, compelled him to do so, and that, too, when all the family was assembled, and a large party also.. The moment Sir Octavius saw him, he pretended to be in his wonted passion, and to look round for something to fling at his head. The punning rascal!" he roared out, "and nothing to knock him down with." Peter made for the door, expecting nothing less than the poker to be ringing out the tune of "Down, derry down" upon his skull. But his master prevented his escape, whilst the old sailor, making a pretence of not being able to find any thing else, plucked forth from his waistcoat pocket a purse well filled with gold, and flung it, with a purposely bad aim, towards him. Pick it up!" roared Sir Octavius. |