CHAPTER XVI

BRIGHT HOPES

It is not surprising that Laud, as he stood by the kitchen-fire, and scraped off the mud, a mixture of clay, weeds, and samphire, which were clotted upon his coarse trousers, should be considered by the tenants of that part of the house as a person worthy of all admiration. He had signalized himself in more than one pair of eyes. The master of the family and the head clerk had beheld his prowess, and had spoken most highly of him. They had given orders that whatever he required should be furnished for him. No wonder, then, that in Tom's, John's, or Sally's eyes, he should shine with such increased lustre. In Margaret's he was beheld with those feelings of love, and hope, and joy, which anticipated rapid improvement after long drawbacks, and she saw the object of her attachment at the most happy and propitious moment of her existence. The joy of that evening was unalloyed. Master William was recovering. The grateful father made Will and all his servants enjoy a hearty supper together, before they retired to rest, and took care the social glass was not wanting to make them as comfortable as possible.

The whole establishment sat around the well-spread table before a cheerfully blazing fire, and were descanting upon the dangers of the night and the perils which Mr. William must have encountered. At this moment the doctor entered.

His curiosity had been excited by the account he had heard of Will Laud. He easily distinguished that dark swarthy being, with his blue jacket, changed, by the drying of the mud upon it, to a kind of dun or fawn-colour. His black hair hung down over his shaggy brow with his long man-of-war pigtail; and his whiskers, scarcely distinguishable from his black beard, fulfilled the idea of the weather-beaten sailor which the doctor had previously entertained. He was fully satisfied in his own mind with what he saw. He came, he said, to report to Laud the state of his patient; and after asking him a few questions, and making some remarks upon his bravery, he wished them all a good-night, and returned to the parlour, to encounter the entertaining queries of the intelligent family at the Cliff.

His report brought them another visitor. The door again opened, and their mistress stood before her servants. They all rose as she entered, and Laud above the rest; but whether from the strangeness of his situation, or from the belief that the lady was about to speak to him, the moment that his eye met that intellectual and penetrating glance of inquiry, it became fixed upon the ground. The voice of thanks reached him, as well as the words of praise. If they did not gratify _him_, they did at least the heart of the poor girl who stood close by him. She looked in her mistress's face, and in her heart blessed her for her kindness.

"Can we be of any service to you, young man?" said the lady. "We are anxious to prove ourselves grateful to you: and in any way that you may claim our future service, you will find us ready to repay you. As an immediate help, Mr. Cobbold sends you this guinea, an earnest of some future recompense."

"Thank you, ma'am! Let Margaret have the guinea, and the thanks too; for she first discovered the young gentleman."

This was spoken by Laud without looking at the lady, or once lifting up his eyes. Was it timidity, or was it shame? Perhaps Laud had never been interrogated in the presence of a lady before that time.

He was truly relieved, when Mrs. Cobbold, hoping, as she said, that he had been well taken care of, and again thanking him for his assistance, wished him a good night's rest, and took her departure.

The opinion of the parlour was not so favourable to Laud as that of the kitchen, as the character of the bold smuggler was estimated very differently in each place. Mr. and Mrs. Cobbold, however, were not aware that Laud was in the British navy, having been seized in his boat by a pressgang, and been bound to serve his majesty three years on board the _Briton_ man-of-war, then cruising off the coast of Holland.

Such was the want of British seamen just at this period of the breaking-out of the long war, that many smugglers received not only their pardon, but good pay for joining the navy; and even those taken by the pressgang were only punished, if it may be termed so, by a three-years' well-paid service. Laud had been thus taken, and had been so well received on board, that his captain, on the night in question, had granted him permission to come up to Ipswich. He had offered him a crew, but Laud said he knew the river, and would rather go alone, if the captain would only lend him one of the small boats and a pair of oars. He had promised to be on board again the next day. The request was granted; for the captain was pleased with Laud's confession of his object in undertaking to go alone--so, in spite of wind and weather, ice and snow, he had rowed himself up the river Orwell as far as Nacton Creek.

These facts Will had already communicated to Margaret, who, rejoicing in his present honourable position, overlooked the dangers of a three-years' service in defence of his country. She felt more proud of his presence that night at the Cliff than she had ever before done since the day of his first entrance into her father's cottage. She did not indeed experience that thrilling warmth of devotion which she once felt when he visited her on the shores of Downham Reach; but love, through all its shocks, was much more firm and really hopeful than even at that enthusiastic period.

Though Margaret became acquainted with the fact of Laud's admission into the British navy, and he spoke openly in the kitchen of his ship and her commander, yet these things were unknown in the parlour, where, as has just been stated, his personal appearance and character stood at a heavy discount. In the kitchen he was a hero, in the parlour a desperado.

The doctor found Master William in a sound and apparently refreshing sleep; and retired to a couch prepared for himself in an adjoining room, in case his services might be required in the night. The servants soon after parted for their respective dormitories, and Laud took leave of Margaret for the night.

It is scarcely possible to believe that Margaret, after all her fatigues and anxieties, should have refused to retire to her room. She actually begged permission to sit up all night with Master William. Vain were all attempts at persuasion. She said she knew that if she went to bed she could not sleep, and as she begged so hard to be permitted to sit up, the request was granted.

Hope is a sweet comforter to an anxious heart, and presented a vision of future bliss to the wakeful spirit of the maid, which afforded her occupation for the night, presenting to her the prospect of days to come, when Laud should obtain an honourable discharge from his country's service, where he was now numbered among the bold, the brave, and the free, and in which the same Providence which had preserved him to perform the good act of that night would, she hoped, still preserve him for many more good deeds. In pleasant reflections the night passed away; nor was there one in that family who did not join in the general thanksgiving to God for the signal preservation of the youth, who was wrapped in a profound and refreshing sleep, watched by the ever-constant and faithful Margaret. The tempest of the night had swept along, and was succeeded by a calm and glorious sun-rising, which shone upon the glittering fields of snow. The fir-trees were weighed down with the weight of the ice and snow lodged upon their branches, whilst the beams of the sun made the drops of pendent icicles fall with a smart sound to the earth. The sailor came down from his bedroom refreshed after a sound sleep; and, after he had partaken of a hearty breakfast, he shook hands with all the servants, and took a more tender leave of Margaret: leaving his best wishes for the young gentleman, he returned to his boat some miles down the river, and thence to his ship.

He was gone before the Cliff party assembled at the breakfast-table, but he took with him the best prayers of all, and most especially those of the girl of his heart, for his future safety and prosperity.

Master William gradually recovered, and took warning from this narrow escape not to venture any more upon such dangerous excursions. Though fond of boating, he lost the zest for wild-fowl shooting, and left it for others to pursue who had not purchased experience at so dear a price.