*CHAPTER XLVI*
*SUNSHINE AFTER STORM*
The morning after we had waved our farewell to Hector saw us safe in theIsle of Man. Here, through the kindness of the skipper of the_Sea-mew_, we found a lodging until such time as he could arrange for usa passage to England on some barque that was sailing thither. Two dayslater we were on board the _Kitty-wake_, which carried us safely to theport of Liverpool. On the outskirts of the town, in the little villageof Walton, in a cottage behind the old church we found a lodging withthe good woman to whom the master of the _Kitty-wake_ had commended us.
Now that I was back in England I determined to seek a reconciliationwith my uncle and guardian. With some trepidation I wrote him a lettertelling him of all that had befallen me, asking his pardon for theanxiety I must have caused him, and craving permission to bring my wifeto see him in the old home. It was a hard letter to write, hard andperplexing, and when it was completed I was far from satisfied with it.But Mary, who helped me with wise words, assured me that unless hisheart were of adamant it would melt him. So I dispatched it, and waitedanxiously for a reply. A fortnight passed, and there was no answer; butone morning when the third week was drawing to a close a post-boy onhorseback knocked loudly at the cottage door and I heard him ask: "DoesWalter de Brydde, Esquire, live here?" I rushed to the door andreceived the missive from his hand. "Four shillings to pay, sir," hesaid. Gladly I paid the fee, and gave him something wherewith to slakehis thirst at the nearest tavern. Raising the butt of his crop to hiscap, he dug his heels into the flanks of his horse and was off.
I hastened into Mary's room. The letter was heavily sealed with red waxand the superscription upon it was in writing that I did not know. Allexcitement, I broke the seal. The letter was from the firm of notarieswhich for generations had conducted the affairs of our family. Theybegged to inform me that my letter had been handed to them in theircapacity as notaries in charge of my uncle's affairs. They regretted toannounce that some seven months ago he and his lady had died of a feverwithin a few days of each other, the wife predeceasing her husband. Asmy uncle had died without issue, they had the honour to inform me thatthe estates passed to me as the next heir male. They noted withsatisfaction that I had taken unto myself a wife and they looked forwardwith pleasure to making the acquaintance of my lady at no distant date.They took the liberty of enclosing for my immediate necessities a draftupon their agents in Old Hall Street in the city of Liverpool, and theytrusted that as early as should be convenient to myself and my good ladywe would return to Warwick and take up our residence in the old manor.They ventured to hope that the long and amicable relations which hadexisted between my family and their firm would continue. They assuredme of their devoted services at all times, and they had the honour tosubscribe themselves my humble and obedient servants.
We read the surprising document with heads pressed close together,amazement fettering our tongues. Suddenly Mary drew away, and claspingher hands, exclaimed:
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" I said. "Why? The silly old man and his wife were nothing toyou."
"Oh no, it's no' that. I cam' to you a tocherless lass wi' naething togi'e ye but my love--and noo ye're rich."
"Sweetheart!" I cried: and dropping the letter with the draft upon thetable, I took her in my arms and drew her towards me. "Your love ismore to me than all the riches of the Spanish Main. Gold is but dross:love is of God, and eternal."
She slipped an arm about my neck, and laid her head upon my shoulder.
"Ye can kiss me," she said--and added roguishly as she smiled at me--"ifye like."
So it came to pass that within a fortnight of receiving the letter wearrived at Warwick, making the journey, as became our state, in a hiredcarriage with postilions. The needle-women of Liverpool had done theirwork well, and as I looked at the dainty figure, all frills andfurbelows, beside me in the carriage I almost felt that I had lost theMary I had learned to love at Daldowie. But the light in the pools ofher eyes, the aureole above her forehead, and the smile on herbewitching face as she said, "Now, behave yersel'. Ye maunna crush mynew goon," told me it was Mary still.
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