By Conduct and Courage: A Story of the Days of Nelson

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER XIX

  CONCLUSION

  Will's first visit, after arriving in London, was to Dulwich. He hadvisited the house with Mr. Palethorpe when it was in progress of building,and had been favourably impressed with it, but now that it was complete hethought it was one of the prettiest houses that he had ever seen. Thegreat conservatory was full of plants and shrubs, which he recognized asnatives of Jamaica, and the garden was brilliant with bright flowers.

  "I am delighted to see you again, Will," Mr. Palethorpe said, as he wasshown in. "Alice is out at present, but she will be back before long. Imust congratulate you on your promotion, which I saw in the _Gazette_ thismorning."

  "Yes, sir, my good fortune sticks to me, except for this wound, and it isnothing serious and will soon be right again."

  "Don't say good fortune, lad. You have won your way by conduct andcourage, and you have a right to be proud of your position. I believe youare the youngest captain in the service, and that without a shadow ofprivate interest to push you on. I am very glad to hear that your wound isso slight."

  "You are not looking well, sir," Will said, after they had chatted for atime.

  "No, I have had a shock which, I am ashamed to say, I have allowed toannoy me. I came home with L70,000. Of that I invested L40,000 in goodsecurities, and allowed the rest to remain in my agent's hands until hecame upon some good and safe security. Well, I was away with Alice in thecountry when he wrote to me to say that he strongly recommended me to buya South Sea stock which everyone was running after, and which was risingrapidly. I must own that it seemed a good thing, so I told him to buy.Well, it went up like wildfire, and I could have sold out at four timesthe price at which I bought. At last I wrote to him to realize, and hereplied that it had suddenly fallen a bit, and recommending me to waittill it went up again, which it was sure to do. I didn't see a Londonpaper for some days, and when I did get one I found, to my horror, thatthe bubble had burst, and that the stock was virtually not worth the paperon which it was printed. The blow has affected me a good deal. I admit nowthat it was foolish, and feel it so; but when a man has been working allhis life, it is hard to see nearly half of the fortune he has gained sweptaway at a blow."

  "It is hard, sir, very hard. Still, it was fortunate that you had alreadyinvested L40,000 in good securities. After all, with this house andL40,000 you will really not so very much miss the sum you have lost."

  "That is exactly what I tell myself, Will. Still, you know, a dog with twobones in his mouth will growl if he loses one of them. NeverthelessL40,000 is not to be despised by any means, and I shall have plenty togive my little Alice a good portion when she marries."

  "That will be comfortable for her, sir, but I should say that the manwould be lucky if he got her without a shilling."

  "Well, well, we'll see, we'll see. I have no desire to part with her yet."

  "That I can well understand, sir."

  "Ah, here she is!"

  A rosy colour spread over the girl's face when she saw who her father'svisitor was.

  "I expected you in a day or two," she said, "but not so soon as this. Whenwe saw your name in the _Gazette_ we made sure that it would not be longbefore you paid us a visit. I am glad to see that your wound has notpulled you down much."

  "No indeed. I am all right; but it was certain that I should come herefirst of all."

  "And what are your plans now?" Mr. Palethorpe asked.

  "I am going to set to work at once to discover my family. I have not beento my lawyer yet, so I don't know how much he has done, but I certainlymean to go into the business in earnest."

  "Well, it doesn't matter to you much now, Will, whether your family aredukes or beggars. You can stand on your own feet as a captain in the royalnavy with a magnificent record of services."

  "Yes, I see that, sir; but still I certainly do wish to be able to provethat I come of at least a respectable family. I have not the least desireto obtain any rank or anything of that kind, only to know that I havepeople of my own."

  "I do not say that it is not a laudable ambition, but I don't believe thatanyone would think one scrap better or worse of you were you to find thatyou were heir to a dukedom."

  Will slept there that night, and the next morning drove into the city tohis lawyer's office. "Well, Captain Gilmore?" said that gentleman as Willentered his private room. "I am glad to see you. I have been quietly atwork making enquiries since you were last here. I sent a man down toScarcombe some months ago. He learned as much as he could there, and sincethen has been going from village to village and has traced your father'sjourneyings for some months. Now that you are home I should suggestemploying two or three men to continue the search and to find out ifpossible the point from which your father started his wanderings.Assuming, as I do, that he was the son of Sir Ralph Gilmore, I imaginethat he must have quarrelled with his father at or about the time of hismarriage. In that case he would probably come up to London. I haveobserved that most men who quarrel with their parents take that stepfirst. There, perhaps, he endeavoured to obtain employment. The strugglewould probably last two, or three, or four years. I take the last to bethe most likely period, for by that time you would be about three yearsold. I say that because he could hardly have taken you with him had youbeen younger.

  "It is evident that he had either no hope of being reconciled to hisfather or that he was himself too angry to make advances. I thereforepropose to send men north from London to enquire upon all the principalroads. A man with a violin and a little child cannot have been altogetherforgotten in the villages in which he stopped, and I hope to be able totrace his way up to Yorkshire. Again, I should employ one of the BowStreet runners to make enquiries in London for a man with his wife andchild who lived here so many years ago, and whose name was Gilmore. I amsupposing, you see, that that was his real name, and not one that he hadassumed. I confess I have my doubts about it. A man who quits his home forever after a desperate quarrel is as likely as not to change his name.That of course we must risk. While these enquiries are being made I shouldlike you to go back to your old home; it is possible that other mementoesof his stay there may have escaped the memory of the old people with whomyou lived. Anything of that kind would be of inestimable value."

  "I will go down," Will said. "I am afraid there is little chance of myfinding them both alive now. I fancy they were about fifty-five when Iwent to live with them, which would make them near eighty now. One orother of them, however, may be alive. I have not been to my agent yet, andtherefore do not know whether he still sends them the allowance I madethem."

  After leaving the lawyer he went to his agent and found that the allowancewas still paid, and regularly acknowledged by a receipt from theclergyman. He supposed, therefore, that certainly one, if not both, of theold people were still alive. He went back to Dulwich and said that he hadtaken a seat on the north coach for that day week. "I could not bringmyself to leave before," he said, "and I knew you would keep me."

  "Certainly, my boy. I don't think either Alice or myself would forgive youwere you to run away the moment you returned."

  When the time came Will started for the north, though he felt muchreluctance to leave Alice. He acknowledged now to himself that he wasdeeply in love with her. Though from her father's manner he felt that whenhe asked for her hand he would not be refused, about Alice herself he feltfar less confident. She was so perfectly open and natural with him that hefeared lest she might regard him rather as a brother than as a lover, andyet the blush which he had noticed when he first met her on his returngave him considerable hope.

  On arriving at Scarborough he stopped for the night at the house of hisold friend Mrs. Archer. She and her husband listened with surprise andpleasure to his stories of his adventures in spite of his assurances thatthese were very ordinary matters, and that it was chiefly by luck that hehad got on. He was a little surprised when, in reply to this, Mrs. Archerused the very words Mr. Palethor
pe had uttered. "It is of no use yourtalking in that way, Will," she said. "No doubt you have had very goodfortune, but your rapid promotion can only be due to your conduct andcourage."

  "I may have conducted myself well," he said warmly, "but not one bitbetter than other officers in the service. I really owe my success to thefortunate suggestion of mine as to the best method of attacking thatpirate hold. As a reward for this the admiral gave me the command of_L'Agile_, and so, piece by piece, it has grown. But it was to my goodfortune in making that suggestion, which really was not made in earnest,but only in reply to the challenge of another midshipman, that it has allcome about. Above all, Mrs. Archer, I shall never forget that it was thekindness you showed me, and the pains you took in my education, that gaveme my start in life."

  The next day he drove over to Scarcombe, and to his pleasure, on enteringthe cottage, found John and his wife both sitting just where he had lastseen them. They both rose to greet him.

  "Thank God, Will," John said, "that we have been spared to see you aliveagain! I was afraid that our call might come before you returned."

  "Why, father, I don't think you look a year older than you did when I lastsaw you. Both you and mother look good for another ten years yet."

  "If we do, Will, it will be thanks to the good food you have provided forus. We live like lords; meat every day for dinner, and fish for breakfastand supper. I should not feel right if I didn't have a snack of fish everyday. Then we have ale for dinner and supper. There is no one in thevillage who lives as we do. When we first began we both felt downrightfat. Then we agreed that if we went on like that we never could live tillyou came back, so we did with a little less, and as you see we both fillout our clothes a long way better than we did when you were here last."

  "Well you certainly do both look uncommonly well, father."

  "And you ain't married yet, Will?"

  "No, I've not done anything about that yet, though perhaps it won't bevery long before I find a wife. I am not going to apply to go on serviceagain for a time, so I'll have a chance to look round, though I reallyhave one in my mind's eye."

  "Tell us all about it, Will," the old woman said eagerly; "you know howinterested we must be in anything that affects you."

  "Well, mother, among the many adventures I have been through I must tellyou the one connected with this young lady."

  He then told her of his first meeting, of his stay at her father's house,and of the hurricane which they experienced together.

  "Well, mother, I met her again unexpectedly more than two and a half yearsago in London. Her father had come over here to live, and has a fine houseat Dulwich. I have just been staying there for a week, and I have somehope that when I ask her she will consent to be my wife."

  "Of course she will," the old woman said quite indignantly. "How could shedo otherwise? Why, if you were to ask the king's daughter I am sure shewould take you. Here you are, one of the king's captains, have done allsorts of wonderful things, and have beaten his enemies all over the world,and you are as straight and good-looking a young gentleman as anyone wantsto see. No one, who was not out of her mind, could think of saying 'No' toyou."

  "Ah, mother, you are prejudiced! To you I am a sort of swan that has comeout of a duck's egg."

  They chatted for some time, and then Will said:

  "Are you quite sure, John, that the bundle the clergyman handed over to mecontained every single thing my father left behind him?"

  "Well, now I think of it, Will, there is something else. I neverremembered it at the time, but when my old woman was sweeping a cobweb offthe rafters the other day she said: 'Why, here is Will's father's fiddle',and, sure enough, there it was. It had been up there from the day you cameinto the house, and if we noticed it none of us ever gave it a thought."

  "I remember it now," Will exclaimed. "When I was a young boy I used tothink I should like to learn to play on it, and I spoke to Miss Wardenabout it. But she said I had better stick to my lessons, and then as Igrew up I could learn it if I still had a fancy to do so."

  He got on to a chair, and took it from the rafter on which it had so longlain. Then he carefully wiped the dust off it.

  "It looks a very old thing, but that makes no difference in its value tome. I don't see in the least how this can be any clue whatever to myfather's identity. Still, I will take it away with me and show it to mylawyer, who is endeavouring to trace for me who my father was."

  "And do you think that he will succeed, Will?"

  "I rather believe he will. At any rate he has found a gentleman, abaronet, who has the same name and bears the same coat of arms as is onthe seal which was in my father's bundle. We are trying now to trace howmy father came down here, and where he lived before he started. You see Imust get as clear a story as I can before I go to see this gentleman.Mind, I don't want anything from him. He may be as rich as a lord foranything I care, and may refuse to have anything to do with me, but I wantto find out to what family I really belong."

  "He must be a bad lot," John said, "to allow your father to tramp aboutthe country with a fiddle."

  "I would not say that," Will said; "there are always two sides to a story,and we know nothing of my father's reasons for leaving home. It may havebeen his fault more than his father's, so until I know the rights andwrongs of the case I will form no judgment whatever."

  "That is right, my boy," the old woman said. "I have noticed that when aboy runs away from home and goes to sea it is as often his fault as hisfather's. Sometimes it is six of one and half a dozen of the other;sometimes the father is a brute, but more often the son is a scamp, aworthless fellow, who will settle down to nothing, and brings discredit onhis family. So you are quite right, Will, not to form any hard judgment onyour grandfather till you know how it all came about."

  "I certainly don't mean to, mother. Of course I have so littlerecollection of my father that it would not worry me much if I found thatit were his fault, though of course I would rather know that he was not toblame. Still, I should wish to like my grandfather if I could, and if Iheard that my poor father was really entirely to blame I should not grievemuch over it."

  "I can't help thinking that he was to blame, Will. He was acurious-looking man, with a very bitter expression at times on his face,as if he didn't care for anyone in the world, except perhaps yourself, andhe often left you alone in the village when he went and wandered about byhimself on the moor."

  "Well, well," Will said, "it matters very little to me which way it is. Itis a very old story now, and I dare say that there were faults on bothsides."

  Will spent a long day with the old people and then returned toScarborough, taking the violin with him. When he told how he had found itMr. Archer took the instrument and examined it carefully.

  "I think really," he said at last, "that this violin may prove a valuableclue, as valuable almost as that coat of arms. That might very well havebeen picked up or bought for a trifle at a pawnshop, or come into thehands of its possessor in some accidental way. But this is different;this, unless I am greatly mistaken, is a real Amati, and therefore worthat least a couple of hundred guineas. That could hardly have comeaccidentally into the hands of a wandering musician; it must be a relic ofa time when he was in very different circumstances, and may well have beenhis before he left the home of his childhood."

  "Thank you very much for the information, Mr. Archer! I see at once thatit may very well be a strong link in the chain."

  Two days later he returned to London. Mr. Palethorpe was greatly pleasedto hear that he had found so valuable a clue.

  "I don't care a rap for family," he said, "but at the same time I supposeevery man would like his daughter--" Here he stopped abruptly. "I mean tosay," he said, "would like to have for his son-in-law a man of goodfamily. I grant that it is a very stupid prejudice, still I suppose it isa general one. You told me, I think, that your lawyer had found out thatthis Sir Ralph Gilmore had only two sons, and that one of them had diedsuddenly and unmarried."


  "That is so, sir."

  "Then in that case, you see, if you prove your identity you wouldcertainly be heir to the baronetcy."

  "I suppose so, sir. I have never given the matter any thought. It is notrank I want, but family. Still, I might not be heir to the baronetcy, foreven supposing that my father was really the other son, he might have hadchildren older than I am who remained with their grandfather."

  "That is possible," Mr. Palethorpe said, "though unlikely. Why should hehave left them behind him when he went out into the world?"

  "He might not have wished to bother himself with them; he might haveintended to claim them later. No one can say."

  "Well, on the whole, I should say that your chance of coming into thebaronetcy is distinctly good. It would look well, you know--Captain SirWilliam Gilmore, R.N."

  "We mustn't count our chickens too soon, Mr. Palethorpe," Will laughed;"but nevertheless I do think that the prospects are favourable. Still, Imust wait the result of the search that my lawyer has been carrying on."

  "Well, you know my house is your home as long as you like to use it."

  "Thank you, sir! but I don't like to intrude upon your kindness too much,and I think that I will take a lodging somewhere in the West End, so thatI may be within easy reach of you here."

  "Well, it must be as you like, lad. In some respects, perhaps, it will bebest so. I may remind you, my boy, that it is not always wise for twoyoung people to be constantly in each other's society." And he laughed.

  Will made no answer; he had decided to defer putting the question untilhis claim was settled one way or the other.

  In a few days he again called upon his lawyer.

  "I have found out enough," the latter said, "to be certain that yourfather started from London with his violin and you, a child of three. Ihave considerable hopes that we shall, ere long, get a clue to the placewhere he lived while in London. The runner has met a woman who remembersdistinctly such a man and a sick wife and child lodging in the house of afriend of hers. The friend has moved away and she has lost sight of her,but she knows some people with whom the woman was intimate, and throughthem we hope to find out where she lives."

  "That is good news indeed," Will said. "I had hardly hoped that you wouldbe so successful."

  "It is a great piece of luck," the lawyer said. "I have written to myother agents to come home. It will be quite sufficient to prove that hejourneyed as a wandering musician for at least fifty miles from London. Ofcourse if further evidence is necessary they can resume their search."

  "I have found a clue too, sir," Will said; and he then related thediscovery of the Amati, the possession of which showed that the minstrelmust at one time have been in wealthy circumstances.

  "That is important indeed," the lawyer said, rubbing his hands. "Now, sir,if we can but find out where the man lived in London I think the chainwill be complete, especially if he was in comparatively good circumstanceswhen he went there. The woman will also, doubtless, be able to give adescription of his wife as well of himself, and with these various proofsin your hand I think you may safely go down and see Sir Ralph Gilmore,whom I shall, of course, prepare by letter for your visit."

  Four days afterwards Will received a letter by an office-boy from hislawyer asking him to call.

  "My dear sir," he said as Will entered, "I congratulate you most heartily.I think we have the chain complete now. The day before yesterday the BowStreet runner came in to say that he had found the woman, and that she wasnow living out at Highgate. Yesterday I sent my clerk up to see her, andthis is his report. I may tell you that nothing could possibly be moresatisfactory."

  The document was as follows:

  "I called on Mrs. Giles. She is a respectable person who lets her house inlodgings. Twenty-five years ago she had a house in Westminster, and letthe drawing-room floor to a gentleman of the name of Gilmore. He wasrather tall and dark, and very variable in his temper. He had his wifewith him, and two months afterwards a child was born. It was christened atSt. Matthew's. I was its god-mother, as they seemed to have very fewfriends in the town. Mr. Gilmore was out a good deal looking foremployment. He used to write of an evening, and I think made money by it.He was very fond of his violin. Sometimes it was soft music he played, butif he was in a bad temper he would make it shriek and cry out, and I usedto think there was a devil shut up in it. It was awful! When he came to mehe had plenty of money, but it was not long before it began to run short,and they lived very plain. He had all sorts of things, whips and books anddressing-cases. These gradually went, and a year after the child was bornthey moved upstairs, the rooms being cheaper for them. A year later theyoccupied one room. The wife fell ill, and the rent was often in arrears.He was getting very shabby in his dress too. The child was three years oldwhen its mother died. He sold all he had left to bury her decently, and ashe had no money to pay his arrears of rent, he gave me a silver-mountedlooking-glass, which I understood his mother had given him, and he said:'Don't you sell this, but keep it, and one day or other I will come backand redeem it.' "

  "This is the glass, sir," the lawyer said. "My clerk redeemed it aftertelling her that her lodger had died long ago. He went round to St.Matthew's Church and obtained the certificate of the child's baptism. So Ithink now, Mr. Gilmore, that we have all the evidence that can berequired. Mrs. Giles, on hearing that the child was alive, said she wouldbe happy to come forward and repeat what she had said to my clerk. Sheseemed very interested in the affair, and is evidently a kindlygood-hearted woman. I fancy the silver frame is of Italian workmanship,and will probably be recognized by your grandfather. At any rate, someonethere is sure to know it. Now I think you are in a position to go down andsee him, and if you wish I will write to him to-day. I shall not go intomatters at all, and shall merely say that the son of his son, Mr. WilliamGilmore, is coming down to have an interview with him, and is providedwith all necessary proofs of his birth."

  The next morning Will took the coach and went down to Radstock, inSomersetshire. He put up at the inn on his arrival, and next morning hireda gig and drove to the house of Sir Ralph Gilmore. It was a very finemansion standing in an extensive park.

  "Not a bad place by any means," Will said to himself; "I should certainlybe proud to bring Alice down here."

  He alighted at the entrance and sent in his name, and was immediatelyshown into the library, where a tall old man was sitting.

  "I understand, sir," he said stiffly, "that you claim to be the son of myson, William Gilmore?"

  "I do, sir, and I think the proofs I shall give you will satisfy you. Youwill understand, sir, please, before I do so, that I have no desirewhatever to make any claim upon you; I simply wished to be recognized as amember of your family."

  The old man looked him up and down, and then motioned him to take a seat.

  "And what has become of your father, supposing him to be your father?" heasked with an evident effort.

  "He died, sir, nearly twenty years ago."

  The old man was silent for some little time, and then he said: "And you,sir, what have you been doing since then? But first, in what circumstancesdid he die?"

  "In the very poorest. For the last two years of his life he earned hisliving and mine as a wandering fiddler."

  "And what became of you?"

  "I was brought up, sir, by a fisherman in the village in Yorkshire inwhich my father died."

  "Your manner of speech does not at all agree with that, sir," the old mansaid sharply.

  "No, sir," Will said quietly. "I had the good fortune to attract theinterest of the clergyman's daughter, and she was good enough to assist mein my education and urge me on to study."

  "And what is your trade or profession, sir?"

  "I have the honour, sir, to be post-captain in His Majesty's navy."

  "You a post-captain in His Majesty's navy!" the old man said scornfully."Do you think to take me in with such a tale as that? You might possiblybe a very junior lieutenant."

  "I am not surprised tha
t you think so, sir. Nevertheless I am indeed whatI say. My name appeared in the _Gazette_ a month ago."

  "I remember now," the baronet said, "there was a William Gilmore appointedto that rank. The name struck me as I glanced through the _Gazette_. I hadnoticed it before on several occasions, and I sighed as I thought tomyself how different must have been his career from that of my unfortunateson. Now, sir, I beg that you will let me see your proofs."

  "In the first place, sir, there is this seal with your armorial bearings,which was found upon him after his death. This is a looking-glass, onewhich I believe was given to him by his mother. This is the violin withwhich he earned his living."

  The old man stretched his hand out for the violin, with tears in his eyes.

  "I gave it to him," he said, "when he was eighteen. I thought it a greatpiece of extravagance at the time, but he had such a taste for music thatI thought he deserved the best instrument I could get. The looking-glass Ialso recognize, and of course the seal. Is there anything more, sir?"

  "This, sir, is the certificate of my baptism at St. Matthew's Church,Westminster. This is a statement of my lawyer's clerk, who interviewed thewoman in whose house my father and mother lived, and my mother died."

  The baronet took it and read it in silence.

  "I can produce also," Will went on, as the old man laid it down with asigh, "the evidence of the lady who educated me, and to whom I owe all thegood fortune that has befallen me. The old fisherman and his wife whobrought me up are still alive, though very old. I have means of obtainingabundant evidence from my shipmates in the various vessels in which I havesailed that I am the boy who left that village at the age of fifteen, andentered as a ship's boy in one of His Majesty's vessels."

  "And you are now--?" the baronet asked.

  "I am now twenty-three, sir."

  "And a captain?"

  "That is so, sir. I was made a midshipman before I had been three monthson board, partly because I saved the first lieutenant's life, and partlybecause I understood enough mathematics to take an observation. Of courseI served my time as a midshipman, and a year after passing I was made asecond lieutenant. By the death of my first lieutenant at the battle ofSt. Vincent I succeeded to his post, and obtained the rank of captain formy share in the battle of Camperdown. I received post rank the other daywhen, in command of the _Ethalion_, I brought the _Bellone_, a frigate ofAdmiral Bompart's fleet, a prize to Portsmouth."

  "Well, sir, your career has indeed been creditable and successful, and Iam proud to acknowledge, as my grandson and heir to my title, a younggentleman who has so greatly distinguished himself. For I do acknowledgeyou. The proofs you have given me leave no doubt in my mind whatever thatyou are the son of my second son. You were, of course, too young toremember whether he ever spoke to you of me."

  "Yes, sir. I was but five at the time of his death, and have but a veryfaint recollection of him."

  "Of course, of course," the baronet said; "it was a sad affair. Perhaps Iwas to blame to some extent, though I have never thought so. Your fatherwas, as doubtless you know, a second son. Although somewhat eccentric indisposition, and given to fits of passion, I had no serious occasion tocomplain of him until he went up to Oxford. There he got into a wild anddissipated set, and became the wildest and most dissipated among them. Hisgreat talent for music was his bane. He was continually asked out. Afterbeing two years up there, and costing me very large sums in paying hisdebts, he was sent down from the university. He would not turn his handsto anything, and went up to London with the idea of making his waysomehow. He made nothing but debts, got into various scandalous affairs,and dragged our name through the dust. At last he came home one day andcalmly informed me that he had married a woman in a rank of life beneathhim. She was, I believe, the daughter of a horse-dealer of very doubtfulcharacter. He also said that he wanted L1200 to enable him to start fair.I lost my temper and said that he should not have another pound from me.We had a desperate quarrel, and he left the house, taking with him all hisbelongings. It was four years before I took any steps to bring him back.Then his elder brother died, and on that I took every means to find himout. That he would ever be a credit to me I did not even dare to hope, butat least he could not be allowed to live in poverty. I advertised widelyand employed detectives for months, but all without result. I have longsince given up any hopes of ever seeing him again. I am glad, indeed, tofind that the title, at my death, will not go to a distant cousin, but tomy grandson, a gentleman in every way worthy of it. You are not married, Ihope?"

  "I am not married, sir; but I think, if you had asked the question, Ishould have replied that I was engaged, or rather had hopes of beingengaged soon."

  "Who is she?" the baronet asked quickly.

  "She is the only daughter of a successful West Indian planter, a man ofthe highest standing in the colony, who has now returned and settledhere."

  The baronet heaved a sigh of relief.

  "That is well," he said; "and considering that you have been all your lifeat sea, and have had no opportunity of making the acquaintance of ladiesof titled families, it is better than I could have expected. As I do notknow the procedure in these matters I had better consult my lawyer as tothe best way of using these relics and the proofs you have given me thatyou are my grandson. It may be that my recognition of you is sufficient,but it would be as well to make sure that at my death there will be noopposition to your succession. You will stop here for a day or two, Ihope, before going up to town to arrange the little affair you spoke of,and I think if your chances were good before, they will be still betternow that you are recognized as heir to a baronetcy and one of the finestestates in England."

  "I have never thought of that, sir. I have my profession and nearlyL40,000 of prize-money, which will enable us to live in great comfort; andindeed I anticipate that her father will wish us to reside with him, or,at any rate, that she shall do so while I am away on service."

  "I hope you will not think of remaining at sea. It would be monstrous fora man heir to L10,000 a year, besides very large accumulations, to beknocking about the world and running the risk of having his head taken offwith a round-shot every day. I earnestly entreat you not to dream of sucha thing."

  "I will think it over. I am fond of the sea, but shall certainly be fonderof my wife, and I feel that your wishes in the matter should weigh withme."

  "Well, I hope you will at least spend a portion of your time here. It willbe your future home, and it is well that you should acquaint yourself withyour duties. Besides, remember the years that I have been a lonely man."

  "I would rather not give a promise, but I shall certainly take your wishesinto consideration."

  "Well, I am content with that, my boy. You will stay here now a few days,I hope. I have so much to hear of your life, and of course I wish tobecome better acquainted with you."

  Will remained a week, during which time he made a great advance in thebaronet's affections, and the old man seemed to gain some years of life ashe walked in the garden and drove through the country with his young heir,whom he was delighted to introduce to everyone.

  When he returned to London he at once drove over to Dulwich.

  "Well, Will, what is the result of it all?" Mr. Palethorpe asked, for Willhad purposely abstained from going to their house after his last interviewwith his lawyer. "Alice has been imagining all sorts of things: that youhad been run over, or had run away with some girl."

  "Father! I never thought that for a moment," his daughter saidindignantly, "though I have been very anxious, for it is nearly afortnight since he was here."

  "I have done a good deal in the time," Will said. "I did not write to you,because I wanted to tell you. I am acknowledged as the grandson and heirto the title and estates of Sir Ralph Gilmore."

  Both gave an exclamation of pleasure.

  "And now," he said, taking her hand, "I only need one thing to complete myhappiness, and that is, that you will share my good fortune with me. May Ihope that it will be so?"<
br />
  "Certainly you may, Will. I think I have loved you ever since I was alittle girl, and acknowledge that my principal reason for inducing fatherto come to live in England was that I believed I should have more chanceof meeting you again here than in Jamaica."

  "I am heartily glad, too, that it is all settled," Mr. Palethorpe said. "Ihave seen it coming on ever since you met us the first time in London, andI may say that I have seen it with pleasure, for there is no one to whom Iwould sooner trust her happiness than you. Now I will leave you toyourselves."

  It need hardly be said that Alice was as anxious as Sir Ralph Gilmore thatWill should quit the navy, and he consequently yielded to theirentreaties. He wrote to his grandfather to tell him of his engagement, andthe baronet wrote back by return of post to Mr. Palethorpe, begging him tocome down with his daughter and Will for a time.

  "I only half know him at present," he said, "and as I understand that justat present he will not want to leave the young lady of his choice, youwill gladden an old man if you will all three come down to stay with me."

  Three months later the marriage took place from the house at Dulwich. SirRalph Gilmore came up for the ceremony, and the change that the threemonths had effected in him was extraordinary. He was the gayest of theparty.

  Among those present at the ceremony were also Will's two devoted friends,Dimchurch and Tom Stevens. The baronet was greatly pleased with theiraffection and pride in Will, and offered both good posts on the estate. Sonone of the comrades went to sea again.

  The baronet gave into Will's hands the entire management of the estate andhouse, so his death, seven years later, made practically no difference toWill's position. Will took to country pursuits, and became one of the mostpopular landlords in Somersetshire, while his wife was quite one of themost popular ladies in the county. Her father, up to the time of hisdeath, spent most of his time down there, and they used the house atDulwich as their abode when they stayed in London during the season. Mrs.Archer came more than once to stay with them, as their most honouredguest. Stevens and Dimchurch both married. The former becamehead-gamekeeper on the estate, a post in which he showed great talent. Thelatter took a small cottage with a bit of land just outside the parkgates, for he was able to live very comfortably on the interest of hisprize-money. He had no children of his own, and his great pleasure was towander about with Will's, telling them of their father's adventures in thegreat war.

  It was not till well on in the sixties that Sir William Gilmore, captain,R.N., departed this life, a few weeks after the death of his wife, leavingbehind him a large family to carry on the old name.

  THE END