“It is like you to say so. What of it?”
“The time came when you were in danger, and
I, in my turn, left my father and rode hard to save
you. I am not boasting, you understand, sir.
I am merely stating a fact. I rendered service
for service, like for like, did I not, sir?”
“You did, madam, and did it splendidly,”
said I.
“Then, sir, when we meet again,” she said,
and she was now speaking very clearly and sweetly,
looking me full in the eyes, potent in all her beauty
and queenliness, “when we meet again, we meet
on level terms.”
“Are you ready, lad?” called Master Freake.
“Coming, sir!” I cried, almost glad at
heart of the escape.
“One moment, Oliver!” said Margaret.
“So anxious to be rid of me? Nay, I jest
of course! I’ve a little present for you
here, Oliver. It will, I hope, make you think
of me at times.”
“It will not,” I replied, smiling.
“It will make me think oftener of you, that’s
all.”
She handed me the box, and we walked up to the boat.
The half-moon was bright in an unclouded sky, and
it showed me tears on Margaret’s cheeks, as
I bent to clasp and kiss her hand. Then I said
good-bye to Master Freake and Dot, and was helped into
the boat.
So we parted, and I set my face toward the New World.
For ten weary months there is nothing to be said that
belongs of right and necessity to my story.
Except this: The first thing I did when I was
alone in my cabin on the good ship, the “Merchant
of London,” was to open Margaret’s box.
It contained a full supply of books wherefrom to learn
“the only language one can love in,” and
on the fly-leaf of a sumptuous “Dante”
she had written, “From Margaret to Oliver.”
I SETTLE MY ACCOUNT WITH MY LORD BROCTON
Of how I fared the seas with Jonadab Kilroot, master
of the stolid barque, “Merchant of London,”
I say nothing, or as good as nothing. Master
Kilroot was a noisy, bulky man, with a whiff of the
tar-barrel ever about him and a heart as stout as
a ship’s biscuit. He feared God always,
and drubbed his men whenever it was necessary; in
his estimation the office of sea-captain was the most
important under heaven, and Master John Freake the
greatest man on earth.
The ship remained at anchor in Dublin harbour while
tailors and tradesmen of all sorts fitted me out,
for Master Freake had given me guineas enough for
a horse-load. I did very well, for Dublin is a
vice-regal city, with a Parliament of its own and
reasonable society, so that the modes and fashions
are not more than a year or so behind London, which
did not matter to a man going to the Americas.
