Part 37 (1/2)
”My dear madam,” replied Montague, sorrowfully, ”you forget that I am not his judge. I have no right to weigh the circ.u.mstances of his case.
He is a convicted and self-acknowledged pirate. My only duty is to convey him to England and hand him over to the officers of justice. I sympathise with you, indeed I do, for you seem to take his case to heart very much, but I cannot help you. I _must_ do my duty. The _Foam_ will be ready for sea in a few days, in it I shall convey Gascoyne to England.”
”O Mr Montague, I do take his case to heart, as you say, and no one on this earth has more cause to do so. Will it interest you more in Gascoyne, and induce you to use your influence in his favour, if I tell you that--that--_he is my husband_?”
”Your husband!” cried Montague, springing up and pacing the apartment with rapid strides.
”Ay,” said Mrs Stuart, mournfully, covering her face with her hands; ”I had hoped that this secret would die with me and him, but in the hope that it may help, ever so little, to save his life, I have revealed it to you.”
”Believe me, the secret shall be safe in my keeping,” said Montague, tenderly, as he sat down again and drew his chair near to that of Mrs Stuart. ”But, alas! I do not see how it is possible for me to help your husband. I will use my utmost influence to mitigate his sentence, but I cannot, I _dare_ not set him free.”
The poor woman sat pale and motionless while the captain said this. She began to perceive that all hope was gone, and felt despair settling down on her heart.
”What will be his doom,” said she, in a husky voice, ”if his life is spared?”
”I do not know. At least I am not certain. My knowledge of criminal law is very slight, but I should suppose it would be transportation for--”
Montague hesitated, and could not find it in his heart to add the word ”life.”
Without uttering a word Mrs Stuart rose, and, staggering from the room, hastened with a quick unsteady step towards her own cottage.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
A PECULIAR CONFIDANT--MORE DIFFICULTIES, AND VARIOUS PLANS TO OVERCOME THEM.
When Alice Mason was a little child, there was a certain tree near her father's house to which, in her hours of sorrow, she was wont to run and tell it all the grief of her overflowing heart. She firmly believed that this tree heard and understood and sympathised with all that she said. There was a hole in the stem into which she was wont to pour her complaints, and when she had thus unburthened her heart to her silent confidant she felt comforted, as one feels when a human friend has shared one's sorrows.
When the child became older, and her sorrows were heavier and, perhaps, more real, her well-nurtured mind began to rise to a higher source for comfort. Habit and inclination led her indeed to the same tree, but when she kneeled upon its roots and leaned against its stem, she poured out her heart into the bosom of Him who is ever present, and who can be touched with a feeling of our infirmities.
Almost immediately after landing on the island Alice sought the umbrageous shelter of her old friend and favourite, and on her knees thanked G.o.d for restoring her to her father and her home.
To the same place the missionary directed his steps, for he knew it well, and doubtless expected to find his daughter there.
”Alice, dear, I have good news to tell you,” said the missionary, sitting down beside her.
”I know what it is!” cried Alice, eagerly.
”What do you think it is, my pet?”
”Gascoyne is to be forgiven! am I right?”
Mr Mason shook his head sadly--”No, that is not what I have to tell you. Poor fellow, I would that I had some good news to give you about him; but I fear there is no hope for him--I mean as regards his being pardoned by man.”
Alice sighed, and her face expressed the deepest tenderness and sympathy.
”Why do you take so great an interest in this man, dear?” said her father.
”Because Mary Stuart loves him, and I love Mary Stuart. And Corrie seemed to like him, too, since he has come to know him better. Besides, has he not saved my life, and Captain Montague's, and Corrie's? Corrie tells me that he is very sorry for the wicked things he has done, and he thinks that if his life is spared he will become a good man. Has he been very wicked, papa?”
”Yes, very wicked. He has robbed many people of their goods, and has burnt and sunk their vessels.”