My tendency, throughout this story, always has been to do this. But I really did begin to feel the need of abjuring this national fault, since men of a mixture of any sort, without even Celtic blood in them, over and over again had tried to make a mere nobody of me.
Hence it was, and not from any desire to advance myself, that among the inferior race, I stood upon my rights, and stuck to them. If ever there had been any drop of desire for money left in me, after perpetual purification (from seven years of getting only coppers, and finding most of them forgeries), this scene was alone sufficient to make me glad of an empty purse. For any man who has any money must long to put more to it; as the children pile their farthings, hoping how high they may go. I like to see both old and young full of schemes so noble; only they must let an ancient fellow like me keep out of them.
These superior senses glowed within me, and would not be set aside by any other rogue preceding me, when I knocked at Sir Philip’s door, and claimed first right of audience. The other fellows were all put away by the serving-men, as behoved them; then I carried in everything, just as it was, and presented the whole with the utmost deference.
Sir Philip had inkling of something important, and was beginning to shake now and then; nevertheless he acknowledged my entrance with his wonted dignity; signed to the footman to refresh the sperm-oil lamps in the long dark room; and then to me to come and spread my burden on a table. Nothing could more clearly show the self-command which a good man wins by wrestling long with adversity. For rumour had reached him that I had dug up his son’s cocked-hat, and his two grandchildren, all as fresh as the day itself. It is not for me (who have never been so deeply stirred in the grain of the heart by heaven’s visitations) to go through and make a show of this most noble and ancient gentleman’s doings, or feelings, or language even. A man of low station, like myself, would be loath to have this done to him, at many and many a time of his life; so (if I could even do it in the case of a man so far above me, and so far more deeply harrowed) instead of being proud of describing, I must only despise myself.
Enough to say that this snowy-haired, most simple yet stately gentleman, mixed the usual mixture of the things that weep and the things that laugh; which are the joint-stock of our nature, from the old Adam and the young one. What I mean—if I keep to facts—is, that he knelt on a strip of canvas laid at the end of the table, and after some trouble to place his elbows (because of the grit of the sandiness), bowed his white forehead and silvery hair, and the calm majesty of his face, over those two dollies, and over his son’s very best cocked-hat, and in silence wept thanksgiving to the great Father of everything.
“David Llewellyn,” he said, as he rose and approached me as if I were quite his equal; “allow me to take your hand, my friend. There are few men to whom I would sooner owe this great debt of gratitude than yourself, because you have sailed with my son so long. To you and your patience and sagacity, under the mercy of God, I owe the proof, or at any rate these tokens of my poor son’s innocence. I—I thank the Lord and you—”
Here the General for the moment could not say another word.
“It is true, your Worship,” I answered, “that none of your own people showed the sense or the courage to go on. But it is a Welshman’s honest pride to surpass all other races in valour and ability. I am no more than the very humblest of my ancestors may have been.”
“Then all of them must have been very fine fellows,” Sir Philip replied, with a twinkling glance. “But now I will beg of you one more favour. Carry all these things, just as they are, to the room of my son, Mr. Philip Bampfylde.”
At first I was so taken aback that I could only gaze at him. And then I began to think, and to see the reason of his asking it.
“I have asked you to do a strange thing, good David; if it is an unpleasant one, say so in your blunt sailor’s fashion.”
“Your honour,” I answered, with all the delicacy of my nature upwards; “say not another word. I will do it.”
For truly to speak it, if anything had been often a grief and a care to me, it was the bitterness of thinking of that Squire Philip deeply, and not knowing anything. The General bowed to me with a kindness none could take advantage of, and signalled me to collect my burden. Then he appointed me how to go, together with a very old and long-accustomed servitor. Himself would not come near his son, for fear of triumph over him.
After a long bit of tapping, and whispering, and the mystery servants always love to make of the simplest orders, I was shown with my arms well aching (for those wooden dolls were no joke, and the Captain’s hat weighed a stone at least, with all the sand in
