Michael Penguyne | Page 4

my own dear wife, I thought, to break the news to her.
"As I reached my own door I heard a child's cry; it was that of my little Nelly, and granny's voice trying to soothe her.
"I peeped in at the window. There sat granny, with the child on her knee, but my wife was not there. She has gone to market, I thought. Still my heart sank within me. I gained courage to go in.
"`Where is Nelly?' I asked, as granny, with the baby in her arms, rose to meet me.
"`Here is the only Nelly you have got, my poor Paul,' she said, giving me the child.
"I felt as if my heart would break. I could not bring myself to ask how or when my wife had died. Granny told me, however, for she knew it must be told, and the sooner it was over the better. She had been taken with a fever soon after I had left home.
"It was long before I recovered myself.
"`I must go and tell the sad news I bring to poor Mary,' I said.
"Granny shook her head.
"`She is very bad, it will go well-nigh to kill her outright,' she observed.
"I would have got granny to go, but I wanted to tell your poor mother of my promise to your father, and, though it made my heartache, I determined to go myself.
"I found her, with you by her side.
"`Here is father,' you cried out, but your mother looked up, and seemed to know in a moment what had happened.
"`Where is Michael?' she asked.
"`You know, Mary, your husband and I promised to look after each other's children, if one was taken and the other left; and I mean to keep my promise to look after you and your little boy.'
"Your mother knew, by what I said, that your father was gone.
"`God's will be done,' she murmured; `He knows what is best--I hope soon to be with him.'
"Before the month was out we carried your poor mother to her grave, and I took you to live with granny and Nelly.
"There, Michael, you know all I can tell you about yourself. I have had hard times now and then, but I have done my duty to you; and I say again, Michael, you have always been a good and dutiful boy, and not a fault have I had to find with you."
"Thank you, father, for saying that; and you will still let me call you father, for I cannot bring myself to believe that I am not really your son."
"That I will, Michael; a son you have always been to me, and my son I wish you to remain. And, Michael, as I have watched over you, so I want you to watch over my little Nelly. Should I be called away, be a brother and true friend to her, for I know not to what dangers she may be exposed. Granny is old, and her years on earth may be few, and when she is gone, Michael, Nelly will have no one to look to but you. She has no kith nor kin, that I know of, able or willing to take care of her. Her mother's brother and only sister went to Australia years ago, and no news has ever come of them since, and my brothers found their graves in the deep sea, so that Nelly will be alone in the world. That is the only thing that troubles me, and often makes me feel sad when we are away at night, and the wind blows strong and the sea runs high, and I think of the many I have known who have lost their lives in stouter boats than mine. But God is merciful; He has promised to take care of the widow and orphan, and He will keep His word. I know that, and so I again look up and try to drive all mistrustful thoughts of His goodness from my mind."
"Father, while I have life I will take care of Nelly, and pray for her, and, if needs be, fight for her," exclaimed Michael.
He spoke earnestly and with all sincerity, for he intended, God willing, to keep his word.
CHAPTER TWO.
The fleet of fishing-boats as they approached the coast steered in different directions, some keeping towards Kynance and Landewednach, while Paul Trefusis shaped his course for Mullyan Cove, towards the north, passing close round the lofty Gull Rock, which stands in solitary grandeur far away from the shore, braving the fierce waves as they roll in from the broad Atlantic.
Asparagus Island and Lion Rock opened out to view, while the red and green sides of the precipitous serpentine cliffs could now be distinguished, assuming various fantastic shapes: one shaped into a complete arch, another the form of a gigantic steeple, with several caves