Recollections of Geoffrey Hamlyn | Page 7

frantic efforts made by Godfrey
Buckley, in the "South Sea" scheme to retrieve the family fortunes, had
well nigh broke them. Year by year they saw acre after acre of the
broad lands depart, and yet Marmaduke Buckley lived in the home of
his ancestors, and the avenue was untouched by axe or saw.
He was a widower, with two sons, John and James. John had been to
sea from his earliest youth, and James had joined his regiment a year or
more. John had been doing the state good service under his beloved
Collingwood; and on the 19th October 1805, when Nelson and
Collingwood made tryst to meet at the gates of hell, John Buckley was
one of the immortals on the deck of the "Royal Sovereign." And when
the war fog rolled away to leeward, and Trafalgar was won, and all seas
were free, he lay dead in the cockpit, having lived just long enough to
comprehend the magnitude of the victory.
Brave old Marmaduke was walking up and down the terrace at Clere
uneasy and impatient. Beside him was the good old curate who had
educated both the boys, and wearily and oft they turned to watch down
the long vista of the ancient avenue for the groom, who had been
despatched to Portsmouth to gain some tidings of the lieutenant. They
had heard of the victory, and, in their simple way, had praised God for
it, drinking a bottle of the rarest old wine to his Majesty's health and the
confusion of his enemies, before they knew whether they themselves
were among the number of the mourners. And now, as they paced the
terrace, every moment they grew more anxious and uneasy for the long
delayed intelligence.
Some trifle took them into the flower-garden, and, when they came
back, their hearts leapt up, for the messenger was there dismounted,
opening the gate. The curate ran down the steps, and taking a

black-edged letter from the sorrowful groom, gave it into the trembling
hands of the old man with a choking sob. He opened it and glanced
over it, and then, throwing it towards his friend, walked steadily up the
steps, and disappeared within the dark porch.
It was just three hasty lines from the great Collingwood himself. That
brave heart, in the midst of the din of victory, had found time to scrawl
a word to his old schoolmate, and tell him that his boy had died like a
hero, and that he regretted him like a son.
The old man sat that evening in the western gallery, tearless and alone,
brooding over his grief. Three times the curate had peeped in, and as
often had retreated, fearful of disturbing the old man's solemn sorrow.
The autumn sun had gone down in wild and lurid clouds, and the
gallery was growing dark and gloomy, when the white figure of a
beautiful girl entering silently at the lower door came gliding up the
darkening vista, past the light of the windows and the shadow of the
piers, to where the old man sat under the high north window, and knelt
at his feet, weeping bitterly.
It was Agnes Talbot, the daughter of his nearest neighbour and best
friend, whom the curate had slyly sent for, thinking in his honest heart
that she would make a better comforter than he, and rightly; for the old
man, bending over her, lifted up his voice and wept, speaking for the
first time since he heard of his bereavement, and saying, "Oh, my boy,
my boy!"
"He is gone, sir," said Agnes, through her tears; "and gone the way a
man should go. But there is another left you yet; remember him."
"Aye, James," said he; "alas, poor James! I wonder if he knows it. I
wish he were here."
"James is here," said she. "He heard of it before you, and came posting
over as fast as he could, and is waiting outside to know if you can see
him."
The door at the lower end of the gallery opened, and a tall and
noble-looking young man strode up and took his father's hand.
He was above the ordinary height of man, with a grand broad forehead
and bold blue eyes. Old Marmaduke's heart warmed up as he parted his
curling hair, and he said,
"Thank God, I've got one left still! The old house will not perish yet,
while such a one as you remains to uphold it."

After a time they left him, at his own request, and walked out together
through the dark rooms towards the old hall.
"Agnes, my beloved, my darling!" said James, drawing his arm round
her waist; "I knew I should find you with him like a ministering angel.
Say something to comfort me, my