to find me. I had been here some time before
I could make up my mind to let Mary know who I was. Instead of giving
me the cold shoulder, bless her heart, she welcomed me at once, and I
have been as happy as the day is long ever since, except when I think of
the past and my own folly; but as it does me no good dwelling on that, I
try to forget it. Mr Pengelley is a lawyer, and lawyers, as you know,
hear a good many things. One day I told him about Harry; he had never
heard of a child being saved from the wreck of the _Royal George_, nor
had any people about here that I can make out. The next day he told me
that he had been thinking over the matter, and asked me if I had ever in
my wanderings been to the house of an old Mr Hayward, living some miles
off. I remembered not only the house, which is a very solitary one,
half a mile or more from any highroad, but the old gentleman himself,
and a lady whom I heard was his widowed daughter. She spoke to me
kindly when I first went there, and said that she loved sailors, and
wanted to hear all about the sea. She invited me into the house, and
gave me a good dinner, and begged that I would look in whenever I came
that way. I went several times. Though she was every inch a lady, I
saw no servant in the house, and guessed that she took care of the old
gentleman; indeed it was evident that their means were very scanty. She
must have been very pretty in her youth, but care and sorrow had left
their traces on her countenance; and I remembered, too, that she was
always dressed in black. `I will tell you her history,' said Mr
Pengelley. `Her father, Mr Hayward, was once a flourishing merchant at
Bristol, and she, his only daughter, was looked upon as his heiress. A
young naval officer, Henry Stafford, met her at Bath, where she was
staying with some friends; they fell in love with each other, and were
engaged to marry as soon as he got his promotion, for he was then only a
mate in the service. He and his only sister, Emily, lived with their
widowed mother at the same place. Henry had good prospects, for he was
heir to his uncle Sir Mostyn Stafford, of an old and very proud family,
who had an estate in the neighbouring county. When the baronet heard
that his nephew was about to marry without consulting him, he was very
indignant, and declared that if he persisted in connecting himself with
a family which he looked upon as inferior to his own, he would stop the
allowance he