THE PROMISED VISIT

Pat lived in a chronic state of excited expectation after the departure of little Rupert, counting the days till the week should be over, and then spending almost all his time in waiting and watching for the white-sailed boat which should bring his little prince back to him again.

But for this hope to look forward to, the child would have felt very keenly the absence of his playmate; for they all sadly missed the happy laughter and baby prattle of the golden-haired child they had learned to love. Jim seemed to miss him as much as anybody, and perhaps both he and Pat were happiest when sitting over the fire together after dusk, and talking of his beauty, his bold, masterful ways, and the quick, clever things he had said and done. They never seemed tired of the subject, and if Pat was not reading to Jim out of the book they both loved so well, they were almost always talking of Rupert, wondering where he was, and what he was doing, and whether he would come soon and see them and Lone Rock again.

Poor Jim only got on very slowly. The doctor who had come with Sir Arthur and Lady St. John in their boat had told them it would be a long time before he would be fit for any sort of work again, and Jim began to feel as though his working days were over for ever. He had of late lost flesh and muscle rather fast. He noticed how shrunken his arms began to look, and Pat would sometimes tell him that his face was much thinner than it used to be. His bronze was paling too, and now that Eileen kept his hair neatly brushed and trimmed, and his bushy beard was reduced to order, he certainly looked a very different creature from the rough, uncouth Jim of past days. He used to feel a sheepish sort of pride when Pat would hold up a little looking-glass before his face to show him "how handsome he was getting!" But certainly the change both in the man's aspect and the expression of his face was greatly in his favour; and Eileen found it hard to remember that she had once thought him the most rugged specimen of humanity that she had ever come across. But she was more and more convinced that there was something seriously wrong with him, and that he would never be able to resume the hard life of a seaman which he had always led hitherto. What would become of the poor fellow she could not bear to think, only that the recollection of Lady St. John's gentle look and words would occur to her at intervals, and she felt sure that the lady would not allow the brave rescuer of her child to come to want through his act of devotion and bravery.

What Jim thought about it all himself she did not know, until one night when they chanced to be alone together whilst the other men were up aloft, and Pat was sleeping soundly in his bed. The wind had been rather wild again the last few nights, and it was blowing half-a-gale now. Eileen was preparing something hot for the watchers when they should come down, and Jim, who was not disposed to go to bed just yet, was sitting watching her.

"It must seem a strange sort of thing to you, Jim," she said, smiling, "to have naught to do with the lamp on nights like these. I wonder if you miss going up to her (as Pat says) these nights? Do you think of her or dream of her in your sleep?"

"Now and again I do—dream I'm going up and up and up the stairs, and can't never reach the top. That's the nights when my breathing's bad. It comes to me like a dream of going on and on up the stairs, not able to breathe, and the stairs never ending. I'm glad to wake then, and find myself in bed. Sometimes I wonder whether I'll ever get up those stairs again."

Eileen's face was full of sympathy and quick comprehension.

"Do you feel like that, Jim? Do you feel very bad?"

"I don't know rightly how to say it; but I feel as though all the life and spring had been took out of me. I don't seem to have no strength inside nor out. That's all I feel. The pain don't trouble me much. But I've a feeling sometimes that it could be pretty sharp if I was to try moving about or lifting weights again. I don't know whether I shall ever get up those stairs to have a look at her again. Sometimes I feel as if my last look would be when the boat comes to take me away from the Lone Rock for good and all."

"Oh, Jim! But you're not going to leave us yet!"

"I don't know, my lass. I don't know. But I'm only a useless log here, and any day they may send and fetch me away. I sent a message by the doctor to them on shore, saying as I wasn't able to do my work, and that I couldn't look to stay on here. I've sort of expected to be took away ever since, but they haven't come for me yet."

"And where will you go, Jim, when they do take you ashore?" asked Eileen, with wide-open, wondering eyes. "Have you got any friends as would give you a bit of a home till you were fit for work again?"

"Nay, I've got naught of that sort," answered the man quietly. "You see I wasn't never one for making friends at the best of time, and the last ten years I've been in prison, or else here on Lone Rock. I suppose they'll take me into the 'Firmary till I'm a bit stronger and better; and if so be as I'm never fit to earn my bread again, I suppose I shall get kept on there the rest of my time."

"Oh, Jim!" cried Eileen, her eyes full of tears, "you don't never mean you'll have to spend the rest of your days in the workhouse!"

He shook his head gently, and his face grew strangely soft and thoughtful.

"Nay, lass, I don't know—I can't see not a step before me; but somehow that don't trouble me. May be it's because I'm weak-like and sick; but the thought about what's coming doesn't trouble me one bit. I've a feeling somewhere that the Lord will see after me; and His way is sure to be the best, and will lead straightest home. It seemed like as if He called me by name that night, and I went out into the sea not knowing whether I'd sink in the waves or not. He kept me from that, and brought me safe ashore, and it seems as though I could leave everything else to Him now. I couldn't see the way in the dark, with the waves all tumbling and washing over me; but He could see, and so He can now. That's how I think about it; it's all right as long as He knows."

Eileen's tears dropped, but she turned her face away and dried them quickly, and then her smile shone out like a sunbeam.

"Well, if that's how you feel about it, you're a happy man, Jim, and I needn't worrit myself about you as I have been doing. If we only leave the future in the hands of the blessed Saviour, we never find that He gives us cause to regret. He cares for us a deal better than we know how to care for ourselves."

"It's caring for ourselves as makes us sink in the waves, I'm thinking, often," said Jim thoughtfully. "That was the way with Peter. It was all right with him so long as he looked at the Lord and trusted. It was only when he began to think about himself, and the danger he was in, that he began to sink, and then so soon as he cried to the Lord he was saved, and helped in the midst of his peril. It all comes to that all the Bible through—do the best you can—do the duty that comes to you—and leave the rest to Him. That was in my head all the while that night. I can't feel afraid now. Whatever comes to be will be His doing."

And after that Eileen ceased to fret herself over poor Jim's future. She felt that he had within him that which would brighten his lot, and make it a happy one, be it cast where it might.

The seas ran too high for several days longer for there to be any hope of a visit to Lone Rock, but towards the end of the month a calm came down on the face of the sea, and Pat resumed his watch with the greatest eagerness and interest. How he wished that Jim could climb up to the gallery and share it with him, but Jim was quite unable to think of attempting such a feat. So the little boy divided his time between the high look-out place and the fireside where Jim passed his time; and Eileen spruced up her kitchen, and made it as bright as hands could make it, to be ready day by day for the arrival of the little prince on his promised visit.

One day Pat saw a beautiful yacht steaming past the Lone Rock at half a mile distance, and making for the bay beyond. He was always interested in such a vessel, but he did not connect her appearance with the return of his little prince, till he presently saw her casting anchor in the bay and launching a boat from the side; and then in great excitement he got his father to come with the telescope, and five minutes later was tearing down the winding stairs at the risk of toppling down and breaking his neck in his haste.

"Mother! mother! Jim!—he's coming! They're coming! I saw them quite plain. They came in a beautiful ship of their own, and now the boat is coming to the rock. Oh, mother! they are all there—the king and the queen and the little prince"—for so Pat was accustomed to speak of them, in spite of his father's laughter and his mother's attempted explanations. "Oh, Jim, do come down to the rocks and see them land! Prince Rupert will be so pleased to see you there. Come, mother! Come, Jim!"

There was no resisting him. Jim could hobble about a little with his stick, and the three went out together into the bright sunshine, and stood watching whilst the white-winged boat came skimming over the waves towards them. Pat was wildly waving his cap, and shouting out his greetings long before they could be heard; but as soon as the boat got within hail, the little yellow-haired boy, who was in a suit of sailor white, and a veritable picture of childish beauty, sprang up in his seat and began waving his straw hat, and shouting at the very pitch of his voice, and hardly had the boat touched the rocks before the two boys were in each other's arms, hugging and kissing as though they never meant to let each other go. The mothers stood looking on and smiling, Eileen half ashamed at the "forwardness" of her child before the gentry, but Lady St. John, all smiles and sweetness, as she turned to her, and said—

"My little Rupert has been crying out for Pat every day, and sometimes will not be pacified without him. I am so glad for them to meet again. I think you made him happier on Lone Rock than we have done at home."

"Oh, my lady, don't say that!" said the woman, half pleased, half shamed, as she led the way within, Rupert leaving Pat for a moment to give her a warm hug, and then dashing at Jim to renew acquaintance with him.

"We must manage for them to be friends still," said the sweet-voiced lady as she entered Eileen's bright living-room, whilst the men and the children remained outside. "It is not good for children to be brought up without companionship, and Pat is such a dear, gentle, little fellow, Rupert will learn nothing but good from him."

"I hope he will learn no harm, my lady; but Pat is only a sailor's son, and I hope he will not take liberties with the little gentleman. It was being so much together those days that did it, but——"

"Now, you must not speak as though I were not very glad my boy should make a friend of your son," said Lady St. John, in her sweet way. "I know that in after life their paths will lie widely asunder, but that is no reason why as children they should not play together, and love each other. And it will do my child good to learn, whilst he is still young, that the lives of others are not cast in quite such pleasant places. It will give him sympathy and comprehension as to the troubles of others, which it is right that all should learn. And now, Eileen—if you will let me call you by your pretty name——"

"Please do, my lady. Most folks call me so. I know myself best by it."

"Yes, and I have heard so much about you by that name that it comes first to my lips. So Eileen, then, I want you to sit down and talk with me a little about the future. Now that Pat's health is re-established, are you still anxious to remain upon the lighthouse? Is Lone Rock the home you would choose for yourself if you had the choice?"

"Well, no, my lady, I can't say it is; though we have been very happy through the best part of a year. It's a lonely life, and a rough one, and there's no way of getting the boy taught, save what his father and I can teach him ourselves, and we should like him to be better educated than we were. But I'm afraid if we took him back where he came from, he would droop and pine again; and the pay here is good and regular, and the work not so very hard, save in rough weather. Still——"

"Still, if anything should turn up that would give you a pleasant country home, and advantages for Pat, without all the drawbacks of the lonely lighthouse life, you would be willing to think about it?"

"Why, yes, my lady," answered Eileen, smiling, "glad, and thankful, too. But chances like that seldom come to us poor folks; and we must not repine, for we have been very happy here."

"I am sure you have," answered the lady, "but my husband and I want you to be happy somewhere else instead. I will tell you in a few words what has recently happened to us. The death of a relative has put us in possession of a large property on the coast a few miles to the eastward of Lone Rock. This has made my husband give up his position in the army, and come home to live. The yacht which met us at Malta with our child is another possession of his, and the sailing-master, who has been in charge of her many years now, and has come in for an annuity from our relative, is anxious to retire when his place is filled. My husband wants your husband to take command of the yacht. He has made all due inquiries about him, and is satisfied that he is qualified for the post. We shall not use it a great deal, but we intend to keep it, as our means allow it, and we are both fond of the sea. You would have a cottage on the estate to live in—most likely one of the lodges—and your husband would be a great deal ashore as well as a good deal afloat, and there is anchorage for the yacht quite near to the Hall, which is on the coast, as I have said. Pat could go to school, and would still have sea air about him, and a pleasant country home to live in; and as for poor Jim, he is to receive a pension so long as he is in any wise disabled, and we should be very glad to pay you a fixed sum for boarding him out with you, as there is plenty of room in the lodge, and he could help to open the gate even before he was able to take any other employment, which we shall find for him when he gets stronger, as I trust he may——"

But Lady St. John stopped short there, for Eileen had suddenly thrown her apron over her head, and was sobbing aloud.

"You are not distressed, I hope?" began Lady St. John; but Eileen, by a great effort, recovered herself, and looked up with brimming eyes that were shining like stars through the mist of happy tears.

"Oh, my lady, my lady! it seems too good to be true; sure they are tears of joy I am shedding. It's myself that can hardly believe my own ears. I don't know what to say, nor how to thank you. It's like a blessed dream entirely—that's what it is, and my breath is fairly took away!"

"Oh, if that is all, I do not mind," said the lady, smiling; "tears of joy are soon dried. Well, Eileen, I believe my husband and yours are talking it over outside now; and I hope by what you say that he will be willing to entertain the offer. I have set my heart upon having you and Pat at the lodge, and then my little Rupert will not quite lose his playfellow. The children will be able to meet and enjoy a game of play together sometimes, and, perhaps, as Pat grows up, if he takes kindly to his father's life, he may live to take his place in time, and remain as my boy's captain or mate, when his parents' sailing days are over. Rupert must never forget what he owes to those who saved him from death that fearful night. I think that that is a story which will become engraved upon his heart, as it is engraved upon that of his mother."

A sound of voices without warned the women that others were coming in. Nat entered with a happy glance beaming from his eyes, and an expression of mingled bewilderment and delight upon his face.

"Have you heard the news, wife?" he asked; "I scarce know whether I am standing on my head or my heels."

"And you will take it, Nat?" asked the wife breathlessly, and Lady St. John waited eagerly for the reply.

"Take it? Ay, that I will, and be thankful to them who offer it, and to the good God who watches over us. I don't like this rough life for you and the little one. We've had a good winter this last year at Lone Rock, and you've made home home to a man, even out here. But it's not the right place for a woman and a bairn. I've been thinking so more and more as I've heard sailors tell of some of the hardships that have been lived through here. The boy has got his health back again, thank the Lord, and we've been happy here, and I'd not have thrown it up in haste if nothing else hadn't come in the way. And I'll not be in a hurry now to leave them before they can get another man to suit. But we'll not turn our backs on such a chance as has come in our path. I've told Sir Arthur that I thank him most kindly for thinking of us all like this; and since we may take poor Jim ashore with us, and make a home for him still—why, there's not another word to be said. We'll be ready to go ashore as soon as they can get a man to take charge of the Lone Rock. I can't say more than that."

"And that is quite enough," answered Sir Arthur, smiling; "I would not have you act unfairly by your employers, and my sailing-master will remain on with me till you are free, and for a little while longer, to show you the ways of the vessel. And now, that being all settled, we will think of getting away from here; but it will not be long before we meet again, and then our boys will not find that visiting each other is fraught with quite so many difficulties."

Rupert was a good deal displeased at being carried off so quickly, but the parents knew that those on the rock would have too much to discuss to wish their visitors to remain. The little autocrat was pacified by hearing that Pat and Jim should come to see him at home quite soon, and whilst the boat sailed away in the distance, Pat was told the wonderful news, whilst Jim sat still on the rock which was his usual seat out of doors, and gazed out over the sparkling water, his hands clasped together on the top of his stick, and his chin resting upon them in meditative fashion.

"Oh!" cried Pat, when he fully understood the whole matter; "isn't it wonderful? Isn't it just like a story, mother? Oh, Jim! what do you think about it?"

"Why, it seems to me," answered the man quietly, "for all the world as though the Lord had done it. It's just His way of helping us out of the deep waters, and it's too good not to be true."