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For Name and Fame; or, Through Afghan Passes, a fiction by George Alfred Henty |
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Chapter 22. At Home At Last |
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_ The next day Colonel Ripon started with the 66th and, at the end of the first day's march, met a messenger who, among other despatches, carried a telegram granting him, at once, the leave he asked for--and which, indeed, had been due, had he asked for it many years before. His intention was to accompany the 66th to Kurrachee, and to sail with it to England. This intention was carried out, and the remnant of the regiment safely reached England. One of Colonel Ripon's first steps was to accompany Will--or, as he ought now to be called, Tom--to the Horse Guards; and to procure an insertion in the Gazette stating that Captain William Gale, of the 66th, would henceforth be known by his true and proper name of Thomas Ripon. The colonel purchased a fine estate in Somersetshire and, retiring from the service, settled down there. There was a considerable discussion, between father and son, as to whether the latter should remain in the army. Colonel Ripon was unwilling that his son should relinquish a profession of which he was fond; and in which, from his early promotion, he had every chance of obtaining high rank and honor--but Tom, who saw how great a pleasure his society was to his father, and how lonely the latter's life would be without him, was resolute in his determination to quit the service. He had already, as he said, passed through a far greater share of adventure than usually falls to one man's lot; and the colonel's property was so large that there was not the slightest occasion for him to continue in the service. Not long after his return to England, Will paid a visit to Ely workhouse. He was accompanied by the colonel, and the two men walked together up to the gate of the workhouse. He rang at the bell, and a woman opened the door. She curtsied, at seeing two tall, soldier-like gentlemen before her. "Your name is Mrs. Dickson, I think?" the younger said. The woman gave a violent start, and gazed earnestly at him. "It is Will Gale!" she exclaimed, drawing back a step. "They said you were dead, years ago." "No, I am very much alive, Mrs. Dickson; and glad, most glad, to see an old friend again." "Good Lord!" the woman exclaimed, "it is the boy himself, sure enough;" and, for a moment, she seemed as if she would have rushed into his arms; and then she drew back, abashed at his appearance. Tom, however, held out his arms; and the woman fell sobbing into them. "Why, you did not think so badly of me," he said, "as to think that I should forget the woman who was a mother to me. "Father," he said, "--For I have found my real father, Mrs. Dickson, as you always said I should, some day-- "It is to this good woman that I owe what I am. But for her, I might now be a laboring man; but it is to her kindness, to her good advice, to her lessons, that I owe everything. It was she who taught me that I should so behave that, if my parents ever found me, they should have no cause to be ashamed of me. She was, indeed, as a mother to me; and this lodge was my home, rather than the work house, inside. "Ah! And here is Sam!" Sam Dickson, coming out at this moment, stood in open-mouthed astonishment, at seeing his wife standing with her hand in that of a gentleman. "Oh, Sam! Who do you think this is?" Sam made no reply, but stared at Tom, with all his eyes. "If it warn't that he be drowned and dead, long ago," he said, at last, "I should say it was Will Gale, growed up and got to be a gentleman. I shouldn't ha' knowed him, at first; but when he smiles, I don't think as how I can be far wrong." "You are right, Sam. I am the boy you and your wife were so kind to, from the time you picked him up, just where we are standing; and whom you last handed over to go aboard a smack, at Yarmouth. She was--as you have heard--run down in the North Sea; but I was saved, in the ship which ran over her, and was taken on it to the East. There--after being wrecked again, and going through lots of adventures--I went to India; enlisted there, and fought through the Afghan war. "I am a captain, now; and my name is no longer Will Gale, but Tom Ripon, for I have found my real father--this gentleman, Colonel Ripon." "Who feels," Colonel Ripon went on, "how much he and his son owe to your kindness, and that of your good wife, here; and who, as you will find, is not ungrateful. I have just bought an estate, down in Somersetshire; and I mean to install you and your wife in a pretty lodge, at the gates, with enough to live upon, comfortably, to the end of your lives." Mrs. Dickson cried with joy, as Colonel Ripon entered into details of what he intended to do for them; and Sam--although, as was his way, much less demonstrative in his gladness--was yet greatly delighted. There was a good garden to the lodge. They were to have the keep of a cow, and thirty shillings per week, as long as they lived. Before the colonel left, Sam Dickson's resignation of his post was handed in to the master. The colonel told them that at the end of the month, when Sam's notice would expire, they were to sell off what furniture they had, as it would cost more, to convey it so long a distance, than it was worth; and he would take care that they should find everything comfortable and ready for occupation, at the lodge, upon their arrival. Tom called upon the master and matron and schoolmaster, and thanked all for the kindness that they had shown him, when a boy; and Colonel Ripon left a check with the master, to be expended in tobacco, tea, and sugar for the aged inmates of the house. No words can express the delight of Sam Dickson and his wife when, a month later, they arrived at their new home. Tom had spared no trouble in seeing that it was comfortably and cosily furnished. The garden had been thoroughly dug up, and planted; and Mrs. Dickson could scarcely believe that she was the mistress of so pleasant a home. Tom was forgetful of none of his old friends; and he wrote to an address which Hans--his companion among the Malays--had given him when they separated, and forwarded to him a handsome watch, as a souvenir of his comrade. There is no more to be told. Captain Ripon--still a very young man--is living with his father, the colonel. He is one of the most popular men in his county; and there is some talk of his standing for one of its boroughs, at the next election; and it is rumored that he is likely, ere long, to bring home a lady who will be the future mistress of Burnham Park. He is quite content that he has left the army--though he fidgeted a little, while the Egyptian war was going on, and could not help feeling a little regret that he did not take part in the storming of Tel-el-Kebir. [THE END] _ |
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