Part 11 (2/2)

Mr Maitland became seriously anxious when morning dawned and Gilbert did not return. Calling up Hugh and Arthur, he told them to mount their ponies, and ride in the direction Gilbert was most likely to have taken; and as soon as the farm servants arrived, he sent them out to search the forest far and near. He himself, after consulting Mary, mounted his horse, and rode off to Christchurch, to ascertain from d.i.c.k Hockley whether Gilbert had paid him a visit.

He found the young man lolling over a gate smoking.

”Your son, Mr Maitland? what, has not he got home?” he exclaimed in unfeigned surprise. ”Yes, he paid me a visit yesterday. He is an old schoolfellow, you know, and I am always happy to see him. He and I are very good friends, and there is no reason we should not be that I know of.”

”That is not to the point,” said Mr Maitland, sternly. ”You acknowledge that he paid you a visit. I wish to know when he left you.”

”Somewhere about five o'clock, as far as I recollect,” answered young Hockley; ”and as he was as sober as a judge, I should think his forester ought to have carried him home in a couple of hours at the outside.”

Mr Maitland continued to cross-question d.i.c.k.

”I tell you he left me at five o'clock, and I know nothing more about him,” was the only answer he could obtain. Mr Maitland was at length convinced that young Hockley knew nothing more than he said about his son. He made inquiries in the neighbourhood, and ascertained from two or three people that they had seen a lad resembling Gilbert in appearance riding towards the forest. He gained, however, a piece of information; it was that a large cargo of goods had been run that evening from the well-known lugger, the _Saucy Sally_, and had been conveyed with a strong escort inland, under the command of her daring captain, Slippery Rogers, who was so called from the way in which he managed on all occasions to elude the Revenue cruisers afloat, and the Government officers and soldiers sent in pursuit of him on sh.o.r.e.

”It's lucky you did not fall in with them, Mr Maitland,” observed his informant. ”They have vowed vengeance against you; and it would fare ill with you if they were to get you into their power.”

”I am not afraid of them, or any ruffians like them!” said Mr Maitland.

”I shall do what I consider right; and try to rid the country of such pests as these outlaws have long been to it. It is a disgrace to those who should know better, and who yet encourage them by buying their goods, and refusing to give evidence when they are caught. They not only deprive the king of his just dues, but injure legitimate trade, and encourage a general lawlessness among the whole population of the coast.

However, I must hasten off, and try and find out what has become of my poor boy.”

On making further inquiries, Mr Maitland ascertained the route the smugglers had taken, and became convinced that Gilbert must have crossed their path, and probably fallen into their hands. He accordingly called on the two neighbouring magistrates, and deposed, to his belief, that violence had been offered to his son by the smugglers. He gave information also to the Revenue officers, who promised all the a.s.sistance they could afford.

Having done all he could, hoping that Gilbert might in the meantime have arrived there, he set off home. Mary met him at the gate. Gilbert had not been seen. Hugh and Arthur had come back, and had gone out again to renew the search. The whole day was spent in searching for the missing one, but no trace of him could be discovered.

Day after day pa.s.sed by, and Mr Maitland could gain no tidings of the son, who, notwithstanding his disobedience, he loved truly, as the last gift of his affectionate wife.

Many weeks afterwards Gilbert's pony was found in the neighbourhood of the farm with its saddle on its back.

Arthur, from overstudy, it was supposed, fell ill, and his life was despaired of. Poor Mr Maitland feared he should lose him also. He had not unhappily the consolation of true religion. He was a just and upright man in his own sight, and in that of his neighbours, and fully believed that he deserved the favours of G.o.d on earth, and merited heaven when he should be called hence. When the time of trial came, there was something wanting. He could not look up to G.o.d as his loving, tender Father, and go confidently to Him in prayer for support, or say truly, ”Thy will be done.”

Hugh had gone to college, where from the first he exhibited the talents which had gained him credit during his school career, and his tutor wrote word that he was among the most promising young men in the University. He avoided all unnecessary expenses, and being of a thoroughly independent spirit, kept aloof from those who would have drawn him away from his studies. His aims were, however, worldly; the human intellect he held in the highest estimation, and was satisfied that by his unaided efforts he could do as he desired. He was sober, moral, and economical, because he was convinced that should he be otherwise he would injure his prospects. Hugh Maitland was therefore looked upon as an excellent young man, and perhaps few were more convinced that such was the case than himself. He wrote home deeply regretting Arthur's illness, hoping that the doctor's skill and Mary's watchful care would bring him round, and sympathising with his father in his grief that no tidings had been received of Gilbert.

”I am still convinced, however,” he observed, ”that had he met with foul play, or by any accident lost his life, his body would have been found, and I have hopes that he will still turn up. Perhaps, as he had been reading Robinson Crusoe, he may have taken it into his wise head to run off to sea, though I should have supposed that he would have sent a line to inform us of his romantic proceeding. Tell Arthur to keep up his spirits, and not to say die.”

Mary watched over Arthur with the most loving care, and through G.o.d's mercy he gradually recovered his strength, and was able to resume his studies. The doctor warned him, however, that he must not slick to them too closely, and advised him to take constant rides with his sister, and be in the open air as much as possible.

”If you will be guided by me, my young friend, you will give up your intention of going to college, and a.s.sist your father on his farm,” he observed. ”You will find it a more healthy life than the one you propose, and probably get as strong as you can wish.” Arthur began to consider whether it was not his duty to follow the doctor's advice.

Mary hoped that he would do so, as he would then live at home with her.

Mr Maitland promised every encouragement, remarking--

”Now I have lost poor Gilbert, there is no one else to keep on the farm when I am gone, or to afford a home to Mary.”

This latter argument weighed greatly with Arthur. He had had indeed no definite aim in his wish to go to college; he might perhaps become a master in a school, or take pupils at the university, or should he get a fellows.h.i.+p, obtain a living, but he had never thought even in that case of the duty of striving to win souls for Christ. Of the gospel and its requirements he had a very imperfect knowledge. Possessing a more gentle and loving spirit than Hugh, he thought it would be pleasant to go about among the poor, to try and make them moral and good, and relieve them in distress. There were very few cottagers in their neighbourhood who required much a.s.sistance. When any of them were sick, he and Mary had found much satisfaction in carrying them food and delicacies which they were unable to procure, and in helping them sometimes with money from their own scanty means.

During the summer long vacation Hugh did not come home, having gone with some young men who had engaged him to read with them. When he returned at Christmas, Arthur's resolution of becoming a farmer was somewhat shaken. Hugh put before him so many of the advantages a hard-working man with good talents might obtain at the university, that his desire to try his fortune there revived. He had continued his studies for several hours every day, and now Hugh being able to a.s.sist him, he set to work with renewed vigour during the long winter evenings.

CHAPTER FOUR.

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