At the door of his mother's cottage garden he paused, and gazed wistfully over the house, with feelings that would scarcely let him enter the gate. There was a light, however, within; and his step over the gravel of the footpath had instantly caught the mother's unerring ear--the light moved--the door was thrown open--and the worn and weary lad, weighed down with sin, and sickness, and sorrow, was pressed in his mother's arms, and his cold cheek bathed in her tears! It was long ere either could speak, and for nearly half an hour the young sailor sat gazing upon the fire, while thick recollections of all the past, held him dull and voiceless. All the time his mother stood by his side, and fixed her eyes upon him, tracing every line that remorse had written, and every hue that sickness had spread over his face; but at length she laid her hand upon his arm, and said, "Walter, my beloved boy, we must go hence. You must not stay in this hateful place, which has seen our ruin, our poverty, and our shame. We must go across the sea, and I will lead you to a place that you will like to see." "You forget, mother! You forget!" said the youth, with a deep sigh; "People travel not without money; neither can they live without it in foreign countries more than here. I am sure you do not think that I am going to take the reward the people offered me, for giving up the murderers--No, no! I will not take a price for their blood!" "I would not have you, Walter!" cried his mother eagerly. "I would not have you touch it with the tip of a finger, if they offered you a world of gold on such an account. But fear not, my boy, I have the means. Look here--what I received but yesterday--two hundred golden sovereigns and this kind letter; and this deed of annuity to you and me, for one hundred pounds a-year as long as either of us live, charged upon the estates of Mr. Henry Beauchamp." "God bless him!" said the youth fervently. "God bless him!" "God will bless him, my boy!" replied the widow. "God will bless him, and make him happy, I am sure; for if ever there was a friend to the friendless, it is Mr. Beauchamp. Only three days after the trial he sent me this;" and she put into her son's hands a letter, in which Henry Beauchamp explained to her that the young sailor, having been severely wounded in turning away a pistol which had been directed towards his head, he was not only bound but pleased to make him a return, which would place him above temptation from poverty.