“Ah! I thought when I saw him to-day,” said Cuddie, setting down the candle, as if forgetting his purpose of visiting his uncle’s bed-side, “when I saw him sitting with his placid face raised, and his ear intent to learn all that was going on, I thought of the day and night after his accident, when he was fretting and fretting, as if it was our fault that he could not see which neighbour it was that came to ask after him, nor know when it was day or when it was dark.” “Aye, before he learned to know everybody by the voice, and to tell by the feel when the sun was going down. It was you, Cuddie, that sat beside him during those nights, and brought comfort to him as often as you could step in from your work. Did you think of that, too, when you looked upon him this day?” Cuddie seized the candle again, and was going. “Tim himself remembers your nursing, and he shall not forget it, when you are no longer a brother and a countryman. He shall never learn from me that you were here, and left without laying your hand upon his head, or a kiss upon his forehead.” “There will be Adam to watch over him, besides you and Walter.” “And you, when the war is over. You will surely come back, and ply on this very river, and show yourself in the old port, when the cry after deserters is over, and the press-gangs are broken up?” “Never. I shall make myself altogether an American. King George will never more have me for a subject or a servant; and if he has me for an enemy, by going to war with America, he may thank his own press-gangs for it;—and not only on account of me, but of the thousands more that seek a home in foreign ships because the British navy has been to them nothing better than a prison.” Cuddie was some time up stairs while Effie hastened to pack such provisions as she had in the house. Indifferent as her brother’s manner was when he came down, she thought there were signs of emotion passed away. “You have not insulted his sleep, I am sure, Cuddie? You have not breathed out ill will over him?” “No: he first taught me the story of the Prodigal Son, as I remembered when I saw his Bible near him. Besides, I shall never see him again.— Now, leave me to make my way over the ferry. You had better let the boat be found on the opposite side in the morning. They will come hunting for me here, and you must not be found aiding and abetting in my escape. You will have uncle Christopher for a witness to my not having been here; and if he should chance to wake while you are out——” “Whisht! he is stirring! Hark to his step overhead!” Cuddie and his basket were past the threshold, the door was closed, and Effie bending over her work before uncle Christopher’s night-capped head appeared from the stairs. “I thought I heard Walter?” said he. “I thought Walter had come home?” Walter was not to be home till the middle of the next day, the old man was reminded.