"You have behaved very well--very well, and I can do little more now than thank you, for I have been robbed of all I possessed about me at the moment."
"Oh! you have been robbed?"
"Aye, truly, I have, and have been thrown into the water, and thus I have been nearly murdered."
"It is lucky you escaped from them without further injury," said the ferryman; "but come in doors, you must be mad to stand here in the cold."
"Thank you; your hospitality is great, and, at this moment, of the greatest importance to me."
"Such as we have," said the honest ferryman, "you shall be welcome to. Come in--come in."
He turned round and led the way to the house, which he entered, saying--as he opened the small door that led into the main apartment, where all the family were assembled, waiting for the almost only meal they had had that day, for the ferryman had not the means, before the sun had set, of sending for food, and then it was a long way before it could be found, and then it was late before they could get it,--
"Wife, we have a stranger to sleep with us to-night, and for whom we must prepare a bed."
"A stranger!" echoed the wife--"a stranger, and we so poor!"
"Yes; one whose life I have saved, and who was nearly drowned. We cannot refuse hospitality upon such an occasion as that, you know, wife."
The wife looked at the stranger as he entered the room, and sat down by the fire.
"I am sorry," he said, "to intrude upon you; but I will make you amends for the interruption and inconvenience I may cause you; but it is too late to apply elsewhere, and yet I am doubtful, if there were, whether I could go any further."
"No, no," said the ferryman; "I am sure a man who has been beaten and robbed, and thrown into a rapid and, in some parts, deep stream, is not fit to travel at this time of night."
"You are lonely about here," said the stranger, as he shivered by the fire.
"Yes, rather; but we are used to it."
"You have a family, too; that must help to lighten the hours away, and help you over the long evenings."
"So you may think, stranger, and, at times, so it is; but when food runs short, it is a long while to daylight, before any more money can be had. To be sure, we have fish in the river, and we have what we can grow in the garden; but these are not all the wants that we feel, and those others are sometimes pinching. However, we are thankful for what we have, and complain but little when we can get no more; but sometimes we do repine--though I cannot say we ought--but I am merely relating the fact, whether it be right or wrong."
"Exactly. How old is your daughter?"
"She is seventeen come Allhallow's eve."
"That is not far hence," said the stranger. "I hope I may be in this part of the country--and I think I shall--I will on that eve pay you a visit; not one on which I shall be a burden to you, but one more useful to you, and more consonant to my character."
"The future will tell us all about that," said the ferryman; "at present we will see what we can do, without complaining, or taxing anybody."
The stranger and the ferryman sat conversing for some time before the fire, and then the latter pointed out to him which was his bed--one made up near the fire, for the sake of its warmth; and then the ferryman retired to the next room, a place which was merely divided by an imperfect partition.
However, they all fell soundly asleep. The hours on that day had been longer than usual; there was not that buoyancy of spirit; when they retired, they fell off into a heavy, deep slumber.
From this they were suddenly aroused by loud cries and piercing screams from one of the family.
So loud and shrill were the cries, that they all started up, terrified and bewildered beyond measure, unable to apply their faculties to any one object.
"Help--help, father!--help!" shrieked the voice of the young girl whom we have before noticed.
The ferryman jumped up, and rushed to the spot where his daughter lay.
"Fanny," he said--"Fanny, what ails thee--what ails thee? Tell me, my dear child."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, almost choked--"oh, father! are we all alone? I am terrified."
"What ails thee--what ails thee? Tell me what caused you to scream out in such a manner?"
"I--I--that is I, father, thought--but no, I am sure it was reality. Where is the stranger?"
"A light--a light!" shouted the fisherman.
In another moment a light was brought him, and he discovered the stranger reclining in his bed, but awake, and looking around him, as if in the utmost amazement.