True, she broke
down on the ship, whither Philip and Cornelius had brought her to bid
us farewell; and she wept bitter tears on my mother's breast, which I
knew were meant chiefly for me. But at last she presented a brave face
for me to kiss, though 'twas rather a cold, limp hand I pressed as she
started down the ladder for the boat where Cornelius awaited.
"Good-bye, lad," said Phil, with the old smile, which had survived all
his toils and hurts and sorrows; "I shall see you in London next, I
hope. And trust me--about Fanny."
"Thank you, dear Phil, and God bless you! Always working for other
people's happiness, when your own--well, good-bye!"
He had made no request as to my course in the possibility of my
meeting Madge in London; but he knew that _I_ knew what he would wish,
and I was glad he had not thought necessary to tell me.
Philip and Cornelius rowed the boat back, Fanny waving her
handkerchief. We saw them land, and stand upon the wharf to watch our
ship weigh anchor. My mother would wave her handkerchief a moment, and
then apply it to her eyes, and then give it another little toss, and
then her eyes another touch. I stood beside her, leaning upon the
gunwale, with a lump in my throat. Suddenly I realised we were under
way. We continued to exchange farewell motions with the three upon the
wharf. How small Fanny looked! how slender was Philip! how the water
widened every instant between us and them! how long a time must pass
ere we should see them again! A kind of sudden consternation was upon
my mother's face, and in my heart, at the thought.
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