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Old Mrs Wetherholm was delighted to receive my poor mother and me, and took the very fondest care of us, as did Aunt Bretta, while my father proceeded on his voyage. Soon after this I was christened under a name which may sound somewhat fine to southern ears, Willand Wetherholm; but, as will be seen, I did not very long retain it. My mother had another trial soon after this.
"I am Willand, your grandchild, Granny!" I exclaimed, springing across the room. "Young man, you have made a strange mistake," said the old lady, in a voice which sent a chill through my heart. "I never had a grandchild. You take me for some one else." "Beg pardon, marm," said I, trying to recover myself. "I took you for my grandmother, Mrs Wetherholm, who once lived here.
She was very much interested with my description of the young lady. "So, Willand," said she, "I hope you will go back to Plymouth and find her out again. There are very many good girls in the world, but, like sweet violets, they often bloom unseen, and it is not so easy to find them.
He very quickly understood who I was. "You are not the first seaman I have known who has been lost for years, and has at last turned up again when he was least expected," said he; "but welcome, Willand, I'm very glad to see you, and to own you for my nephew."
Now, when my aunt spoke thus, I laughed, and said that I had not thought of settling, and that it was not likely I should win a young lady like her, who was a great deal too good to be the wife of a foremast man like me, and anything else I never expected to be. "You need not say that, Willand," replied Aunt Bretta. "I have something to say to you on that subject.
"Oh, Willand, had but dear mother been alive, how it would have done her heart good to see you! She never ceased talking of you, and always felt sure that you would come back when you could." I will not describe the scene any farther. I pretty nearly cried too indeed I am not certain that I did not, but they were tears of happiness, and not yet entirely of happiness.
I cannot describe the tumultuous feelings which came rushing into my bosom when I saw that child. "Who are you, my little fellow? What's your name?" I asked, with a tremulous voice. "Willand Willand Wetherholm," he answered plainly. Yes, my feelings had not deceived me. I took him up, he nothing loth, though he looked inquiringly at my empty sleeve. "And your mother, boy, where is she?"
It was like the sight of a splendid trout in a transparent stream, sailing pensively to and fro your fly, in a willand- a-won't sort of a way. Such a trout! it would be a thousand pities to leave him, when evidently so well disposed! That trout, fair maid or gentle widow, would have kept youwhipping the stream and dragging the fly from morning to dewy eve.
Indeed, to this day, I have often to stop and consider which is my proper name, and certainly could not avoid answering to that of Will Weatherhelm. If one of my old shipmates were to be asked if he knew Willand Wetherholm, he would certainly say, "No; never heard of such a man." "But don't you remember Will Weatherhelm?"
"Willand, my dear laddie, ye ken that your father, and your grandfather, and two uncles were all sailors, and were lost at sea, indeed, I may well say that such has been the hard lot of all the males of our line, then why should ye wish without reason or necessity to go and do the same, and break your old grandmother's heart, who loves ye far better than her own life's blood," said the kind old lady, taking me in her arms and pressing me to her bosom.
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