John Holdsworth by William Clark Russell

Author:William Clark Russell [Russell, William Clark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anboco
Published: 2017-03-07T23:00:00+00:00

“So memory still defies you?” said Mr. Sherman kindly, and with just as much anxiety as would let his companion understand the sincerity of the interest taken in him.

“Yes,” answered Holdsworth, the smile fading off his face. “Once—once only, just now, a fancy came into my mind—I cannot explain its nature, or what it betokened, but it vanished the instant I attempted to grapple with it.”

“Did it leave no impression—no idea whatever?”

“None. I can compare it to nothing better than a dim light stealing across the wall of a dark room and disappearing.”

Mr. Sherman was silent; and presently said:

“What do you propose to do when you reach Sydney?”

“I have often thought of that. I must seek work and wait.”

“Wait until your memory returns?”

“Yes.”

“The captain and I were talking about you just now, and I suggested that, were you to return to England, which I am persuaded is your native country, you might come across a friend who would give you your memory back at once; or failing such a friend, you might encounter some scene which would achieve the same end.”

“I don’t think I could bear another long voyage just yet,” answered Holdsworth, glancing at the sea. “What should make the water so hateful to me? Sometimes I fancy I must have passed many years upon it, and that it has served me badly.”

“Oh, your dislike is easily understood. But now with regard to your prospects. Will it be wise for you to remain in Australia? You must have friends at home—supposing England to be your home.”

“But how shall I find them?”

“Ay, that’s it. Much might be done if I could only discover your name. I must make a list of all the names beginning with H. The only question is, would you know your name if you were to see it?”

“I would try,” answered the poor fellow humbly.

“Well, now, I’ll tell you what I have in my mind,” said Mr. Sherman, laying his hand kindly on Holdsworth’s. “I look upon you as a man whom, having brought to life—for I take the credit of your recovery to myself—it is my proper privilege to support. But I shall not allow you to be dependent on charity. I have an office in Sydney, and you shall have a desk in that office, and so earn a salary that will maintain you in comfort. By-and-by your memory will come back. You will then return to England, and I shall heartily wish you God’s blessing, for you have suffered—yes, you have suffered very much—more than I, more than any of us, can conceive.”

He broke off suddenly, his voice faltering.

Holdsworth seized his hand.

“Mr. Sherman ... good, kind friend ... God will reward you ... I have suffered ... I ... I feel it here,” pressing his hand to his head. “Sir, dear sir, believe me grateful!”

“I do believe you grateful, and it pleases me to believe it, for it is a pleasure to serve the grateful. Well, we have settled that. But understand, though

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