For a few moments father and children clung to each other. When at
length they looked round to express their gratitude to the plucky
rescuer, he was nowhere to be seen. Seeing a great crowd of the
Blackett pitmen arrive with a run, George had felt that he could be of
no more use, and slipping into the wood had made for home. He wanted
no thanks, and moreover the brig was to sail at four in the morning,
at which time the tide would serve.

"He's gone--George has gone!" cried Matthew.

"We can never repay him," murmured Mr. Blackett. "We must go on to see
him at the earliest moment in the morning."

When Mr. Blackett, with Matthew and the rescued Mary, drove early next
day to the Fairburns' house, it was only to learn that George had
sailed for London some hours before. There was no help for it, and all
they could do was to overwhelm the father and mother with words of
gratitude and praise. They informed the Fairburns that by the
exertions of the men the library and its contents had been saved; the
rest of the mansion was left a wreck. Mrs. Maynard had been drawn from
the mass of burning rubbish at the foot of the staircase, and was now
lying between life and death.

George had had a bad quarter of an hour at the parting from his
parents, but by the time the vessel felt the swell of the open sea he
was full of spirits again. The sea voyage, even in a dirty collier,
was a delight. Then there was London the wonderful at the end of it,
and he had long desired to see the great capital of which he had heard
and read so much.