"But hope without reason," suggested Mr. Marvel.
"Except the reason that exists and the comfort that exists in thinking of the cases that we have read of in stories of shipwrecked men who have been preserved from death. But hope is a good thing always, whether it comes from reason or fancy. And if you can believe as I believe, it will be the better and not the worse for you. Indeed, indeed, sir, you don't know how earnest I am in this. Think of the friendship that exists between me and Jo; I believe it to be something better and higher than ordinary friendships among boys and men. It has grown up with us, until it has become almost a part of our very being. We are never out of each other's thoughts; when he was away on his first voyage he was always thinking of me, and I of him. And that Christmas night that he came home--do you know what happened then, sir? Ellen can tell you that during the whole of that day I was uneasy about Jo; I had dreamed of him the night before, and my dream made me unhappy, for I was convinced that he was in danger. I had no reason for that, nor had I any reason for telling Ellen that Jo was very near us an hour before he came to the door. But unhappily, it all came true as I feared. Now, sir, I have thought often that if Jo was dead, I should feel it and know it--and I don't feel it and don't know it. Something keeps whispering to me, 'You will see him again, be with him again.' And I believe that I shall. For last night, sir, I dreamed of Jo, and Jo was alive; and as sure as we're sitting here talking, we shall see Jo one day, and all the dreadful mystery that looks so black against him will be cleared up."
Mr. Marvel jumped to his feet, and walked excitedly about the room. There was something contagious in Dan's enthusiasm. So earnest, so thrilling was Dan's voice, that Mr. Marvel's heart beat high with the hope in which there was no reason.
"I have not done yet, sir. When you said to-night that you must go away from here, I was amazed, for it seemed to belong to part of my dream. Jo seemed to say to me, 'I can't come to you Dan; come to me.' And I want to go to him"--
Mr. Marvel stopped suddenly in his walk, and stood before Dan with a startled look on his face.
"I want to go to him, or as near to him as I can. The last place Jo was heard of was at Sydney, and the ship is supposed to have foundered somewhere near the Australian coast. Well, sir, if by any means it can be managed, we ought to go to Australia."
"All of us!" exclaimed Mr. Marvel.
"All of us," repeated Dan. "Why not? We are miserable here--unhappy here. We haven't, as you say, a friend in the place. Everybody is against Jo, and believe him to be bad, while we know him to good. I agree with you, sir, that if those we thought were our friends and who have spoken against Jo were to hold out their hands to me, I would not take them. It would be treasonable to Jo. To live on here in this way would only be adding to our unhappiness. I dare say we could manage to get along out there. Mr. Meddler says it is a rising place, and a splendid country for a poor man to get along in. You could take your tools, and could get work. I could take my birds, and should be able to get plenty there that I could train. Why, sir, it would be a splendid thing, and the best for all of us."
"I believe it would--I believe it would," said Mr. Marvel, his voice trembled with eagerness; "but where is the money to come from?"
"We have forty pounds of Jo's, sir, that he left for you and me; I wouldn't mind it being spent that way. That wouldn't be any thing like enough, I know; but I think I have a friend. However, sir, let us think over it for a little while. I am glad that we've had this talk. You'll forgive me, sir, won't you, for what I said in the first part of it?"