It was hard work to keep still while the others went out of hearing; but at last it seemed safe, and Abel panted out—
“Mary, dear, are you there?”
“Yes, yes, Abel. Oh, my dear brother, say one kind word to me!”
“Kind word? Oh, my lass, my lass, say that you forgive me!”
“Forgive you? Yes. But quick, dear, before those men come back.”
“Tell me, then,” said Abel, speaking with his back to the jungle, and his head bent down as if ill, while Bart leaned over him, trembling like a leaf, “tell me how you came to be here.”
“I came over in a ship to Kingston. Then I went to New Orleans. Then to Honduras. And it was only a fortnight ago that I found you.”
“But how did you come here?”
“I’ve got a small boat, dear. I asked and asked for months before I could find out where you were. I’ve been to other plantations, and people have thought me mad; but one day I stumbled across the sailors of a ship that comes here with stores from the station, and I heard them say that there were a number of prisoners working at this place; and at last, after waiting and watching for weeks and weeks, I caught sight of you two, and then it was a month before I could speak to you as I did the other day.”
“And now you have come,” said Abel, bitterly, “I can’t even look at you.”