Lawrence did not answer, but turned away his head.
“I wish we had gone on,” said Mr Preston anxiously. “There would have been good medical advice on board.”
“No, no, I am not ill,” said Lawrence; and then in a broken voice, he cried excitedly, “I wanted to put it off as long as I could.”
“What! going home, my dear lad?” said Mr Burne eagerly. “You are afraid of our climate again. Then let’s stay.”
“No, no; it was not that,” said Lawrence. “I—I—there, I must say it. Yussuf has—has been such a good fellow, and we shall have to say good-bye at Smyrna.”
The professor was silent for a few minutes.
“Perhaps not for always,” he said at last. “Yes: he has been a thoroughly good fellow, and I, for one, should like to come out and have another trip with him. What do you say?”
“Yes, yes,” cried Lawrence eagerly; and he rushed out of the room, to be seen the next minute holding on by the grave-looking Turk’s arm and telling him the news.
“Look at that,” whispered Mr Burne to the professor, as he eagerly watched Yussuf’s countenance. “Now, if ever anyone tells me in the future that the Turks always hate the Christians, I can give him an instance to the contrary.”
The time soon glided by for the coming of the next boat, and in due course they landed at Smyrna, where the parting with Yussuf was more that of friends and friend, than of the employer and employed.