They were still engaged in arranging their plans for immediate pursuit, when Ella entered the room where they were seated, with tidings which were even more unexpected than those they had that morning received.
“My father,” she said—so she always addressed De Walden—“the visitors you and Ernest have been so long expecting, have arrived, and are now with my mother. Will you come and see them?”
“The visitors, Ella!” exclaimed Warley, starting up. “Whom can you mean?—not Lavie surely—”
“Yes, he is one,” returned Ella, “and there is a captain, an English captain. He is Frank’s father or uncle—”
“Captain Wilmore!” cried Warley. “Has he fallen in with Frank?”
“No, we have told him that he and Gilbert have gone off by themselves, and that they cannot be very far off, and he means to go in search of them, I believe. But he wants to see you first.”
De Walden and Ernest hastened to the Queen’s apartment, and were soon exchanging a cordial grasp of the hand with the new-comers.
“God be praised for this!” said the missionary. “You cannot think how anxious I have been about you, Charles, though I did not tell the lads so. Unwilling as I was to leave this place, I had fully resolved that if the present month should pass without tidings of you, I would set off with them for Cape Town. I wish now I had told them of my intention; it would no doubt have prevented this foolish escapade of theirs. I knew I could trust Ernest to remain quiet, and I thought I could trust the others.”
“You must not blame them, sir,” said Warley. “I have no doubt they had the same idea which I have entertained myself, though I thought it best to say nothing about it, that treacherous orders had been given to your guide to prevent your ever reaching Cape Town.”
“I cannot wonder that either you or they thought that,” said De Walden, “after Chuma’s treatment of us.”