I thought that the lady was going to die, and cursed myself for my awkwardness. She flung her arm about the girl to save herself from falling—a poor prop, for she, too, looked as though she were going to die, having understood some, if not all, of my talk. It must be remembered that this poor young thing had never even seen a white man before.
“Madam, madam,” I expostulated, “I pray you to bear up. After living through so much sorrow it would be foolish to decease of—joy. May I call in Brother John? He is a clergyman and might be able to say something appropriate, which I, who am only a hunter, cannot do.”
She gathered herself together, opened her eyes and whispered:
“Send him here.”
I pushed open the gate behind which the others were clustered. Catching Brother John, who by now had recovered somewhat, by the arm, I dragged him forward. The two stood staring at each other, and the young lady also looked with wide eyes and open mouth.
“Elizabeth!” said John.
She uttered a faint scream, then with a cry of “Husband!” flung herself upon his breast.
I slipped through the gate and shut it fast.
“I say, Allan,” said Stephen, when we had retreated to a little distance, “did you see her?”
“Her? Who? Which?” I asked.