"You, Ayrton?" said the colonist, no less astonished than Glenarvan.
"I," repeated Ayrton, in an excited but firm tone; "I, a Scotchman like yourself, my lord, one of the shipwrecked sailors of the Britannia!"
A FRESH FACE.
Mary Grant, half fainting with emotion, and overcome with happiness, sank into the arms of Lady Helena; while Captain Mangles, Robert, and Paganel went towards the man whom their host had called Ayrton.
He was a somewhat rough-looking, broad-shouldered man, of about forty-five, of more than medium height, and with piercing eyes sunk deeply beneath his projecting brows. His strength must have been unusual, even considering his stature, for he was all bone and sinew. His countenance, full of intelligence and energy, although the features were stern, prepossessed one in his favor. The sympathy that he elicited was still more increased by the traces of recent hardships imprinted upon his face. It was evident that he had suffered much, although he seemed a man able to brave, endure, and conquer suffering.
The travelers felt all this at first sight. Ayrton's appearance had interested them; and Glenarvan, acting as spokesman for all, pressed him with inquiries. This strange meeting had evidently produced a bewildering effect, and the first questions were, to some extent, without order.
"You are one of the sailors of the Britannia?" asked Glenarvan.
"Yes, my lord; Captain Grant's quartermaster," replied Ayrton.
"Saved with him from the shipwreck?"