"No," said the major; "that would be giving even savages too dangerous a present."
"We will seek some other deserted island," resumed Glenarvan, who could not help smiling at MacNabb's delicacy. "I promised Ayrton his life, and I will keep my promise."
"At all events, let us beware," added Paganel. "The New Zealanders have the barbarous custom of misleading ships by moving fires. The natives of Maria Theresa may understand this deception."
"Bear away a point," cried the captain to the sailor at the helm. "To-morrow, at sunrise, we shall know what is to be done."
At eleven o'clock the passengers and the captain retired to their cabins. At the bow the first watch was pacing the deck, while at the stern the helmsman was alone at his post.
In the stillness Mary and Robert Grant came on deck. The two children, leaning upon the railing, gazed sadly at the phosphorescent sea and the luminous wake of the yacht. Mary thought of Robert's future; Robert thought of his sister's; both thought of their father. Was that beloved parent still living? Yet must they give him up? But no, what would life be without him? What would become of them without his protection? What would have become of them already, except for the magnanimity of Lord and Lady Glenarvan?
The boy, taught by misfortune, divined the thoughts that were agitating his sister. He took her hand in his.
"Mary," said he, "we must never despair. Remember the lessons our father taught us. 'Courage compensates for everything in this world,' he said. Let us have that indomitable courage that overcomes all obstacles. Hitherto you have labored for me, my sister, but now I shall labor for you."
"Dear Robert!" replied the young girl.
"I must tell you one thing," continued he. "You will not be sorry, Mary?"