When he was alone with his wife M. Zermatt spoke to her as follows:
"My dear Betsy, an opportunity is afforded us of returning to Europe, of seeing our fellow-countrymen and our friends once more. But it behooves us to think that our position is altered now. New Switzerland is no longer an unknown island. Other ships will be putting in here before long."
"Of what are you doubtful?" Mme. Zermatt asked.
"I am trying to decide whether or not we should take advantage of this opportunity."
"My dear," Betsy replied, "ever since yesterday I have been thinking earnestly, and this is the result. Why should we leave this land, where we are so happy? Why should we try to renew relations which time and absence must have broken altogether? Have we not come to an age when one longs too ardently for rest to face the risks of a long voyage?"
"Ah! my dear wife," cried M. Zermatt, embracing her, "you have understood me! Yes, it would be almost like ingratitude to Heaven to forsake our New Switzerland! But it is not we alone who are concerned. Our children——"
"Our children," Betsy rejoined. "I quite understand that they should long to return to their own country. They are young; they have the future before them; and although their absence must be a great grief to us, it is only right to leave them free."
"You are right, Betsy; I agree with you."
"Let our boys sail on the Unicorn, my dear. If they go, they will come back."
"And we must think of Jenny, too," said M. Zermatt. "We cannot forget that her father, Colonel Montrose, has been in England two years, has been mourning her for two years. It is only natural that she should want to see her father again."