I thought of sending her a few pounds after getting back to the hotel. Then succeeded the reflection, that to do so would be more trouble, than to turn back, and give it to her myself. This thought decided me to return to the house, and see her once more. I retraced my steps; and again knocked at the door.
For some moments there was no answer; and I knocked again. I waited for nearly two minutes; and still there was no sign of my summons being answered.
I was on the point of bursting in the door, when it was opened by a man, whose huge frame almost filled the entrance from jamb to jamb. It was the Elephant! The truth instantly flashed upon my mind. It was for him my sister had been waiting! She—was the sempstress for whom he had been toiling—the young girl spoken of in his story—she, whom he had said, he was going to return and marry!
Martha had flung herself into a chair; and appeared insensible.
I cannot remember that either Olliphant or I spoke on seeing one another. Each was too much surprised at meeting the other. And yet neither of us thought, there was anything strange in the circumstance. Let those, who can, explain the singularity of our sentiments at that encounter. I cannot, and therefore shall not make the attempt. The attention of both of us was soon called to Martha, who had recovered consciousness.
“I thank God!” she cried out addressing me, “I thank God, Rowland, you have returned. You see, he has come back!” she continued, placing her hand on the broad shoulder of ‘the Elephant.’ “I knew he would. I told you he was certain to come; and that it was not possible for him to deceive me. This is my brother, Alex,” she added, turning to Olliphant. “He wanted me to leave you; but don’t blame him: for he did not know you, as I did. I’ve seen hard times, Alex; but the joy of this moment more than repays me for all.”
It was some time before Olliphant and I had an opportunity of communicating with each other: for Martha seemed determined that no one should have anything to say but herself.
“What fools we have been!” exclaimed Olliphant, as soon as his sweetheart gave him a chance of speaking. “Had you told me that your name was Stone, and that you had a sister in Sydney, how much more pleasure we should have had in one another’s society! You have nearly missed finding your brother; and either you or I have nearly lost your sister by keeping your name a secret. I know that for a man to talk to others of his family affairs is not strict etiquette; but the rules of that are often made by those who are only respected because they are unknown; or rather, because nothing concerning them can be told to their credit.”
“You and I have been friends,” continued the Elephant, still addressing his discourse to me. “Why should we have cared for etiquette? We ought to have acted independently of its requirements. Depend upon it, that open-hearted candour is ever preferable to secrecy.”
I assured Olliphant, that I was convinced of the truth of this doctrine by late events; and that it was also my belief, an honest man has very little on his mind that need be concealed from his acquaintances.