Was I right?

by Mrs. O. F. Walton

Mr. Stanley seemed to notice, with the ready perception which he always showed, that something had happened to disturb us, and that we should like to be left alone, for in a few minutes he made an excuse about having to call on some one at the other end of Port Said, and took leave of us.

"Well, Evelyn," said Sir William, as soon as we were alone, "you were quite wrong. You need not have been so agitated, dear; it was quite a mistake." And he told her what he had heard in the shop.

"It is all a tale, papa," she said, when he had finished; "Donald is afraid of being found out, and he has put her up to telling that story, in case any inquiries should be made about him. He would not be back till Monday, did she say? Of course not; he knows quite well that the steamer will not start until early on Monday morning."

But Sir William would not be convinced. His wish was, I think, father to the thought, for he would have been very much puzzled as to how he ought to act had he indeed found his nephew, and he was therefore only too glad to believe that he was still in ignorance of Mr. Trafford's hiding-place.

I saw Evelyn glancing several times at the French shop as we sat there talking of other things, and I was glad for her sake when Sir William proposed that we should return to the ship.

We spent a very comfortless Sunday on board the wretched little steamer. It was impossible to find any quiet place below, for the saloon was filled by the large party which we had seen at the hotel at Port Said, and most of them spent the day in playing at cards and chess, and in talking over their journey in loud voices; and they made so much noise that we found it was utterly useless to attempt to read or to be quiet there. So we went on deck and found a shady corner, where we were at least in comparative quiet.

But the lower deck was the scene of great confusion and noise, for a number of pilgrims, who were on their way to Jerusalem, were coming on board. There were Greek pilgrims, Latin pilgrims, and Moslem pilgrims, all of them dressed in what seemed to us the most fantastic manner. They were regular Eastern and dreadfully filthy, and they were all jabbering their various languages at the top of their voices. Mr. Stanley told us that as Easter draws near, the steamers are crammed with these pilgrims, on their way to the different shrines and holy places. They come from great distances, and go through wonderful fatigue, and spend large sums of money to obtain, as they vainly hope, forgiveness of sin.

"I often think," Mr. Stanley said, "that their earnestness puts us to shame."

"Yes," said Evelyn, as she watched a fresh detachment come on board, "and do you not long to tell them how sin can really be forgiven?"

"I do indeed," said Mr. Stanley; "but, Miss Trafford, have you any idea what a difficult matter that would be? How many different languages do you think I should have to learn before I could speak to all these pilgrims?"