“Take him on board again,” said Lindsay. “I daresay we shall find him employment for a short time.”
“If you will allow me to take charge of him,” interposed the missionary, who was standing by them at the time, “I can easily find him employment in the neighbourhood, so that he can come occasionally to see his child when we think it safe to allow him.”
“That will be the better plan,” said the doctor, “for as long as—”
A short sharp cry near the door of the room cut the sentence short.
All eyes were turned in that direction and they beheld Azinté gazing wildly at them, and standing as if transformed to stone.
The instant Kambira saw his wife he leaped up as if he had received an electric shock, bounded forward like a panther, uttered a shout that did full credit to the chief of a warlike African tribe, and seized Azinté in his arms.
No wonder that thirty-six little black heads leaped from thirty-six little white pillows, and displayed all the whites of seventy-two eyes that were anything but little, when this astonishing scene took place!
But Kambira quickly recovered himself, and, grasping Azinté by the arm, led her gently towards the bed which had just been occupied, and pointed to the little one that slumbered uneasily there. Strangely enough, just at the moment little Obo again whispered the word “mother.”
Poor Azinté’s eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets. She stretched out her arms and tried to rush towards her child, but Kambira held her back.
“Obo is very sick,” he said, “you must touch him tenderly.”