Here the young man explained to the attentive Bumpus the course that he was to follow, and having got him thoroughly to understand his part, he sent him away to execute it.
Meanwhile he and his mother went in search of Mr Mason, who at the time was holding a consultation with the chiefs of the native village, near the site of his burnt cottage. The consultation had just been concluded when they reached the spot, and the missionary was conversing with the native carpenter who superintended the erection of his new home.
After the morning greeting, and a few words of general conversation, Mrs Stuart said—
“We have come to have a talk with you in private; will you walk to Alice’s tree with us?”
“Certainly, my friend; I hope no new evils are about to befall us,” said the missionary, who was startled by the serious countenances of the mother and son, for he was ignorant of the close relation in which they stood to Gascoyne, as, indeed, was every one else in the settlement, excepting Montague and his boatswain, and Corrie, all of whom were enjoined to maintain the strictest secrecy on the point.
“No, I thank God, all is well,” replied Mrs Stuart; “but we have come to say that we are going away.”
“Going away!” echoed the missionary in surprise. “When?—where to?—why? You amaze me, Mary.”
“Henry will explain.”
“The fact is, Mr Mason,” said Henry, “circumstances require my absence from Sandy Cove on a longer trip than usual, and I mean to take my mother with me. Indeed, to be plain with you, I do not think it likely that we shall return for a long time—perhaps not at all, and it is absolutely necessary that we should go secretly. But we could not go without saying good-bye to you.”
“We owe much to you, dear Mr Mason,” cried the widow, grasping the missionary’s hand and kissing it. “We can never, never forget you; and will always pray for God’s best blessings to descend on you and yours.”