"Yes," said Greeba, faintly.
"It is true," said Michael Sunlocks. "And you know that when I first came to Iceland it was not to join the Latin school, but on an errand of mercy?"
"Yes," said Greeba.
"Well, the first of my duties was to find Jason's mother, and the next, was to find Jason himself."
"Jason!" cried Greeba.
"Yes, it was my father who sent me, for they had suffered much through his great fault, God forgive him! and I was to succor them in their distress. You know what followed?"
"Yes," said Greeba, softly.
"I came too late for the mother; the good woman was in her grave. I could not light upon her son, and lent an ear to the idle story that he was dead also. My search ceased, my zeal flagged, and, putting aside the solemn promise I made my father, I went on with my own affairs. But I never believed that he was dead, and I felt I should live to meet with him yet."
"Oh! oh!" cried Greeba.
"And many a time since my conscience has reproached me with a mission unfulfilled; and, awakening from many a dream of the hour and the place wherein I pledged my word to him that died trusting me, loving me, doting on me—heaven pity him, bad man though he was—as never a son was loved by a father before, it has not appeased me to say to myself, 'Michael, while you are here, given up to your ambitions, he is there amid the perils and hardships of the sea, and he is your brother, and the only kinsman left to you in the wide world.'"