Part 83 (1/2)

”He is quite right, John,” said Mr Raydon. ”Let him stay for the present.”

Mr John looked from one to the other and then said seriously--”As you will, Dan. Good-bye then for the present, Mayne. There, keep up your heart. I'll talk to my brother, and I'll warrant that before long he will see the truth as I do.”

He stopped back to say this, and then went on after Mr Raydon, leaving me to fling myself on the bench, rest my elbows on the table, and bury my face in my hands. For it seemed to me that I had never felt so miserable before, and as if fate was playing me the most cruel of tricks. I felt indignant too with Mr Raydon, who had seemed to look upon his brother-in-law's faith in me with a cruel kind of contempt, treating him as if he were an enthusiast easily deceived.

And all this stung me cruelly. I was touched in my pride, and the worst part of it seemed to be that Mrs John might have so much faith in her brother, that she would be ready to believe his word before mine.

As I sat there thinking, I was obliged to own that matters did look black against me, and that with such terrible evidence in array, there was some excuse for Mr Raydon.

”But she might believe me,” I said, half aloud. But even as I said this, I recalled how he had evidently dreaded that I should betray the secret, and watched me and Gunson at our last meeting, which certainly did look suspicious when taken into consideration with the object of the latter's visits to the neighbourhood.

”Gunson shall come here and tell him everything. He shall make him believe,” I said to myself; and then in a despondent way, I felt that I could not go up to the camp without making Mr Raydon think worse of me at once, and then Mrs John would believe in him more and more. And it all seemed over, and as if the happy days I had looked forward to when the travellers came, would never be, and that I was the most unfortunate fellow that had ever breathed, when a hand was laid gently on my head, and a voice said--

”Mayne.”

I started to my feet, and there was Mrs John gazing at me sadly, but so changed since I had seen her before my start, that I could only look at her wonderingly, and when she held out her hand I caught it and was about to raise it to my lips, but she drew me to her, and the next moment she was seated on the bench I had left, and I was down upon my knees gazing up into her sweet face, feeling that while she lived I had one who would always take for me the part of the mother I had lost so long.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

AN INVASION OF SAVAGES.

It was quite two hours later that, as she rose to go back to Mr Raydon's quarters, Mrs John said--

”There, I believe in you, Mayne, and so does my husband. Be satisfied.”

”I never shall be till Mr Raydon tells me he was wrong,” I said.

”And he will as soon as he feels convinced, so be patient and wait. My brother is rather strange in his ways, and always was. When he becomes prejudiced through some idea he is very hard to move.”

”But I cannot stay here,” I said.

”You will not go and leave us now that we have come so far. We shall want your help.”

”But--”

”Come, Mayne, you will not object to suffering a little, I hope, for our sake. I dare say my brother will keep on in his stern, hard way, for a time; but when he is fully convinced, you will be glad that you bore with him.”

”I shall do exactly as you wish me to,” I said quietly; and I again looked wonderingly at her, she was so changed.

”We shall not lead you wrong, Mayne,” she said, smiling; and, at her wish, I walked back with her to Mr Raydon's place, where Mr John rose to make room for us, but Mr Raydon hardly glanced at me, and his manner was so strained during the next hour, as I sat listening to the conversation about the adventures during the long journey across the plain, that I was very glad to make an excuse so as to get away to where Mrs Dean was seated in the strangers' quarters relating her story to Esau.

”Ah,” she cried, as I entered; ”and what do you think of Mrs John?”

”I hardly knew her,” I said. ”She is indeed better.”

”Yes,” said Mrs Dean, drawing herself up proudly, ”I think I did my duty there.”

”I am sure you did.”

”Such a poor, thin, weak creature as she was till I began to nurse her.”