But Lady Helena did not consider herself defeated. She wished to struggle to the last with this heartless man, and the next day she went herself to Ayrton’s cabin, to avoid the scene that his appearance on deck occasioned.
For two long hours this kind and gentle Scotch lady remained alone face to face with the chief of the convicts. Glenarvan, a prey to nervous agitation, lingered near the cabin, now determined to thoroughly exhaust the chances of success, and now upon the point of drawing his wife away from this painful and prolonged interview.
But this time, when Lady Helena reappeared, her features inspired confidence. Had she, then, brought this secret to light, and stirred the dormant feeling of pity in the heart of this poor creature?
MacNabb, who saw her first, could not repress a very natural feeling of incredulity. However, the rumor soon spread among the crew that the quartermaster had at length yielded to Lady Helena’s entreaties. All the sailors assembled on deck more quickly than if Tom Austin’s whistle had summoned them.
“Has he spoken?” asked Lord Glenarvan of his wife.
“No,” replied Lady Helena; “but in compliance with my entreaties he desires to see you.”
“Ah, dear Helena, you have succeeded!”
“I hope so, Edward.”
“Have you made any promise that I am to sanction?”
“Only one: that you will use all your influence to moderate the fate in store for him.”
“Certainly, my dear Helena. Let him come to me immediately.”
Lady Helena retired to her cabin, accompanied by Mary Grant, and the quartermaster was taken to the saloon where Glenarvan awaited him.
LVII
A Discouraging Confession
As soon as the quartermaster was in Lord Glenarvan’s presence his custodians retired.
“You desired to speak to me, Ayrton?” said Glenarvan.
“Yes, my lord,” replied he.
“To me alone?”
“Yes; but I think that if Major MacNabb and Mr. Paganel were present at the interview it would be better.”
“For whom?”
“For me.”
Ayrton spoke calmly. Glenarvan gazed at him steadily, and then sent word to MacNabb and Paganel, who at once obeyed his summons.
“We are ready for you,” said Glenarvan, as soon as his two friends were seated at the cabin table.
Ayrton reflected for a few moments, and then said:
“My lord, it is customary for witnesses to be present at every contract or negotiation between two parties. That is why I requested the presence of Mr. Paganel and Major MacNabb; for, properly speaking, this is a matter of business that I am going to propose to you.”
Glenarvan, who was accustomed to Ayrton’s manners, betrayed no surprise, although a matter of business between this man and himself seemed strange.
“What is this business?” said he.
“This is it,” replied Ayrton. “You desire to know from me certain circumstances which may be useful to you. I desire to obtain from you certain advantages which will be valuable to me. Now, I will make an exchange, my lord. Do you agree or not?”
“What are these circumstances?” asked Paganel, quickly.
“No,” corrected Glenarvan: “what are these advantages?”
Ayrton bowed, showing that he understood the distinction.
“These,” said he, “are the advantages for which I petition. You still intend, my lord, to deliver me into the hands of the English authorities?”
“Yes, Ayrton; it is only justice.”
“I do not deny it,” replied the quartermaster. “You would not consent, then, to set me at liberty?”
Glenarvan hesitated before answering a question so plainly asked. Perhaps the fate of Harry Grant depended upon what he was about to say. However, the feeling of duty towards humanity prevailed, and he said:
“No, Ayrton, I cannot set you at liberty.”
“I do not ask it,” replied the quartermaster, proudly.
“What do you wish, then?”
“An intermediate fate, my lord, between that which you think awaits me and the liberty that you cannot grant me.”
“And that is—?”
“To abandon me on one of the desert islands of the Pacific, with the principal necessaries of life. I will manage as I can, and repent, if I have time.”
Glenarvan, who was little prepared for this proposal, glanced at his two friends, who remained silent. After a few moments of reflection, he replied:
“Ayrton, if I grant your request, will you tell me all that it is for my interest to know?”
“Yes, my lord; that is to say, all that I know concerning Captain Grant and the Britannia.”
“The whole truth?”
“The whole.”
“But who will warrant—?”
“Oh, I see what troubles you, my lord. You do not like to trust to me—to the word of a malefactor! That is right. But what can you do? The situation is thus. You have only to accept or refuse.”
“I will trust you, Ayrton,” said Glenarvan, simply.
“And you will be right, my lord. Moreover, if I deceive you, you will always have the power to revenge yourself.”
“How?”
“By recapturing me on this island, from which I shall not be able to escape.”
Ayrton had a reply for everything. He met all difficulties, and produced unanswerable arguments against himself. As was seen, he strove to treat in his business with good faith. It was impossible for a person to surrender with more perfect confidence, and yet he found means to advance still further in this disinterested course.
“My lord and gentlemen,” added he, “I desire that you should be convinced that I am honorable. I do not seek to deceive you, but am going to give you a new proof of my sincerity in this affair. I act frankly, because I rely upon your loyalty.”
“Go on, Ayrton,” replied Glenarvan.
“My lord, I have not yet your promise to agree to my proposition, and still I do not hesitate to tell you that I know little concerning Harry Grant.”
“Little!” cried Glenarvan.
“Yes, my lord; the circumstances that I am able to communicate to you are relative to myself. They are personal experiences, and will scarcely tend to put you on the track you have lost.”
A keen disappointment was manifest on the features of Glenarvan and the major. They had believed the quartermaster to possess an important secret, and yet he now confessed that his disclosures would be almost useless.
However that may be, this avowal of Ayrton, who
