without him, whilst he occupied himself on the plateau, wishing doubtless, to put the finishing stroke to his work. Indeed, thanks to him, all the ground was dug up and ready to be sowed when the time came.
It was on the 20th of December that all the arrangements at the corral were completed. The engineer told the stranger that his dwelling was ready to receive him, and the latter replied that he would sleep there that very evening.
On this evening the colonists were gathered in the dining-room of Granite House. It was then eight o'clock, the hour at which their companion was to leave them. Not wishing to trouble him by their presence, and thus impose on him the necessity of saying farewells which might perhaps be painful to him, they had left him alone, and ascended to Granite House.
Now, they had been talking in the room for a few minutes, when a light knock was heard at the door. Almost immediately the stranger entered, and without any preamble, "Gentlemen," said he, "before I leave you, it is right that you should know my history. I will tell it you."
These simple words profoundly impressed Cyrus Harding and his companions.
The engineer rose. "We ask you nothing, my friend," said he; "it is your right to be silent."
"It is my duty to speak."
"Sit down, then."
"No, I will stand."
"We are ready to hear you," replied Harding.
The stranger remained standing in a corner of the room, a little in the shade. He was bareheaded, his arms folded across his chest, and it was in this posture that in a hoarse voice, speaking like someone who obliges himself to speak, he gave the following recital, which his auditors did not once interrupt:
"On the 20th of December, 1854, the steam-yacht, Duncan, belonging to a Scotch nobleman, Lord Glenarvan, anchored off Cape Bermouilli, on the west coast of Australia. On board this yacht were Lord Glenarvan and his wife, an English major, a French geographer, a young girl and a young boy. These two last were the children of Captain
