Truth obliges us to say it was the Major that dealt the blow, though strangely contrary to his usual strict politeness.
"Geographer!" said McNabbs, in a tone of the most supreme contempt.
But Paganel had not even felt the Major's hand. What was that compared to the geographical blow which had stunned him?
He had been gradually getting nearer the truth, however, as he learned from Captain Grant. He had almost entirely deciphered the indecipherable document. The names Patagonia, Australia, New Zealand, had appeared to him in turn with absolute certainty. CONTIN, at first CONTINENT, had gradually reached its true meaning, _continuelle. Indi_ had successively signified _indiens, indigenes_, and at last the right word was found--INDIGENCE. But one mutilated word, ABOR, had baffled the geographer's sagacity. Paganel had persisted in making it the root of the verb ABORDER, and it turned out to be a proper name, the French name of the Isle Tabor, the isle which had been a refuge for the shipwrecked sailors of the BRITANNIA. It was difficult to avoid falling into the error, however, for on the English planispheres on the DUNCAN, the little isle was marked Maria Theresa.
"No matter?" cried Paganel, tearing his hair; "I ought not to have forgotten its double appellation. It is an unpardonable mistake, one unworthy of a secretary of the Geographical Society. I am disgraced!"
"Come, come, Monsieur Paganel," said Lady Helena; "moderate your grief."
"No, madam, no; I am a mere ass!"
"And not even a learned one!" added the Major, by way of consolation.
When the meal was over, Harry Grant put everything in order in his house. He took nothing away, wishing the guilty to inherit the riches of the innocent. Then they returned to the vessel, and, as Glenarvan had determined to start the same day, he gave immediate orders for the disembarkation of the quartermaster. Ayrton was brought up on the poop, and found himself face to face with Harry Grant.
"It is I, Ayrton!" said Grant
"Yes, it is you, captain," replied Ayrton, without the least sign of surprise at Harry Grant's recovery. "Well, I am not sorry to see you again in good health."
"It seems, Ayrton, that I made a mistake in landing you on an inhabited coast."
"It seems so, captain."
"You are going to take my place on this uninhabited island. May Heaven give you repentance!"
"Amen," said Ayrton, calmly.
Glenarvan then addressed the quartermaster.
"It is still your wish, then, Ayrton, to be left behind?"
"Yes, my Lord!"
"And Isle Tabor meets your wishes?"
"Perfectly."
"Now then, listen to my last words, Ayrton. You will be cut off here from all the world, and no communication with your fellows is possible. Miracles are rare, and you will not be able to quit this isle. You will be alone, with no eye upon you but that of God, who reads the deepest secrets of the heart; but you will be neither lost nor forsaken, as Captain Grant was. Unworthy as you are of anyone's remembrance, you will not be dropped out of recollection. I know where you are, Ayrton; I know where to find you-- I shall never forget."
"God keep your Honor," was all Ayrton's reply.
These were the final words exchanged between Glenarvan and the quartermaster. The boat was ready and Ayrton got into it.
John Mangles had previously conveyed to the island several cases of preserved food, besides clothing, and tools and firearms, and a supply of powder and shot. The quartermaster could commence a new life of honest labor. Nothing was lacking, not even books; among others, the Bible, so dear to English hearts.
The parting hour had come. The crew and all the passengers were assembled on deck. More than one felt his heart swell with emotion. Mary Grant and Lady Helena could not restrain their feelings.
"Must it be done?" said the young wife to her husband. "Must the poor man be left there?"
"He must, Helena," replied Lord Glenarvan. "It is in expiation of his crimes."
At that moment the boat, in charge of John Mangles, turned away. Ayrton, who remained standing, and still unmoved, took off his cap and bowed gravely.