The Gold Hunters' Adventures Part 12

"Let her be comforted," the convict cried, approaching her; "if her sorrow is ever so deep, it can be healed."

He closed his book as he spoke and approached his child, who sat with downcast eyes, and apparently unconscious of his presence.

"Daughter," he began; but at the sound of his voice so near, she raised her eyes hastily, and on her face could be seen the emotions and struggles to recollect where she had before heard his tones. She pressed her hand to her forehead as though forcing memory to reveal its secret, but suddenly the truth was revealed to her.

"Father," she cried, starting to her feet, and throwing her arms around that white-headed man's neck, venerable before his time. "Father! O G.o.d, is it you?"

She laid her aching head upon his bosom, and, with her arms around his neck, shed tears as freely as she did the day that she was separated from him, as she thought, forever.

The convict staggered back, and would have fallen, had not Fred's strong arm supported him. He glanced from face to face as though trying to read the meaning of the surprise, and then he turned his looks upon his daughter.

"Mary," he cried, after pushing the hair from her forehead, "can it, indeed, be my child--has the little girl whom I left in England grown to be a woman!"

He held her close in his embrace as though he feared that something would happen to prevent his seeing her again. He kissed the tears from her cheeks, and begged her to be calm, and to tell him about her voyage, and lastly to speak about her husband and children.

Her sobs were her only response. He grew impatient at her refusal to answer his interrogations, and then suspicions of foul play entered his imagination.

"There has been some wrong done you," he cried, appealing to his daughter.

She answered with tears and moans.

"Speak, and tell me who has dared to injure you," he cried vehemently.

"Was it your husband?"

His brow grew threatening and black, as he put the question.

There was no reply, but his daughter clung to his neck with a more convulsive grasp, as though she feared to lose her parent also.

He glanced from Smith to Fred, and from the latter to myself, as though debating whether we were the guilty party.

"Tell me," he cried, lifting her head from his shoulder, and seeking to get a glimpse of her face, "who has wronged you?"

There was no response. He placed her gently upon the blankets, and then with a face that was livid with rage, grasped his musket which had fallen to the ground.

"Which of you has dared to do this?" he asked, and the ominous click of the lock of the gun proved that he was in earnest, and that all of his worst pa.s.sions were aroused.

No one answered. I looked towards Smith, expecting to hear him explain every thing; but, to my surprise, he was silent; evidently too much astonished at the unexpected turn which the affair had a.s.sumed, to speak.

My look was misconstrued by the indignant convict, for before I could speak, the long gun was levelled at the breast of Smith, and in another moment all his hopes and fears would have been at an end, had not his child started up and rushed towards him.

"Not him!" she shouted, wildly. "O G.o.d, not him!"

He dropped the muzzle of his gun, but his fierce eyes still glared from Fred to me.

"Which of these two?"

He indicated us with a motion of the hand that held the gun, and looked in his child's face for confirmation.

"Neither, father--so help me Heaven, neither. Without the aid of these friends I should have perished."

He dropped the muzzle of the gun, and each of us felt thankful as he did so, for we had witnessed the accuracy of his aim the day before, and while the muzzle of the musket was pointed towards us, one of our lives was not worth insuring.

"You are tired and distressed," the convict said, addressing his daughter with a degree of tenderness that I thought wonderful after his late outbreak.

"My head," she murmured, "feels as though it would burst; while my heart is broken already."

"Rest a while, until I confer with your new-found friends, and then you shall accompany me to my home. It is a hut, but it is all I have to shelter you."

It was singular to witness how soon the recluse had once more become an active man of the world, and for a while forgotten his Bible and religious fanaticism.

"Tell me all that has happened," the convict said, motioning for us three to follow him a short distance from his daughter, so that our conversation could not be overheard by her.

Smith related the strange visit of the hound, and his leading us to the scene of the murder--our finding his child in an insensible condition--the story of her wrongs, and our surprise at finding that she was in search of him. He listened with clinched teeth, and only interrupted the narrative with groans of rage and anguish. When he knew all, we waited to see what course he would pursue.

To our surprise, he did not speak, but turned away as though about to seek his home.

"Stay one moment," cried Smith, laying his hand upon his shoulder.

"Well," cried the convict, impatiently.

"What do you propose to do?" we asked.

"Are you Americans, and ask that question?" he demanded.

"You think of seeking Black Darnley?" Smith continued.

"I do."

"Alone?"

"Alone."

"You shall not," cried Smith, with sudden energy. "You are no match for him and his gang."

"My daughter's injury must be avenged. I go alone to consummate it."

"Stay until to-morrow, and we will accompany you," Fred and myself cried with one accord.

The convict hesitated for a moment, then suddenly extended his hands, and while he wrung ours, promised a compliance. The next instant he had lifted his daughter in his arms, and was walking with the burden towards his hut.

We saw no more of him until towards night, and then he was in front of the hut cleaning his long, heavy musket.

CHAPTER VIII.

AN EXPEDITION.--A FIGHT WITH BUSHRANGERS.--DEATH OF BLACK DARNLEY.