Part 64 (2/2)

[Sidenote: A Belated Traveller]

One night, about a year previously, a belated traveller knocked at the door, was given admittance, and, in return for the hospitality shown him, had the audacity to fall in love with Blanche Chadleigh, Eva's twin sister. Then, indeed, a change came into Eva's life. Hitherto the two sisters had sufficed to each other; now she had to take a secondary position.

The intruder proved to be a wealthy settler, a Mr. Wells, a man of good family, though alone in the world. In due course the two were married, but Blanche was loath to leave her childhood's home. So it resulted in their remaining there while his own pretty villa, a little higher up the mountain, was being built.

And now Eva too had found her fate. A church ”synod” had been held; clergymen of all denominations and from all parts of the earth being present. The sisters had been asked to accommodate one or two clergymen; one of these was an old Scotch minister with snowy locks, and keen dark eyes.

How it came about Eva Chadleigh never knew; she often said he never formally proposed to her, but somehow, without a word on either side, it came to be understood that she should marry him.

”Now you're just coming home with me, la.s.sie,” said the old man to the woman of forty-five, who appeared to him as a girl. ”I'll make ye as happy as a queen; see here, child, two is company, and three is trumpery, as the saying goes. It isn't that your sister loves ye less,”

seeing a pained look cross her face, ”but she has her husband, don't ye see?” And Eva did see. She fell in love, was drawn irresistibly to her old minister, and it is his voice, with its pleasant Scotch accent, that is now rousing her from her reverie at the time our tale begins.

”Come away--come away, child. The night dews are falling; they're all wearying for ye indoors; come now, no more looking around ye, or I'll never get ye away to-morrow.”

”But you promise to bring me back some day, Mr. Cameron, before very long.”

”Ay, ay, we'll come back sure enough, don't fret yourself; but first ye must see the old country, and learn to know my friends.”

Amongst their neighbours at this time was a young man, apparently about thirty years old; he had travelled to Hobart in the same s.h.i.+p as Mr.

Cameron, for whom he had conceived a warm feeling of friends.h.i.+p. Captain Wylie had lately come in for some property in Tasmania, and as he was on furlough and had nothing to keep him at home, he had come out to see his belongings, and since his arrival at Hobart had been a frequent visitor at the chalet.

Though a settled melancholy seemed to rest upon him, his history explained it, for Captain Wylie was married, and yet it was years since he had seen his wife. They had both met at a ball at Gibraltar many years ago. She had been governess in an officer's family on the ”Rock”

while his regiment had been stationed there. She was nineteen, very pretty, and alone in the world. They had married after five or six weeks' acquaintance, and parted by mutual consent after as many months.

She had been self-willed and extravagant, he had nothing but his pay at that time, and she nearly ruined him.

[Sidenote: Captain Wylie]

It ended in recriminations. He had a violent temper, and she was proud and sarcastic. They had parted in deep anger and resentment, she to return to her governessing, for she was too proud to accept anything from him, he to remove to another regiment and go to India.

At first he had tried to forget all this short interlude of love and happiness, and flung himself into a gay, wild life: but it would not do.

He had deeply loved her with the first strong, untried love of a young impetuous man, and her image was always coming before him. An intense hunger to see her again had swept away every feeling of resentment.

Lately he had heard of her as governess to a family in Gibraltar, and a great longing had come over him just to see her once more, and to find out if she still cared for him.

He and Mr. Cameron had travelled out together on a sailing s.h.i.+p, and during the voyage he had been led to confide in the kindly, simple old gentleman; but so sacred did the latter consider his confidence that even to his affianced bride he had never recalled it.

All these thoughts crowded into the young officer's mind as he paced up and down in the stillness of the night, disinclined to turn in. He was startled from his reverie by a voice beside him.

”So you have really decided to come with us to-morrow?” It was Mr.

Cameron who spoke. ”Ye know, lad, the steamer is not one of the fine new liners. I doubt she's rather antiquated, and as I told ye yesterday, she is a sort of ambulance s.h.i.+p, as one may say. She is bringing home a good many invalided officials and officers left at the hospital here by other s.h.i.+ps. It seems a queer place to spend our honeymoon in, and I offered my bride to wait for the next steamer, which won't be for another fortnight or three weeks, and what do you think she said? 'Let us go; we may be of use to those poor things!' That's the sort she is.”

”She looks like that,” said Captain Wylie, heartily. ”I should like to go with you,” continued the young man. ”Since I have decided on the step I told you of, I cannot remain away a day longer. I saw the mate of the _Minerva_ yesterday, and secured my cabin. He says they have more invalids than they know what to do with. I believe there are no nurses, only one stewardess and some cabin boys to wait on us all.”

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