"What have we done, wifie, that we should be consigned to such quarters
as these?" said Captain Otway one day with a sigh. "I don't think I'm
too particular, but when I entered His Majesty's service I did not know
that I should be expected to play gaoler to the occupants of the
Government Pandemonium."
"It is a beautiful place," said Mrs Otway laconically. "It was till we
came and spoiled it. It is one great horror, 'pon my soul; and it is
degrading our men to set them such duty as this."
"Be patient. These troubles cure themselves."
"But they take such a long time over it," said the Captain. "It would
be more bearable if Phil had not turned goose."
"Poor Phil!" said Mrs Otway, with a sigh.
"Poor Phil? Pooh! you spoil the lad! I can't get him out for a bit of
shooting or hunting or fishing. Old Sir Gordon would often give us a
cruise in his boat, but no: Phil must sit moonstruck here. The fellow's
spoiled! Can't you knock all that on the head?"
"I perhaps could, but it must be a matter of time," said Mrs Otway,
going steadily on with her work, and mending certain articles of attire.
"But he must be cured. It is impossible."
"Yes," sighed Mrs Otway, "so I tell him. I wish it were not."
"My dear Mary--a convict's daughter!"
"The poor girl was not consulted as to whose daughter she would like to
be, Jack, and she is, without exception, the sweetest lassie I ever
met."
"Yes, she is nice," said Otway. "Mother must have been nice too."
"_Is_ nice," cried Mrs Otway, flushing. "I felt a little distant with
her at first, but after what I have seen and know--by George, Jack, I do
feel proud of our sex!"
"Humph!" ejaculated the Captain, with a smile at his wife's bluff
earnestness. "Yes, she's a good woman; very ladylike, too. But that
husband, that friend of his, Crellock! Poor creatures! it is ruining
them."
"Yes," said Mrs Otway dryly. "That's one of the misfortunes of
marriage; we poor women are dragged down to the level of our husbands."
"And when these husbands come out to convict settlements as gaolers they
have to come with them, put up with all kinds of society, give up all
their refinements, and make and mend their own dresses, and--"
"Even do their own chores, as the Americans call it," said Mrs Otway,
looking up smiling. "It makes me look very miserable, doesn't it,
Jack?"
She stopped her work, went behind her husband's chair, put her arms
round his neck, and laid her cheek upon his head.
Neither spoke for a few minutes, but the Captain looked very contented
and happy, and neither of them heard the step as Bayle came through the
house, and out suddenly into the verandah.
"I beg your pardon!" he cried, drawing back.
"Ah, parson! Don't go!" cried the Captain, as Mrs Otway started up,
and, in spite of her ordinary aplomb, looked disturbed. "Bad habit of
ours acquired since marriage. We don't mind you."
Mrs Otway held out her hand to their visitor.
"Why, it is nearly a fortnight since you have been to see us. We were
just talking about your friends--the Hallams."
"Have you been to see them lately?" said Bayle, eagerly.
"I was there yesterday. Quite well; but Mrs Hallam looks worried and
ill. Julia is charming, only she too is not as I should like to see
her."
She watched Bayle keenly, and saw his countenance change as she spoke.
"I am very glad they are well," he said.
"Yes, I know you are; but why don't you go more often?"
He looked at her rather wistfully, and made no reply. "Look here, Mr
Bayle," she said, "I don't think you mind my speaking plainly, now do
you? Come, that's frank."
"I will be just as frank," he replied, smiling. "I have always liked
you because you do speak so plainly."
"That's kind of you to say so," she replied. "Well, I will speak out.
You see there are so few women in the colony."
"Who are ladies," said Bayle quietly.
"Look here," said Otway, in a much ill-used tone, "am I expected to sit
here and listen to my wife putting herself under the influence of the
Church?"
"Don't talk nonsense, Jack!" said Mrs Otway sharply. "This is
serious."
"I'm dumb."
"What I want to say, Mr Bayle, is this. Don't you think you are making
a mistake in staying away from your friends yonder?"
He sat without replying for some minutes.
"No," he said slowly. "I did not give up my visits there till after I
had weighed the matter very carefully."
"But you seemed to come out with those two ladies as their guardian, and
now, when they seem most to require your help and guidance, you leave
them."
"Have you heard anything? Is anything wrong?"
"I have heard nothing, but I have seen a great deal, because I persist
in visiting, in spite of Mr Hallam's objection to my presence."
"I say, my dear, that man is always civil to you, I hope?" cried Otway
sharply.
"My dear Jack, be quiet," said Mrs Otway. "Of course he is. I visit
there because I have good reasons for so doing."
"Tell me," said Bayle anxiously.
"I have seen a great deal," continued Mrs Otway: "but it all comes to
one point." Bayle looked at her inquiringly. "That it is very dreadful
for those two sweet, delicate women to have come out here to such a
fate. The man is dreadful!"
"They will redeem him," said Bayle huskily. "Poor wretch! he has had a
terrible experience. This convict life is worse than capital
punishment. We must be patient, Mrs Otway. The habits of a number of
years are not got rid of in a few months. He will change."
"Will he?" said Mrs Otway shortly.
"Yes; they will, as I said before, redeem him. The man has great
natural love for his wife and child."
"Do you think this?"
"Yes, yes!" he cried excitedly, as he got up and began to pace the
verandah. "I stop away because my presence was like a standing reproach
to him. The abstinence gives me intense pain, but my going tended to
make them unhappy, and caused constraint, so I stop away."
"And so you think that they will raise him to their standard, do you?"
said Mrs Otway dryly.
"Yes, I do," he cried fervently. "It is only a matter of time."
"How can you be so self-deceiving?" she cried quickly. "He is dragging
them down to his level."
"Oh, hush!" cried Bayle passionately. Then mastering his emotion, he
continued in his old, firm, quiet way: "No, no; you must not say that.
He could not. It is impossible."
"Yes. You are wrong there, Bel," said the Captain. "Mrs Hallam is
made of too good stuff."
"I give in," said Mrs Otway, nodding. "Yes, you two are right. He
could not bring that sweet woman down to his level; but all this is very
terrible. The man is giving himself up to a life of sensuality.
Drinking and feasting with that companion of his. There is gambling
going on too at night with friends of his own stamp. What a life this
is for a refined lady and her child!"
Bayle spoke calmly, but he wiped the great drops of sweat from his brow.
"What can I do?" he said. "I am perfectly helpless."
"I confess I don't know," said Mrs Otway, with a sigh. "Only you and
Sir Gordon must be at hand to help them in any emergency."
"Emergency! What do you mean?" anxiously.
"_I_ don't know what may occur. Who knows? Women are so weak," sighed
Mrs Otway; "once they place their faith in a man, they follow him to
the end of the world."
"That's true, Bayle, old fellow--to convict stations, and become
slaves," said the Captain.
"Mr Bayle," said Mrs Otway suddenly. "I am under a promise to my old
friend, Lady Eaton, and I have done my best to oppose it all; but you
have seen how deeply attached Phil Eaton has become to Miss Hallam?"
"Yes," said Bayle slowly, and he was very pale now, "I have seen it."
"He shall not marry her if I can prevent it, much as I love the girl,
for it would be a terrible _mesalliance_; but he is desperately fond of
her, and, as my husband here says, he has taken the bit in his teeth,
and he will probably travel his own way."
"Don't you get fathering your coarse expressions on me," growled the
Captain; but no one heeded him.
"As I say, he shall not marry her if I can stop it; but suppose he
should be determined, and could get the father's consent, would you and
Sir Gordon raise any opposition?"
"Lieutenant Eaton is an officer and a gentleman."
"He is a true-hearted lad, Mr Bayle, and I love him dearly," said Mrs
Otway. "Only that he is fighting hard between love and duty he would
have been carrying on the campaign by now; but you must allow Fort
Robert Hallam is a terrible one to storm and garrison afterwards, for it
has to be retained for life."
"I understand your meaning," said Bayle, speaking very slowly. "It is a
terrible position for Mr Eaton to be in."
"Should you oppose it?"
"I have no authority whatever," said Bayle in the same low, dreamy tone.
"If I had, I should never dream of opposing anything that was for Miss
Hallam's good."
"And it would be, to get her away from such associations, Mr Bayle."
"Lady Eaton! Lady Eaton!" said the Captain in warning.
"Hush, Jack! pray."
"Yes," said Bayle; "it would be for Miss Hallam's benefit; but it would
nearly break her mother's heart."
"She would have to make a sacrifice for the sake of the child."
"Yes," said Bayle softly. "Another sacrifice;" and then softly to
himself, "how long? how long?"
He rose, and was gravely bidding his friends good-bye, when a sharp,
quick step was heard, and Eaton came in, coloured like a girl on seeing
Bayle, hesitated, and then held out his hand.
Bayle shook it warmly and left the verandah, Eaton walking with him to
the gate.
"Jack," said Mrs Otway softly, "it's my belief that the parson loves
Julia Hallam himself."
"You think so?"
"I'm sure of it."
"And will he marry her?"
"No. I'm about sure that she is desperately fond of our boy, and the
parson is too true a man to stand in the way."
"Nonsense!" said the Captain. "Such men are not made now."
"But they were when Christie Bayle was born," she said, nodding her head
quickly. "Yes," she said, after a pause, as they heard Eaton's
returning steps; "it's a knot, Jack."
"Humph!" he replied. "For time to untie."