Sir Gordon Bourne looked ten years younger as he walked towards the
cottage on the bluff. The hill was steep to climb, and the sun was
torrid in its heat; but he forgot the discomfort and climbed higher and
higher till he reached the rough fence that surrounded the grounds, and
there stood, with his hat off, wiping his brow and gazing at the
glorious prospect of sea and land.
"I feel almost like a good fairy this morning," he said, with a laugh.
"Ah! how beautiful it all is, and what a pity that such an Eden should
be made the home of England's worst."
He opened the rough gate and entered the grounds, that were admirably
kept by a couple of convict servants, watched over by Tom Porter,
crossed a patch of lawn, and was about to go up to the house, but a
pleasantly-placed rustic seat, beneath the shelter of a gum-tree, and
nearly surrounded by Austral shrubs, emitting their curious aromatic
scent in the hot sunshine, tempted him to rest; and in a few minutes,
overcome by the exertions of the morning, his head bowed down upon his
breast, and he dropped into a light doze.
He was aroused by voices--one low, deep, and earnest, the other low and
deep, but silvery and sweet, and with a tender ring in it that brought
up memories of a little, low-roofed drawing-room in the quiet
Lincolnshire town; and a curious dimness came over the old man's eyes.
The speakers were behind him, hidden by a veil of soft grey-green
leaves; and as Sir Gordon involuntarily listened, one voice said in
trembling tones:
"I dared not even look forward to such an end."
"But ever since others began to set me thinking of such things, I have
waited, for I used to say, some day he will ask me to be his wife."
"And you loved me, Julie?"
"Loved you? Did you not know?"
"But like this?"
"Like this? Always; for when you came, all trouble seemed to go, and I
felt that I was safe."
The voices paused, and Sir Gordon sat up, leaning upon his stick and
thinking aloud.
"Well, I have always hoped it would be so--no, not always; and now it
seems as if he were going to rob me of a child."
He sat gazing straight before him, seeing nothing of the soft blue sea
and sky, nor the many shades of grey and green that rolled before his
eyes, for they were filled with the face of Julia Hallam.
"Yes," he said at last. "Why not? Ah, Bayle! Where is Julie?"
"With her mother now. Sir Gordon--"
"Hush! I know. I've nought to say but this: God bless you both!"