He had been looking thoughtfully out for about an hour on this particular night before he came to the conclusion that he knew the right way. But once determined, he entered, and, closing the door softly, he stopped for a minute to pull himself together, rearranging his necktie, pulling down his vest, and carefully fastening the top and bottom b.u.t.tons, which had a rollicking habit of working themselves clear of their respective holes. His hair, too, required a little attention, being carefully smoothed with his fingers. This done, he moistened his hands, as if about to haul a rope, before going straight up to where his master was seated in front of the fire which the cool spring night made comfortable, who, as he sat there gazing very thoughtfully in between the bars, said:

"Well, Tom, what is it?"

"Been a-thinking, Sir Gordon--hard."

"Well, what about?"

"'Bout you, Sir Gordon. It's these here east winds getting into your bones again; as if I might be so bold--"

"There, there, man, don't stand hammering and stammering like that! You want to say something. Say it."

"'Bout the east wind, Sir Gordon, and whether you wouldn't think it as well to take a trip."

"Yes, yes, man, I'm going on one--Mediterranean--in a few days," said the old man dreamily.

"Glad to hear it, Sir Gordon; but, if I might make so bold, why not make a longer trip?"

"Not safe--yacht not big enough, my man. There, that will do: I want to think."

"I mean aboard ship, Sir Gordon. Why shouldn't we go as far as Australia? We've seen a deal of the world, Sir Gordon, but we haven't been there."

Tom Porter's master gave him a peculiar look, and then nodded towards the door, when the man made a nautical bow, with a very apologetic smile, and backed out.

"Went a bit too nigh the rocks that time. It warn't like me--but, lor!

what a man will do when there's a woman in the way!"

He had hardly settled himself in his pantry when the bell rang, and he went up, expecting a severe talking to.

"Means a wigging!" he said, as he went up slowly, to find Sir Gordon pacing the room.

Tom Porter did not know it, but his words had fallen just at that time when his master was pondering upon the possibility of such a trip, and, though he would not have owned to it, his man's words had turned the balance.

"Pack up at once," he said.

"Long cruise or short, Sir Gordon?"

"Long."

"Ay, ay, Sir Gordon. Special dispatches, Sir Gordon?"

"No; longer cruise than usual, that's all."

"He's going! I'd bet ten hundred thousand pounds he's going!" said Tom Porter; "and I'm done for! She was a bit more easy last time we met; and I shall make a fool o' myself--I know I shall!"

He stood in the middle of his pantry, turning his right and left hands into a pestle and mortar, and grinding something invisible therein.

Then, after a long silence:

"Its fate, that's about what it is!" said Tom Porter; "and that's a current that you can't fight agen."

After which philosophical declaration he began to pack, working well on into what he called the morning watch, and long after Sir Gordon had been comfortably asleep.

The next day Tom Porter had orders to go with his master to the Admiralty, where he waited for about a couple of hours; and two days later he was on his way to Plymouth with the sea-chests, as he termed them, perfectly happy, and with his sh.o.r.e togs, as he called his livery, locked up in one of the presses in the chambers in St James's.

His sailing orders were brief, and he put into port at the chief hotel to wait for his master; and he waited. Meantime there had been the painful partings between those who loved, and who, in spite of hopeful words, felt that in all human probability the parting was final.

Through the interest of Sir Gordon, a pa.s.sage had been obtained for Mrs Hallam and her daughter on board the _Sea King_, a fine ship, chartered by the Government to take out a large detachment of troops, as well as several important officials, bound to the Antipodes on the mission of trying to foster what promised to be one of our most important colonies.

"You will be more comfortable," Sir Gordon said. "There will be ladies on board, and I will get you some introductions to them, as well as to the Governor at Port Jackson."

Mrs Hallam gave Bayle a piteous look, as if asking him to intercede for her.

Bayle, however, seemed not to comprehend her look, and remained silent.

It was a painful task, but Millicent Hallam was accustomed to painful tasks, and, turning to Sir Gordon, she said, in a quiet, resigned way:

"You forget my position. I know how kindly all this is meant; but I must not be going out on false pretences. My fellow-pa.s.sengers should not be deceived as to who and what I am. I may seem ungrateful to you, but it would have been far better for me to have gone out in some common ship."

"My dear child," cried Sir Gordon, wringing his hands, "don't be unreasonable! Do you suppose the womenkind on board the _Sea King_ are going to be so contemptible as to visit the sins of--My dear Bayle, you have more influence than I!" he cried hastily; "tell Mrs Hallam everything is settled, and she must go, and--there, there, we've had knots and tangles enough, don't, pray, let us have any more!"

The old gentleman, who seemed terribly perplexed, turned away, but paused as he felt a little hand upon his arm.

"Don't speak angrily to mamma," whispered Julia; and the old man's countenance became wholly sunny again.

"No, no," he said; "but you two must leave matters to Mr Bayle and me.

We are acting for the best, my child. You cannot conceive what it would have been to let you go out as your mother proposed. It was madness!"

"It is for Julie's sake," Mrs Hallam said to herself, when she consented to various little arrangements, though she shivered at the thought of being brought face to face with her fellow-pa.s.sengers.

"Indeed, we are acting with all the foresight we can bring to bear,"

Bayle said, in answer to another remonstrance made in the hurry and bustle of preparation.

"Yes," she replied; "but you are doing too much. You make me tremble for the consequence."

Bayle smiled, and bade her take comfort. He was present with her almost daily, to report little matters that he had arranged for her as to money and baggage. Since he had accompanied her and Julia back to town he had been indefatigable, working with the most cheery good-humour, and smiling as he reported the success of the furniture sale; how capitally he had managed about the little investments of the wreck of Mrs Hallam's money; and how he had obtained letters of credit for her at the Colonial Bank.

Julia watched Bayle's countenance day by day with a curious, wistful look, that would at times be pitiful, at other times full of resentment; and one day she turned to the doctor--the old gentleman and Mrs Luttrell having insisted upon coming to town, and following their child to Portsmouth, where they were to embark.

"I believe, grandpa," she said half angrily, "that Mr Bayle is tired of us, and that he is glad to get us off his hands."

"Nothing would ever tire Mr Bayle, my dear," said Mrs Luttrell reprovingly.

Julia turned to her quickly and put her arms round the old lady's neck, the tears in her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g over.

"No; it was very unkind and ungenerous of me," she said. "He has always been so good."

In the midst of what was almost a wild excitement of preparation, mingled with fits of despondency, Millicent Hallam noticed this too, and found time to feel hurt.

"He is such an old friend," she said to herself. "He has been like a brother; and it seems hard that he should appear to be less moved at our approaching farewell than Mr Thickens and his wife."