No wonder! Christie Bayle could not a.n.a.lyse his own feelings, only that the old sorrow that was dead and buried years upon years ago seemed to be reviving and growing till it was becoming an agonising pang.

End of Volume Two.

VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

LADY EATON'S SON.

It was a long voyage, for in those days the idea of shortening a trip to the Antipodes had not been dreamed of, and the man who had suggested that the time would come when powerful steamers would run through the Mediterranean, down a ca.n.a.l, along the Red Sea, across the Indian Ocean, touch at Singapore, and after threading their way among the tropic Indian Islands, pa.s.s down the eastern side of the Australian continent within shelter of the Great Barrier Reef, would have been called a madman.

But long and tedious as it was made by calms, in what seemed to be a region of eternal summer, Christie Bayle prayed that the voyage might be prolonged.

And then, Julia--who had been to him as his own child, whose young life he had seen increase and develop till the bud was promising to be a lovely flower--seemed so happy. Everything was so new to the young girl, fresh from her life of retirement, and now thrust into a society where she was at once made queen. There was a smile and a pull at the forelock from every sailor, while every soldier of Captain Otway's company was ready to salute as soon as she came on deck.

The bluff old captain of the _Sea King_ took her at once under his protection, and settled her place at table; while his officers vied with each other in their attentions. As for Philip Eaton, he was more than satisfied with the behaviour of Mrs Captain Otway, and he did not believe her when, in a free-and-easy way, she clapped him on the shoulder and said:

"It is not on your account, Phil Eaton--handsome youth, who falleth in love with every pretty woman he sees--but because I like the little lady. However, my boy, your flirtation is nearly over."

"Nearly over, Mrs Otway!" he cried warmly. "Flirtation? Don't call it by that wretched name."

"There, I told Jack so, and he laughed at me. It is serious, then?"

"Serious! I mean to be married this time."

"Pooh! nonsense, Phil. Absurd!"

"Was it absurd for you to make a runaway match with John Otway!"

"No; but then we loved each other pa.s.sionately."

"Well, and do not we?"

"Hum! No, my dear boy. There, Phil, you see I am like a mother to you.

You think you love the little thing desperately."

"And I do so. It is no thinking. I never saw a woman who moved me as she does with her sweet, innocent ways."

"Is it so bad as that?" said Mrs Otway, smiling.

"Bad! no, it's good. I'm glad I've seen the woman at last of whom I can feel proud. She is so different from any girl I ever met before."

"Don't singe your wings, my handsome b.u.t.terfly," said Mrs Otway, laughing. "Why, my dear Phil, I don't think the girl cares for you a bit."

"But I am sure she does."

"Has she owned to it?"

"No," he said proudly. "I am in earnest now, and I reverence her so that I would not say a word until I have spoken to her mother and her friends."

"Humph! yes: her friends," said Mrs Otway. "What relatives are Sir Gordon Bourne and the Reverend Christie Bayle to the fair queen of my gallant soldier's heart?"

"I don't know," he said impatiently.

"Why are they all going out to Port Jackson?"

"I don't know. How should I?"

"Oh! they might have told you in conversation."

"I did not trouble myself about such things. Hang it all! Mrs Otway, how could I be so petty?"

"Is it not natural that a man should be anxious to know who and what are the relatives of the lady he thinks of as his future wife?"

"Oh, some sordid fellows would think of such things. I'm not going to marry her relations."

"In some sort a man must," said Mrs Otway coolly. "Look here," cried the young officer, "why do you talk to me like this?"

"Hullo! what's the matter?" cried Captain Otway, who had come up un.o.bserved; "quarrelling?"

"No," said Mrs Otway, "I am only giving Phil Eaton a little of the common-sense he seems to have been losing lately. Why do I talk to you like this, my dear Phil? I'll tell you. Because the day before we sailed Lady Eaton came to me and said, `You are a woman of experience, Mrs Otway; keep an eye upon my boy, and don't let him get entangled in any way.'"

"My mother said that to you?"

"Indeed she did; and now that you are running your head into a very pretty silken skein, and tangling yourself up in the most tremendous manner, I think it is time for me to act."

"Quite right, Phil," said the Captain. "You wanted checking. The young lady is delicious, and all that is innocent and nice; but you are not content with a pleasant chat."

"No," said the Lieutenant firmly; "I mean to marry her."

"Indeed!" said Otway dryly. "Who and what is she?"

"A lady of the greatest refinement and sweetness of character."

"Granted; but who is her mother?"

"Mrs Hallam, a lady whom, in spite of her sadness of disposition and distant ways, it is a privilege to know."

"Will you go on, Bel?" said Otway.

"No! Oh, Captain, you are talking grand sense! I'll listen."

"Well, then, here is another question. Who is Mr Hallam?"

"How should I know? Some merchant or official out at Port Jackson.

They are going to join him. Julie--"

"Hullo!" cried Mrs Otway, "has it come to that?"

"Miss Hallam," continued the young officer, flushing, "told me she had not seen her father for years."