e have. That wretched little foggy England isn't the whole world."

The great steamship went shearing on through the midnight sea, heaving
to the Atlantic surge, as she stood upon her course. But the other
vessel swiftly speeding northward--soon would she arrive with a
forestalment in a measure--in the unaccountable non-appearance of one of
her passengers--of the terrible news which must eventually be broken to
Violet's mother.

But whereas Violet's own will was the sole principle which had been
allowed to govern her life from the day of her birth, it must be
admitted, sorrowfully, that her mother was now only reaping what she had
sown.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

CONCLUSION.

Three years have gone by.

Now three years cover a pretty fair section of time. A good deal can be
got into that space. But the hand of Time, with its changes and
chances, has passed but lightly over peaceful, prosperous Sunningdale.
It has, perchance, added a touch of hoar-frost to Christopher Selwood's
brown beard, but only through the harmless agency of wear and tear, as
that jolly individual puts it. For the seasons have been good, the
stock healthy, and crops abundant--and on the strength of such highly
favourable conditions we may be sure that genial Christopher's
characteristic light-heartedness and general contentment has undergone
no rebate. This can hardly be said to apply to the brace of diminutive
heroes whose thirst for battle was so inconsiderately nipped in the bud
on the memorable night of the attack upon the house. For now they must
find outlet for their martial ardour in fistic combat with their
school-fellows--or in the more risky line of trying how far they can
trench upon the patience of a cane-wielding master. In a word, they are
both at school; a state of life which, in common with youth in general
and Colonial youth in particular, they emphatically do not prefer. The
same lot has befallen Effie, and she, too, is being put through the
scholastic mill, though, thanks to the greater adaptability of her sex,
the process is far less distasteful to her than to those two young
scapegraces, Fred and Basil. So that, save in holiday time, Sunningdale
is quieter than when we saw it last? Is it? There is plenty of small
fry left to create its share of clatter in the place of those absent
under pedagogic discipline.

One change, however, has Time in his course brought round. Marian
Fanning is a bride of two months.