h
windows--one the desk of a business-like roll-top escritoire; the
other, the flap of a Chippendale bureau, with a Chippendale arm-chair
before it. There were a few other pieces unmistakable English. In fact,
Eliza Countess of Gaverick, in addition to a handsome present of plate,
had sent her niece the furnishings of her old room at Castle Gaverick.
A few pictures and etchings hung on the other walls--among them several
wild seascapes--reminding one a little of Richard Doyle's exquisite
water colours--in which green billows and foamy wave-crests took the
shape of sea-fairies. Also some weird tree studies--mostly gum and
gidia, where gnarled limbs and bulbous protuberances turned into the
faces of gnomes and the forms of strange monsters. Maule had no doubt
that these were Lady Bridget's own. There was an upright grand
piano--the alleged cause of Steadbolt's conversion to Unionism, and all
about the place a litter of newspapers, books and work. The room was
filled with flowers--sheaves of wattle and of the pale sandal-wood
blossoms, as well as many sub-tropical blooms with which he was not
familiar. Blending with, yet dominating the mixture of perfumes, a
peculiar scent resembling incense, appealed to him; and this he did not
a first trace to a log of sandal-wood smouldering on the open hearth
more for effect than warmth, for the early spring evenings had scarcely
a touch of chill. The French windows stood open to the veranda, a room
in itself with its many squatters' chairs, hammocks and tables. Beyond,
stretched the green expanse of plain, utterly lonely, the waters of the
lagoon taking a reddish tinge where they reflected the lowering sun. It
seemed an inconceivable environment to have been chosen by the Lady
Bridget he had known in London, one of whose chief attractions to him
had been that she represented a certain section of the aristocracy of
Great Britain, decadent perhaps, but 'in the swim.'

She cam now along the veranda from the Old Humpey with the light,
rather hurried tread he remembered, talking rapidly when she joined him.

'I've been seeing about your room. I suppose you know enough now of the
Never-Never to understand that we are quite primitive in our habits.
You won't find a spring mattress--or water laid on--or any other
convenience of civilisation.'

'May I remind you that I've roughed it pretty well in the Andes.'

'Yes, but you have had so many luxuries since then that you will have
forgotten