also for ever entertained by new
scenes; and domestic mischances do not weigh very heavily on people
whose possessions are few and their intellectual interests many. It is
true that there were ladies in the Captain's regiment who passed by
sea and land from one quarter of the globe to another, amid strange
climates and customs, strange trees and flowers, beasts and birds,
from the glittering snows of North America to the orchids of the Cape,
from beautiful Pera to the lily-covered hills of Japan, and who in no
place rose above the fret of domestic worries, and had little to tell
on their return but of the universal misconduct of servants, from
Irish "helps" in the colonies, to _compradors_ and China-boys at
Shanghai. But it was not so with the Captain's wife. Moreover, one
becomes accustomed to one's fate, and she moved her whole
establishment from the Curragh to Corfu with less anxiety than that
felt by Mrs. Bull over a port-wine stain on the best table-cloth.

And yet, as years went and children came, the Captain and his wife
grew tired of travelling. New scenes were small comfort when they
heard of the death of old friends. One foot of murky English sky was
dearer, after all, than miles of the unclouded heavens of the South.
The grey hills and overgrown lanes of her old home haunted the
Captain's wife by night and day, and home-sickness (that weariest of
all sicknesses) began to take the light out of her eyes before their
time. It preyed upon the Captain too. Now and then he would say,
fretfully, "I _should_ like an English resting-place, however small,
before _every-_body is dead! But the children's prospects have to be
considered." The continued estrangement from the old man was an
abiding sorrow also, and they had hopes that, if only they could get
to England, he might be persuaded to peace and charity this time.

At last they were sent home. But the hard old father still would not
relent. He returned their letters unopened. This bitter disappointment
made the Captain's wife so ill that she almost died, and in one month
the Captain's hair became iron-grey. He reproached himself for having
ever taken the daughter from her father, "to kill her at last," as he
said. And (thinking of his own children) he even reproached himself
for having robbed the old widower of his only child. After two years
at home his regiment was ordered to India. He failed to effect an
exchange, and they prepared to move once more--from Chath