."

"If you send all the wretches in England here, you must expect the Trail
of the Serpent," said Sylvia. "It isn't the fault of the colony."

"Oh, no; certainly not," returned Meekin, hastening to apologize. "But
it is very shocking."

"Well, you gentlemen should make it better. I don't know what the
penal settlements are like, but the prisoners in the town have not much
inducement to become good men."

"They have the beautiful Liturgy of our Holy Church read to them twice
every week, my dear young lady," said Mr. Meekin, as though he should
solemnly say, "if that doesn't reform them, what will?"

"Oh, yes," returned Sylvia, "they have that, certainly; but that is only
on Sundays. But don't let us talk about this, Mr. Meekin," she added,
pushing back a stray curl of golden hair. "Papa says that I am not to
talk about these things, because they are all done according to the
Rules of the Service, as he calls it."

"An admirable notion of papa's," said Meekin, much relieved as the door
opened, and Vickers and Frere entered.

Vickers's hair had grown white, but Frere carried his thirty years as
easily as some men carry two-and-twenty.

"My dear Sylvia," began Vickers, "here's an extraordinary thing!" and
then, becoming conscious of the presence of the agitated Meekin, he
paused.

"You know Mr. Meekin, papa?" said Sylvia. "Mr. Meekin, Captain Frere."

"I have that pleasure," said Vickers. "Glad to see you, sir. Pray sit
down." Upon which, Mr. Meekin beheld Sylvia unaffectedly kiss both
gentlemen; but became strangely aware that the kiss bestowed upon her
father was warmer than that which greeted her affianced husband.

"Warm weather, Mr. Meekin," said Frere. "Sylvia, my darling, I hope you
have not been out in the heat. You have! My dear, I've begged you--"

"It's not hot at all," said Sylvia pettishly. "Nonsense! I'm not made
of butter--I sha'n't melt. Thank you, dear, you needn't pull the blind
down." And then, as though angry with herself for her anger, she
added, "You are always thinking of me, Maurice," and gave him her hand
affectionately.

"It's very oppressive, Captain Frere," said Meekin; "and to a stranger,
quite enervating."

"Have a glass of wine," said Frere, as if the house was his own. "One
wants bucking up a bit on a day like this."

"Ay, to be sure," repeated Vickers. "A glass of wine. Sylvia, dear, some
sherry. I hope she has not been attacking you with her strange theories,
Mr. Meekin.