, still nibbling, "for Sir
John was saying something about a chaplaincy there, and I understand
that the climate is quite endurable."

The convict servant, who had entered with some official papers for the
Major, stared at the dainty clergyman, and rough Maurice laughed again.

"Oh, it's a stunning climate," he said; "and nothing to do. Just the
place for you. There's a regular little colony there. All the scandals
in Van Diemen's Land are hatched at Port Arthur."

This agreeable chatter about scandal and climate seemed a strange
contrast to the grave-yard island and the men who were prisoners for
life. Perhaps Sylvia thought so, for she struck a few chords, which,
compelling the party, out of sheer politeness, to cease talking for the
moment, caused the conversation to flag, and hinted to Mr. Meekin that
it was time for him to depart.

"Good afternoon, dear Miss Vickers," he said, rising with his sweetest
smile. "Thank you for your delightful music. That piece is an old, old
favourite of mine. It was quite a favourite of dear Lady Jane's, and
the Bishop's. Pray excuse me, my dear Captain Frere, but this strange
occurrence--of the capture of the wreckers, you know--must be my
apology for touching on a delicate subject. How charming to contemplate!
Yourself and your dear young lady! The preserved and preserver, dear
Major. 'None but the brave, you know, none but the brave, none but the
brave, deserve the fair!' You remember glorious John, of course. Well,
good afternoon."

"It's rather a long invitation," said Vickers, always well disposed to
anyone who praised his daughter, "but if you've nothing better to do,
come and dine with us on Christmas Day, Mr. Meekin. We usually have a
little gathering then."

"Charmed," said Meekin--"charmed, I am sure. It is so refreshing to meet
with persons of one's own tastes in this delightful colony. 'Kindred
souls together knit,' you know, dear Miss Vickers. Indeed yes. Once
more--good afternoon."

Sylvia burst into laughter as the door closed. "What a ridiculous
creature!" said she. "Bless the man, with his gloves and his umbrella,
and his hair and his scent! Fancy that mincing noodle showing me the way
to Heaven! I'd rather have old Mr. Bowes, papa, though he is as blind as
a beetle, and makes you so angry by bottling up his trumps as you call
it."

"My dear Sylvia," said Vickers, seriously, "Mr. Meekin is a clergyman,
you know."

"Oh, I know," said Sylvia, "but then, a c