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"I'm glad it's not India. And yet the life out here gets a hold, like dram-drinking. One feels as if perpetual, unadulterated England might be just a trifle dull. But, of course, I know nothing about your home, Roy, except a vague rumour that your father is a Baronet with a lovely place in Sussex." "No Surrey," said Roy, and his throat contracted. Clearly the moment had come.
"Pretty soon he heard Jake's boat coming up the river and saw the light and he just waited there and when Jake come up alongside the float, the first thing Skinny heard him say was, Roy Blakeley is dead didn't you, Skinny?" But I could see that Skinny's eyes were shut now and he didn't hear. "Go on," I said. "So Skinny told him it wasn't true, and told him about the signal.
They brought James Roy with them in a litter; and, without being particularly molested, he was permitted to reside in the MacGregor's country along with his brothers. James MacGregor Drummond was attainted for high treason with persons of more importance.
Frederick Massingbird was really dead, and the true heir had come into his own. Roy stood in much inward perturbation. The eating of humble pie as Mrs. Roy had been kind enough to suggest would not cost much to a man of his cringing nature; but he entertained a shrewd suspicion that no amount of humble pie would avail him with Mr. Verner; that, in short, he should be discarded entirely.
"But, Jacqueline, I love you." Having said these words, the face of the young man emerged wholly from the eclipse of the former shadow. "What is this?" said the brave peasant from Domrémy, manifestly doubting whether she had heard aright; and her clear pure eyes were gazing full on Victor Le Roy, actually looking for an explanation of his words. "I love you, Jacqueline," he repeated.
Travel was resumed then, with Roy a little in advance of the pack-train. Presently he dismounted, threw his bridle, and cautiously peered ahead. Then, turning, he waved his sombrero. The pack-animals halted in a bunch. Dale beckoned for the girls to follow and rode up to Roy's horse. This point, Helen saw, was at the top of an intersecting canuon.
"What's the matter, Roger?" asked Roy; "why are you muttering away and shaking your head so?" "Ay, young master, I be in a sorrowful plight. My donkey has strayed away and I cannot find she nowheres. I've been up over the hills, and not a sign of she! And it's to-morrow that's market day, and how I'm to get my veggetubbles to town is more'n I can tell 'ee!"
"By the way," put in Grace curiously, "I know Betty promised that we wouldn't ask questions, but there is just one thing I want to know." "Speak, fair damsel," Roy replied, thinking meanwhile how much prettier Grace had grown. "We will promise to answer faithfully anything that is not connected with war." "When did you get in?" asked Grace, "and how did you get here?"
By the evening of the 7th we were on board the "Beagle" after an absence of twenty days, during which time we had gone three hundred miles in the open boats. On the 11th Captain Fitz Roy paid a visit by himself to the Fuegians and found them going on well; and that they had lost very few more things.
It was a lively meal: Roy, dropped from the clouds, the film of the East gone from his face, was simply Nevil again; even as young Cuthbert, with his large build and thatch of tawny hair, was a juvenile edition of Broome. And the older man, watching them, bandying chaff with them, renewed his youth for one careless golden hour.
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