lergyman can talk like a man,
can't he? Why do they send such people here? I am sure they could do
much better at home. Oh, by the way, papa dear, poor old Danny's come
back again. I told him he might go into the kitchen. May he, dear?"

"You'll have the house full of these vagabonds, you little puss," said
Vickers, kissing her. "I suppose I must let him stay. What has he been
doing now?"

"His wife," said Sylvia, "locked him up, you know, for being drunk.
Wife! What do people want with wives, I wonder?"

"Ask Maurice," said her father, smiling.

Sylvia moved away, and tossed her head.

"What does he know about it? Maurice, you are a great bear; and if you
hadn't saved my life, you know, I shouldn't love you a bit. There, you
may kiss me" (her voice grew softer). "This convict business has brought
it all back; and I should be ungrateful if I didn't love you, dear."

Maurice Frere, with suddenly crimsoned face, accepted the proffered
caress, and then turned to the window. A grey-clothed man was working in
the garden, and whistling as he worked. "They're not so badly off," said
Frere, under his breath.

"What's that, sir?" asked Sylvia.

"That I am not half good enough for you," cried Frere, with sudden
vehemence. "I--"

"It's my happiness you've got to think of, Captain Bruin," said the
girl. "You've saved my life, haven't you, and I should be wicked if I
didn't love you! No, no more kisses," she added, putting out her hand.
"Come, papa, it's cool now; let's walk in the garden, and leave Maurice
to think of his own unworthiness."

Maurice watched the retreating pair with a puzzled expression. "She
always leaves me for her father," he said to himself. "I wonder if she
really loves me, or if it's only gratitude, after all?"

He had often asked himself the same question during the five years of
his wooing, but he had never satisfactorily answered it.

CHAPTER II. SARAH PURFOY'S REQUEST.

The evening passed as it had passed a hundred times before; and having
smoked a pipe at the barracks, Captain Frere returned home. His home was
a cottage on the New Town Road--a cottage which he had occupied since
his appointment as Assistant Police Magistrate, an appointment given to
him as a reward for his exertions in connection with the Osprey mutiny.
Captain Maurice Frere had risen in life. Quartered in Hobart Town,
he had assumed a position in society, and had held several of those
excellent appointments whic