"That is true, and I speak of her only as a child. Chaytor, there was something so sweet in Annette's nature that she grew in my heart as a beloved sister might have done. To that length I went; no farther. Have you ever felt the influence of a child's innocent love? It purifies you; it is a charm against evil thoughts and evil promptings. Annette's affection was like an amulet lying on my heart."
"Your object in returning to England would be to seek her out?"
"I should endeavour to find her. Her silence may have been enforced. She may be unhappy; I might be of service to her. There are other reasons. I seem in this far-off country to be cut off from sympathy, from humanizing influences. The life does not suit me. A man, after all, is not a stone; he has duties, obligations, which he should endeavour to fulfil. You have heard me speak of my uncle. He was kind to me for a great many years, up to the point of my offending him. He is old: consideration is due to him. I should go to him and say, 'I do not want your money; give it to whom you will, but let us be friends.'"
"A hundred to one that he would show you the door," said Chaytor, who found in these revelations more than sufficient food for thought.
"At all events I should have done my duty; but I think you are mistaken. He has a tender heart under a rough exterior, and was always fond of me, even, I believe, when he cast me off. I should not wonder if he has not sometimes thought, 'Why did Basil take me at my word? Why did he not make advances towards me?' He would be right in so thinking; I ought to have striven for a reconcilement. But I was as obstinate as he was himself, and perhaps prouder because I was poor. In a sort of way I defied him, and as good as said I could do without him. I was wrong; I should have acted differently.
"You seem to me, Basil," said Chaytor, slowly, "to fall somewhat into the same error in speaking of him as you do when you speak of Annette. You speak of the little girl as if she was a woman; you speak of your uncle as if he is living."
"If he is dead I should learn the truth."
"I suppose that you would not leave the colony unless you were rich?"
"I think not; I should be placing myself in a false position. We will not talk of it any more to-night, Chaytor. I am tired and shall go to bed."
"So shall I. The conversation has been a bit too sentimental for me. Besides, when you say that you are cut off from sympathy and human influences here, you are not paying me a very great compliment, after the sacrifices I have made for you. But it is the way of the world."