"Anywhere, anywhere!" cried Gilbert, enthusiastically. "You have the distinguished appearance, the grand air, which made me mistrust you on my lamented brother's plantation. But we mistrusted each other, eh, friend Basil?"
"Well, we did; but as you say, 'let bygones be bygones.'"
"They shall be. If we speak of them it shall be to teach us lessons. I will leave you and my niece together for, say, half-an-hour, and then we will drive out. The day is fine--this re-union is fine--everything is fine. My dear niece, I salute you."
Annette's cup of happiness was full. She had experienced a momentary pang when she heard herself called Miss Bidaud, but she knew that it was right. She was no longer a child, and although she had always commenced her letters with "My dear Basil," she would have hesitated, now that they were together, had she sat down to write to him. They had so much to talk about! All the old days were recalled, and if once or twice Chaytor tripped, his natural cleverness and Annette's assistance soon put him right. In such a matter as the last meeting in the forest between Basil and Annette, of which he was a secret witness, he was very exact, his faithful memory reproducing the smallest detail.
"Do you remember this?" he asked, showing her the locket.
She gazed at her mother's portrait with tears in her eyes.
"I was afraid it was lost," she said, "when uncle threw it away."
"What a hunt I had for it," said Chaytor. "For hours and hours did I look about, and almost despaired of finding it. I'll tell you what came into my mind. If I don't find the locket I shall never see Annette again; if I do, I shall. And when it was in my hands I looked upon it as a good omen. I believe it has brought me straight to you. It has never left me; day and night I have worn it round my neck."
"Old Corrie helped you to find it," said Annette. "Oh, yes, of course, but it was I, not he, who first saw it. Lying among the leaves. By-the-by, is that magpie still in the land of the living?"
"Yes, I have it in my room." Annette blushed as she spoke, thinking of the endearing words of Basil she had taught the bird to speak. "It is all the dearer to me now that its poor master has gone." Then Chaytor began to speak of his trials and troubles in Australia, and of his fear that he would never be able to return to England.