“Whatever they are, I accept them willingly, with all my heart, and, if it be in my power, they shall be fulfilled.”
Stuart spoke firmly, his eyes as steadfast as his words.
“Thank you, Stuart,” responded Sir Douglas, quietly. “I felt—I knew you would answer me so.” He paused a little, then went on slowly. “I leave England again at the end of the week on a search that has lasted my lifetime—hopeless, alas, in the years that are gone, but touched now with the blessedness of hope! Yes, thank Heaven, I have a clew!”
Stuart looked in wonder at his cousin’s face; it was illuminated with color, and there was an unusual glow in the eyes.
“I cannot bring myself to speak to you now, Stuart, on this subject; but if I am successful, I will open my heart to you; if not, and anything should happen to me, this letter”—taking an envelope from an inner pocket—“will tell you all—will give you the secret of my life. Guard it well, and, if the time should come soon, swear to do what I have asked you in it.”
“I swear,” said Stuart, solemnly, his hand closing over the letter.
“Now I start with a lighter heart than I have had for years. The days will pass quickly, and, when I reach Australia, who knows——”
“Australia!” broke in Stuart, his face drawn and pale. “You are going to Australia?”
“I said at the end of the week. What is it, Stuart?”
“Oh, that I were free to go with you!” muttered Stuart.