Beryl protested indignantly against the cruelty of taking Coral from her. Coral's sorrow was less demonstrative, but she grieved sorely as the parting drew near.
"Australia is such miles and miles and miles away!" Beryl would declare. "I shall never see you again, Coral, if you go there; I know I never shall. And I thought you were always going to be my dear little sister, and we should never be parted. Oh, it is too dreadful!"
"And to think that the great wide sea will be always between us," said Coral; "that will make you seem such an immense way off."
"I shall never look at the waves without thinking of you," said Beryl. "I shall fancy you are right away there, as far as one can see, and I shall call across the waves—'Coral! Coral!' But you will not hear me."
"Perhaps I shall, if you call very loud," replied Coral.
The children had their photographs taken before they parted, and as souvenirs they exchanged lockets, made of solid gold, with a wreath of forget-me-nots wrought in turquoise, which Mr. Hollys bought for them. Beryl's locket held Coral's likeness, and Coral's Beryl's, and each promised the other to look at the portrait and kiss it every morning and night. But we must not dwell on that sad parting. The children's last farewell was painful to see. Mr. Hollys had forcibly to separate them at last.
Coral disappeared with her uncle. She would have the relief of fresh scenes and new interests; but Beryl, left alone amid the familiar scenes, was as one broken-hearted. It was long ere Beryl could be roused from her sorrow. She missed her little sister at every turn, and all attempts to cheer her proved vain. She loved to dwell on her loss, and she would wander disconsolately through the garden or along the beach, thinking, with a heavy heart, of the happy times that had passed away for ever.
But every one was so kind to her, and so anxious to give her pleasure, that gradually Beryl's natural buoyancy of spirit returned. Her father took her for many a ride with him, mounted on her little grey pony. When the hunting season commenced, he allowed Beryl to ride with him to the various meets, consigning her to Andrew's care, whilst he followed the hounds. Beryl thoroughly enjoyed these glimpses of the hunt. She longed to be grown-up, that she might ride after the hounds, as did some daring young ladies of the neighbourhood.
Children are seldom observant of the demeanour of their elders, or Beryl might have seen that her governess was not so happy as she had been when first she came to Egloshayle. One day the truth came to her knowledge in a surprising way.
It was a bright November day, one of those late autumn days which have a beauty of their own. There was a crisp freshness in the still air, the sky was clear and gloriously blue, the sea calm and bright, whilst the trees in the garden showed the rich russets and yellows peculiar to this season.