They hired a yacht, not a very fast one. There were no Thistles in those days. But she was most clean and comfortable, and the party had favouring winds all the way round, and in due time arrived safely in Lowestoft harbour.
Then nothing less than a coach and postillions would suit MʻHearty.
“It shan’t be at your expense though, Captain Jack,” he said, “nor yours either, Tom. Why, I have made oceans of prize-money, and an old bachelor like me doesn’t really know how to spend it.”
The surprise began when they reached the lodge gate. “Why,” cried Jack, “there is some one living here. I expected to find the place in ruins.” The surprise increased when they reached the lawn, for here the general and sly old Richards met them laughing. But when the party were ushered into the drawing-room, and saw everything in its place as it had been years ago, and the general and Richards “ready to die” stifling a laugh, why, then the surprise reached a climax.
“Pinch me, Tom,” cried Jack. “I’m in a dream.”
What a happy first-coming that was, to be sure! but there were many more to follow.
The autumn tints were on the trees, evening primroses and dahlias nodded by the pathways, and many a rare old flower besides.
One evening Jack, with his sister and Gerty, was walking in the bright moonlight along the broad and grassy path that swept under the lime avenue. Flora had gone on, and Jack had given Gerty his arm.
Suddenly they came to the old dial-stone. And here they stopped, for Jack had remembered his dream. He was Gerty’s equal now in every way, and so he told her his dream, and he told her something else; told her of all his manly love that neither absence nor the vicissitudes of war could ever banish from his heart. And much more, too, he told her that we need not pry into. Flora went on and on. Just once she glanced behind. Gerty was very close to Jack.