"I am so glad!" replied Clara.
"I suspect him now of being at the bottom of all our troubles."
"Don't let us talk of it, my love. It is too ugly. The present is so beautiful!"
"I must hurry back to San Francisco and try to get a leave of absence," said the husband, turning to pleasanter subjects. "I want full leisure to be happy."
"And you won't let them send you to San Diego?" begged the wife. "No more voyages now. If you do go, I shall go with you."
"Oh no, my child. I can't trust the sea with you again. Not after this," and he waved his hand toward the wreck of the brig.
"Then I will beg myself for your leave of absence."
Thurstane laughed; that would never do; no such condescension in his wife!
They went by land to San Francisco, and Clara kept the secret of her million during the whole journey, letting her husband pay for everything out of his shallow pocket, precisely as if she had no money. Arrived in the city, he left her in a hotel and hurried to headquarters. Two hours later he returned smiling, with the news that a brother officer had volunteered to take his detail, and that he had obtained a honeymoon leave of absence for thirty days.
"Barclay is a trump," he said. "It is all the prettier in him to go that he has a wife of his own. The commandant made no objection to the exchange. In fact the old fellow behaved like a father to me, shook hands, patted me on the shoulder, congratulated me, and all that sort of thing. Old boy, married himself, and very fond of his family. Upon my word, it seems to better a man's heart to marry him."