He threw himself on a sofa, and looked out over the moor. But he saw—
A long, low island, with the plumes of palms crowning the hill; and beneath, the white waves creeping up the coral crests to mingle with the lazy waters of the lagoon. A cottage, shaded with palms, close down by the beach, with magnolias clustering round the windows, and orchids far back in the moist shades, and creeping vines tangled in and out amongst the palms, and a strong sun, going down in an orange and crimson sky, and a cool, welcome breeze from the sea, that just lifts up the fans of the palms, and a stray curl on the forehead of a girl—for she was hardly more than a girl—who sat out on the tiny lawn, and at her feet the young naval officer, who had carried off his bride at the last season at the Castle and brought her here under southern skies, and believed that this was the world—and heaven. His ship lay at anchor on the eastern side; and here they were stationed for weeks, it may be for months, away from civilization and all its nuisances, and alone with Nature and the children of Nature, who came by degrees to love at least the gentle lady who was so kind to them and their brown babies. Alas for human happiness! One short year, and he was a widower, with the charge of a little babe.
"It was a bitter fate," he said to himself, "and I called her 'Bittra' in my rage. I must change that name."
He started, for the door opened and Bittra came in, immediately followed by the servant with tea.
"We've got a new neighbor, mignonne," he said, as he broke up his toast, "and must call immediately. Can you guess?"
"No, father," she said; but it fitted in with her apprehensions and made her shudder.
"Neither can I," he said, laughing. "But I have got mysterious hints that indicate a neighbor."
"Judith again," said Bittra. "She can never be explicit."
Then, after a long pause, she said, as if communing with herself:—
"I don't like new acquaintances. They are pretty certain to be troublesome. Can't we live for one another, father?"