‘There could not be a more favourable time, my dear sir,’ said Wilfred in the family council at a later hour. ‘I shall be here now. It is a matter of life and death to poor Beatrice as well as to the Colonel. You had better arrange to start by the first vessel, and to bring back some Arab horses on your return.’
‘It is the only thing to be done,’ said Rosamond, who had just returned from her sister’s room. ‘I wouldn’t answer for Beatrice’s reason if she is compelled to wait here. She has repressed her feelings until now, and the reaction is terrible. It is most fortunate that Mrs. Snowden is ready to leave Australia.’
Subjected to the family pressure, aided by the promptings of his own heart, Mr. Effingham was powerless to resist. The acclimatisation question was artfully brought up. He at once yielded, and before the evening was over, a letter was in the mail-bag, requesting their Sydney agent to take passages by the first outward-bound boat for India, and to advise by post, or special messenger, if necessary.
Beatrice, informed of this determination, gradually recovered that calmness allied to despair which simulates resignation. She busied herself unweariedly in preparation for the voyage, cherishing the hope of soothing the last hours of her lover, if indeed it was denied her, to watch over his return to the world of love and hope.
Mrs. Snowden arrived on the following day, and cordially acceded to the proposition made to her, to share the adventures of the voyage and of Indian travel.
‘If you knew,’ she said, ‘how grateful I feel for the opportunity of changing the scene of my sorrows and being of use to my friends after this lonely life of mine, you would not thank me. I would go many a mile by sea or land to nurse the Major myself. Between me and Beatrice he will be well looked after.’
All circumstances seemed favourably shaped for the errand of mercy. A ship was about to sail for China, whence the opium clippers might be trusted for a swift run to the historic land. Almost before the news of the intended journey had reached Yass, so that the parson could drive over and express his entire concurrence with the arrangement, the little party had set out for Sydney.
In the fulness of time the very last evening, before the Rockley family left Yass, arrived. All the party from The Chase had been in to say good-bye, and had returned. Some mysterious business kept Wilfred in town, and that special evening he of course spent at Rockley Lodge.
For it was not to be supposed that, on that momentous evening, the family declined to see their friends. In the ‘Maison Rockley’ the head of the house was so absorbed in his business pursuits that, except at dinner-time, and for an hour after, he could hardly be said to possess any family life whatever. He was grateful, therefore, for the presence of such friends who would take the burden of domesticity, in part, off his hands, and made no scruple of expressing, in the family circle, his thanks for such services.