Of the fowls not one remained; but the pigeons still clung to the abode; albeit they were now very wild, instead of so tame that they would settle on the heads and shoulders of those who formerly inhabited the den.

There was property still in that den, guns, pistols, swords, handcuffs, plated ware, saddles, &c. &c.; but Flower was not disposed to carry anything away, except the "broken handcuffs, which the reader may remember had been filed from his wrist on the night of his first appearance in that locality.

From the den, Flower proceeded on foot to the top of the mountain, leaving Sheriff in an enclosure, eating some rich grass which grew therein.

'Yes, that is the rock,' said Flower to himself, pointing to a huge mass of limestone. Yes, that is it this is the way.'

The awful stillness of the place had struck Flower when he was there talking to Millighan, but now it was even more striking, more awful. Had Flower's heart been susceptible of fear, at that moment, and in that spot, would the passion have stolen over him. As it was he could not help muttering, 'What is the matter with me? I feel very curious-what is it ?' he asked of himself, grounding his double-barrelled fowling piece, 'What is it? There's nobody here, and if there was, what do I care ?'

'I care,'-the echo answered him. Flower started, and then smiled at himself for so doing. Susey, dearest!' cried Flower at the top of his voice, and echo responded the last word.

'All safe ?' cried Flower.

Safe' was the reply.

(The echo amongst these limestone rocks is something wonderful.)

At a slow pace, and with a reveFlower rential feeling, George directed his steps to the spot where lay the bones of Millighan. He placed his gun beside a rock; and, unarmed, went to gaze on the relics of mortality which had attracted him thither.

There was the skeleton of the man, quite perfect. Corruption had rotted the flesh, and with the flesh

the clothes had been consumed. The eagle had not visited the dead body, nor had the wild dog. There lay all that remained of the man, as he fell, the rusted musket by his side. But mingled with the bones of the man were the bones and the skull of the dog-the little terrier who had died of starvation and grief, near the man whom he loved so well. Fresh from a scene of slaughterwith human blood recently shed upon his hands and his clothes, Flower sat beside the skeletons of Millighan and his dog, and relieved the heart of its heaving by shedding scalding tears.

You were a man,' said Flower, staring wildly into the sockets which once contained Millighan's bright eyes- and you, poor dog, you were as clever and as brave as he was. Better to die with one you loved than live without him. Dear Nettles!'

Flower put his hand gently on the little dog's skull; but did not disturb the position which, in the last moment, the dog had taken up on the breast of his master.

What is this P' cried Flower; here is the ball-the ball which flew from that carbine, and stopped the current of his life;' and inserting carefully his fingers between the ribs of Millighan's skeleton, he took up, and held between his forefinger and thumb, the fatal and slightly battered piece of lead.

Flower was in the very act of putting the bullet into his pocket; but something checked his hand; some mysterious power seemed to whisper, 'No'-and Flower replaced the bullet with the same care, lest he should disturb the bones, that he used when he removed it.

6

Millighan, when he fell, had in his pocket a small silver flask, which contained spirits. On this the worms could not banquet, and there it was-blackened, but still perfect. 'Into this I will put his epitaph," said Flower, and some day or other when these bones may be stumbled across, those who find them shall not suppose he was some black fellow. So Flower wrote on a piece of paper with a pencil the following words: This man's name was Millighan; he was killed in a fair fight with one George Flower. The dog's name was 'Nettles.' George Flower

1853.]

wrote this himself. My hand writing is well known.'

Grief, as well as ardent spirits, has its intoxicating properties; and Flower, lost sight of the fact that the day was drawing to a close. For full three hours he remained beside the skeleton-speculating as more educated philosophers have done before him, upon matters which we have no inclination to discuss.

When Flower left the skeletons of Millighan and the dog it was almost dark, and quite dark before he arrived at the Den. To find his way to Major Grimes's was utterly impossible. In the broad daylight it would be far from an easy matter, for the trees which had been marked had, in the course of nature, shed their bark several times since Flower was an inhabitant of the den. Flower therefore was compelled to stay in the den all night; into the den he took Sheriff, and, in the absence of any other companion, talked to the horse incessantly, and asked the little animal, several times, whether he would not rather die with him, Flower, as Nettles had done with Millighan, than live with any other master?

At about twelve o'clock Flower became very hungry. He had not tasted food for eighteen hours. He became faint, and then ravenous, and would have given any sum of money for even a biscuit and a glass of wine. He made a fire (as the aborigines do, by rubbing two pieces of dry stick together till they ignite), and was sitting over it, thinking how he could satisfy the craving of hunger, when he suddenly got up, lighted a wax candle (there were several pounds of wax candles in the den), and searched about in the desperate hope that 'something to eat' might be discovered. There was a box of macaroni, which with his own hands Flower had taken from the dray of Captain Piper; but it was rotten, and full of weavels, and when he handled it, it became like 'seconds flour.' He mixed this with water, kneaded, and was frying it, when he heard the pigeons cooing in their cote, outside the den.

That horrible impulse of our nature which always steals over us under similar circumstances, now stole over Flower, and he was bent on taking

665

the life of one of those creatures which have been 'sanctified to our uses'-and he put down the fryingpan, ejaculating, 'By Jove! a grilled pigeon!'

Flower went out stealthily from the den, put his hand into the cote, and withdrew a plump bird. He brought it into the den with the intention of wringing its neck, but lo and behold! he recognised 'poor old Moses,' a pigeon so christened by the women, and around the bird's leg there was a gold ear-ring.

I would not hurt you or any of your numerous family for the whole world,' said Flower, releasing the patriarch pigeon, which, strange to say, seemed not afraid of George Flower; for instead of flying away in terror, he partook of the macaroni pancake, dipped his beak into the water, and pouted about the table, in apparently an ecstasy of satisfaction.

The next morning, at daybreak, Flower saddled Sheriff, and rode to Major Grimes's. His absence had caused great alarm, and people had been despatched in all directions to search for him, for the Major was fearful that Flower had been 'lost in the bush.'

The bushrangers were 'given up' to the men who had assisted in their capture, and Flower took leave of Major and Mrs. Grimes, after thanking them over and over again for not being angry with him for taking away from them the best hearted and prettiest girl that ever breathed.'

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE death of Roberts, and the two others who fell by his side, and the capture of the remainder, was published in all the papers, (the Sydney Gazette, the Monitor, and the Australian.) But Mrs. Flower and Emily knew nothing of this; for Flower, previous to setting out upon his expedition, had stopped his subscription,' and had given orders to his servants that no newspaper was to be allowed in the house during his absence. It would be difficult to say which of the two welcomed Flower back the more heartily, Susan or Emily.

*

'Why are you out of sorts,

George?' said Susan, when Flower, after dinner, was sitting silently over the fire, smoking his pipe; 'you have been away for more than a month, and, now that you have come back, you wont speak a word.'

'Go to bed, Susey, dear,' said George, with a kind look, which Susan understood. I want to have some conversation with Mrs. Harcourt.'

Susan lighted her candle-bade George and Emily good night-and left the room.

'Now look here,' said Flower, 'there's no use in hesitating, I am going home to England, and mean to take Sue. Will you go with us,

or not ?'

'Not so long as that man lives.'

He does not live: he is dead!' Emily stood up. Her face became very pale; she trembled, and said, Dead! Is Reginald dead?'

Flower, observing her emotion, dropped his pipe, caught her in his arms, and cursed himself for breaking, so abruptly, intelligence of a nature which he ought to have known would shock the feelings of a sensitive woman.

A scene ensued-Susan was called -and Emily conveyed to her room, in a state of insensibility.

The shock over, Emily's mind experienced a relief, when she reflected on Roberts's death. Her chief anxiety, of late, had been lest he should perish by the hands of the public executioner.

Emily now no longer objected to accompanying Flower and his wife to England, though she feared that her parents would never forgive her, or listen to any of her entreaties.

Flower sold his bank stock and houses, and the proceeds were 51,000l. With bills upon England for this amount, he embarked on board the old Lady Jane Grey. The stern cabins were engaged, and Emily had one of them and a good-sized cabin, in the fore part of the vessel, was secured for Sheriff, whom Flower could not leave behind him.

Off Cape Horn the Lady Jane encountered very boisterous weather, and Susan, who was in delicate health, bceame seriously ill. Emily, who had of late gained strength and spirits, watched her with much care

and tenderness, and thus repaid a portion of the obligations she was under to Susan and her husband.

But, alas! neither the skill of the surgeon, nor the attentions of Emily and of George, could hold in its mansion the fleeting breath of Susan Flower. She died, in the arms of her manly husband, and was committed to the troubled deep, on the following afternoon.

For several days after the death of his wife, Flower never uttered a single word, or shed a single tearnor could he be prevailed upon to take food. His cheek-bones began to protrude, and beneath his eyes came dark lines, and his face was as pale as that of a corpse. He sat down upon a chest, in his cabin, and there remained, in a perfect lethargy of

woe.

Emily became alarmed, and did all in her power to rouse her protector, and console him. She who had recently been as helpless as an infant, was now as active and intelligent as an experienced nurse; while he who had lately been as strong as a young lion, was nerveless and childish, in his overwhelming affliction.

Old Captain Dent, this voyage, had his wife on board. She was a motherly lady, who had seen much sorrow in her day, arising from domestic bereavement, and she hinted to Emily that if Flower could be moved to tears, his present mood would speedily disappear. Emily acted on this hint-took Mrs. Dent into Flower's cabin-and began to tell Mrs. Dent, in Flower's presence, of all Susan's good qualities: how kind and gentle was Susan, and how beautiful and good-natured.

At first Flower did not heed Emily's discourse. There he sat, gazing on the floor, and wearing that peculiar vacant look which had overspread his countenance since Susan's death. But, at length, his ear drank in a few of Emily's words, and he regarded her intently.

Emily pursued the strain, and, ere long, the flood gushed forth' from that overcharged brain, and Flower was aroused to consciousness,

CHAPTER XXXV.

AFTER a passage of four months, the Lady Jane Grey sighted the

Lizard Light, and next morning the land was clearly visible. Flower and Emily were gazing on it from the poop, and experiencing those emotions common to all who have been for any length of time absent from their country.

'Where do you intend going when we land, George?' Emily inquired.

"To Orford Hall,' was the reply. Emily shuddered, and remained silent for a few minutes.

'But I cannot go there,' said she, ' until I have written to my father and mother.'

'No,' said Flower; but you can go with me to a road-side inn that stands near Yewbray Bridge-or that used to stand there in my day -and there you can remain until I have seen your father, and heard what he has got to say."

And will you see him?' she inquired.

'Of course, I will,' said Flower. 'I wonder if he will remember me. He used to be very fond of me when I was a little fellow, and always took a great interest in my welfare. What awful changes we shall find in the neighbourhood! Prepare your mind for that, Mrs.

' (Flower, since Roberts's death, never breathed any name when addressing Emily.)

I am prepared for all,' said the unhappy lady. I am even prepared for the refusal of my father and mother to receive me under their roof. I am prepared to lead a life in England quite as unhappy and as cheerless as was that in New South Wales.'

:

CHAPTER XXXVI.

At Gravesend Flower and Emily disembarked-and Sheriff, the first Australian horse that ever rounded Cape Horn. Sheriff was very stiff on landing, though in excellent condition and he created no small amount of curiosity with those present; for Flower had brought home the identical saddle that Sheriff always wore on great expeditions, and it was now upon the little horse's back. It was not a pig's skin, but made out of the hide of a calf. Its flaps were not padded, but flush. The stirrup leathers were as black as ink, and

VOL. XLVIII. NO. CCLXXXVIII.

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very thin, though strong; the irons that were attached to them were so small, that the toe only of a man's boot could get inside them. There was a sheep's skin spread behind the saddle, and fastened under the crupper. On this reposed sundry pairs of handcuffs, and a small chain. The bridle, too, was rather quaint; the head-piece was that of a gighorse, with the blinkers cut off; and the bit, a racing snaffle, as light (to use Flower's words) as a feather. But if the horse and his trappings attracted attention, so did also his

master.

Riches had not worked any change in either Flower's sentiments or dress. He still wore the uniform fustian shooting-coat and fustian trowsers (washed white), and the blue cloth waistcoat; boots, laced up the front, and a cabbage-tree hat, with a black ribbon; while around his neck was a blue silk handkerchief, tied in a sailor's knot.

Flower had become not only very 'colonial' in outward appearance; but in parlance he was peculiarly so. He had mixed a good deal with the blacks during his stay abroad; and in the colony, where the aboriginal language, if it be not thoroughly understood by the European, nevertheless contributes sundry words and phrases which became current, it was all very well to use occasionally a little of it; but in England it was otherwise; and therefore, when Flower told a groom to give Sheriff some 'patter,' he was driven to explain that patter' did not mean a thrashing, but grub.' So, also, when he used the word 'narang' (small), but bidgee' (good), the groom did not quite comprehend the gentleman's praise of his horse; which induced Flower to say

'You stare at me as if I had just come from some outlandish country!'

A large carriage and post-horses were hired, and Emily and her boxes put inside. Flower took his seat in the rumble. They had only a journey of twenty miles before them.

When they neared the spot where they had been born, how strangely did the heart of each palpitate.

And now, every house, every tree, every lane, became familiar to Flower's eye. And yes, there was the bridge! Yewbray bridge!

Y Y

There was the spot where the young Squire fell and there was the little road-side inn, whither George Flower, on that morningnow twenty years ago-ran, and boasted of having done the deed! 'Stop!' cried Flower. Pull up here!'

Flower descended, and took Emily from the carriage into the inn. She was greatly agitated, and very pale; but Flower bade her take heart, make herself comfortable, and not talk to any of the people of the house.

The landlady did not recognise Flower; but he knew her. She was a young unmarried girl when he left that part of the world. She was now the mother of eight or nine children. He longed to make himself known to the landlady; but he contrived to master his inclination, and left the inn, on foot. went to the lodge where his family used to live. All were gone!

He

Flower paused for a few minutes. "Ah! that's where I shall get the most information in the shortest space of time!' said Flower to himself; and he bent his steps to the church-yard, wherein he had often played as a boy, and where he had first learnt to read.

Yes; there was told the tale. His mother was sleeping beside that sister whom he so dearly loved. But of his father, who always treated him and his sister with so much severity, there was no record. He knelt beside the grave, and placed his head on the stone which marked the spot where lay the dear ashes of his kindred: and he plucked some daisies, and placed them on the stone. He then strolled about the yard, and saw the graves of many whom he had left in the bloom of life-many a brave lad, and many a bonnie girl, with whom he was acquainted. And inside the church he then moved, to see what inroads death had made amongst the gentry. Yes; the gentry had suffered as much as the peasantry. Lord Waldane's monumental slab was there, and those of many other great folks whom he remembered. And there was cut upon a piece of white marble these words: In memory of Emily, relict of Edward Orford, Esq., of Orford Hall.'

'Well, I don't see the necessity of giving my name,' said Flower. Tell Mr. Orford that a person has come to give him some information. Mr. Orford is a magistrate, I believe? 'Yes.'

Then go, and tell him what I have told you.'

The footman called to another footman, and saying, loud enough for Flower to hear-Keep this gentleman company until I come back,'— he went into the library to deliver the message.

After an absence of a few minutes, the footman returned, and said'Walk this way;' and he conducted Flower to Mr. Orford's presence.

Mr. Orford had grown very old. infirm, and irritable. When Flower was announced he was reading the Bible.

Well, Sir, and what may be your business?' he asked.

'It is private business, Sir.' 'Shut the door, and go,' said Mr. Orford to the footman.

You do not remember me, Sir,' said Flower, when they were alone. No, Sir; who are you?'

It is more than twenty years ago since we met, Sir.'

Well, that may be. But who are you? What do you want? What is your business?

'Sir, you knew not only me, but everybody belonging to me.'

Mr. Orford put on his spectacles and surveyed the intruder. He rose from his chair, with the assistance of his hands, approached Flower, who was still standing, hat in hand, and peered into his eyes.

'Good Heaven!' ejaculated the old man, placing his hands upon Flower's shoulders. My boy! Is it you, George?' and he clung to Flower, and clutched him by the elbows.