gentleman had not been unobservant: "I have carefully noticed his (Harry's) conduct for years, and have seen that instead of foolishly depending upon expectations, he has set to work with a will to build his own fortune, hence I pass others over, and bequeath my property to him because I know he will make a proper use of the valuable bequest." So Harry had left the bank, and was now installed in the beautiful place his dead relative had built in St. Kilda.
The sun was declining in the western sky, casting over the earth, so soon to be enveloped in the shadows of night, beams richer and mellower than his noontide rays, as if to prepare the world for the peaceful change that was coming on. The light of departing day fell on few scenes so beautiful as that presented at the little villa of Robert Wilton, an unpretending, cosy cottage on the outskirts of East St. Kilda, with a neat lawn and flower beds in front. Tending one of these parterres, attired in a bewitching garden costume, was Linda. It is difficult to say what she was doing, although her own opinion was that she was working, and working very hard, too. But all ladies who have gardens fancy that. It was easy to see, however, that the flowers, beautiful as they were, occupied but a little space in Linda's mind. Her eyes turned continually towards the railway station, and when a train stopped she desisted from her "labor," and watched for a well-known form, pouting when she saw the iron monster go on its way, and no appearance of the desired person. Standing over those beds of flowers, gorgeous with crimson, and gold and blue blossom, Linda Wilton fell into a reverie in which all the sweet dream of their wedded life was presented to her view. What a delicious dream it was! She remembered the delirious days of happiness that followed that fluttering, agitating ceremony which made them one; the happy time spent at Queenscliff, where they went after the wedding; then the settling down into a peaceful pleasant life in this home, now so inexpressibly dear to her, as associated with all that had been brightest in her life. Not a shadow had fallen upon them. O! was it not happiness supreme to meet the dear handsome fellow every evening when he returned from the city, to be clasped in his arms, and to receive that loving kiss so dear to the devoted wife; to pass with him the quiet evening in reading or other amusements, with music to vary the pleasures? But why dwell on these things? Is there a husband or wife who can recall the first sir months of their wedded life, and not sigh over the Elysium that has passed for ever from their grasp into the eternal shadows, a thing to be dreamed of, but never again realised? Enough!
Would this last? Light-hearted as Linda was, that question even now entered into her mind, as did the serpent into Paradise. Even Linda thought it too bright to continue. Had she not noticed a slight change in Bob lately?
"Bottles, ma'am, any bottles to sell—give twice the vally, and no mistake."
Linda looked up. Outside the fence stood a ragged urchin who, according to his stature, should be only about ten years, but whose face, wizened like that of a man of sixty, showed be was a great deal older. A cunning monkey countenance it was, indeed. He carried an old basket in which were several empty bottles.
A sudden idea of making money occurred to Madame Linda. There were a lot of bottles in the yard; therefore, after some preliminary bargaining with this new Alnaschar, in which she thought she showed wonderful business capacity, she sent him round to the back to get the bottles off the generally useful lad who, with a general servant, formed Robert's establishment.
Master Patsy Quinlan, blinking his owl-like eyes, which seemed to dislike the light, and laughing in his sleeve at the very advantageous bargain made with Linda, opened the side gate, and made his way to the kitchen, not forgetting to keep a careful look out on either side to see what Providence might throw in his way, for this interesting youth was a picker up of unconsidered trifles, and never looked a gift horse in the month.
"Missus sent me round for the bottles," said he, addressing a youth who was industriously hosing a well-made little horse which appeared to enjoy the operation.
"Hello!" cried the youth, turning sharp round, and dropping the hose as if it were red hot, to the discomfort of a cat who was sunning herself, and who received the douche, "Where did you spring from?"
"Well I'm blowed!" cried the equally surprised bottle-merchant, almost dropping his basket Alnascharlike. "I'm blessed if it ain't Billy Dawson, as we all thought 'ad gone on the farmin' lay, nothin' a week and find yourself. Why I wouldn't ha' known ye!"
