"You must try and save him from further punishment," said Sylvia nextday to Frere. "I did not mean to betray the poor creature, but I hadmade myself nervous by reading that convict's story."
"You shouldn't read such rubbish," said Frere. "What's the use? I don'tsuppose a word of it's true."
"It must be true. I am sure it's true. Oh, Maurice, these are dreadfulmen. I thought I knew all about convicts, but I had no idea that suchmen as these were among them."
"Thank God, you know very little," said Maurice. "The servants you havehere are very different sort of fellows from Rex and Company."
"Oh, Maurice, I am so tired of this place. It's wrong, perhaps, withpoor papa and all, but I do wish I was somewhere out of the sight ofchains. I don't know what has made me feel as I do."
"Come to Sydney," said Frere. "There are not so many convicts there. Itwas arranged that we should go to Sydney, you know."
"For our honeymoon? Yes," said Sylvia, simply. "I know it was. But weare not married yet."
"That's easily done," said Maurice.
"Oh, nonsense, sir! But I want to speak to you about this poor Dawes.I don't think he meant any harm. It seems to me now that he was rathergoing to ask for food or something, only I was so nervous. They won'thang him, Maurice, will they?"
"No," said Maurice. "I spoke to your father this morning. If the fellowis tried for his life, you may have to give evidence, and so we came tothe conclusion that Port Arthur again, and heavy irons, will meet thecase. We gave him another life sentence this morning. That will make thethird he has had."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing. I sent him down aboard the schooner at once. He ought to beout of the river by this time." "Maurice, I have a strange feeling aboutthat man."
"Eh?" said Maurice.
"I seem to fear him, as if I knew some story about him, and yet didn'tknow it."
"That's not very clear," said Maurice, forcing a laugh, "but don'tlet's talk about him any more. We'll soon be far from Port Arthur andeverybody in it."
"Maurice," said she, caressingly, "I love you, dear. You'll alwaysprotect me against these men, won't you?"
Maurice kissed her. "You have not got over your fright, Sylvia," hesaid. "I see I shall have to take a great deal of care of my wife."
"Of course," replied Sylvia.
And then the pair began to make love, or, rather, Maurice made it, andSylvia suffered him.
Suddenly her eye caught something. "What's that--there, on the ground bythe fountain?" They were near the spot where Dawes had been seized thenight before. A little stream ran through the garden, and a Triton--ofconvict manufacture--blew his horn in the middle of a--convictbuilt--rockery. Under the lip of the fountain lay a small packet. Frerepicked it up. It was made of soiled yellow cloth, and stitched evidentlyby a man's fingers. "It looks like a needle-case," said he.
"Let me see. What a strange-looking thing! Yellow cloth, too. Why,it must belong to a prisoner. Oh, Maurice, the man who was here lastnight!"
"Ay," says Maurice, turning over the packet, "it might have been his,sure enough."
"He seemed to fling something from him, I thought. Perhaps this isit!" said she, peering over his arm, in delicate curiosity. Frere, withsomething of a scowl on his brow, tore off the outer covering of themysterious packet, and displayed a second envelope, of grey cloth--the"good-conduct" uniform. Beneath this was a piece, some three inchessquare, of stained and discoloured merino, that had once been blue.
"Hullo!" says Frere. "Why, what's this?"
"It is a piece of a dress," says Sylvia.
It was Rufus Dawes's talisman--a portion of the frock she had worn atMacquarie Harbour, and which the unhappy convict had cherished as asacred relic for five weary years.
Frere flung it into the water. The running stream whirled it away. "Whydid you do that?" cried the girl, with a sudden pang of remorse forwhich she could not account. The shred of cloth, caught by a weed,lingered for an instant on the surface of the water. Almost at the samemoment, the pair, raising their eyes, saw the schooner which bore RufusDawes back to bondage glide past the opening of the trees and disappear.When they looked again for the strange relic of the desperado of PortArthur, it also had vanished.
CHAPTER XII. AT PORT ARTHUR.
For the Term of His Natural Life Page 42