Page 447 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

a little strained; ‘husband and wife should have no secrets
from each other, sir. Besides, I want you to read my books. I
am going to read Shelley to you.’
‘Don’t, my dear,’ said Maurice simply. ‘I can’t understand
him.’
This little scene took place at the dinner-table of Frere’s
cottage, in New Town, to which Major Vickers had been in-
vited, in order that future plans might be discussed.
‘I don’t want to go to Port Arthur,’ said the bride, later
in the evening. ‘Maurice, there can be no necessity to go
there.’
‘Well,’ said Maurice. ‘I want to have a look at the place.
I ought to be familiar with all phases of convict discipline,
you know.’
‘There is likely to be a report ordered upon the death
of a prisoner,’ said Vickers. ‘The chaplain, a fussy but well-
meaning person, has been memorializing about it. You may
as well do it as anybody else, Maurice.’
‘Ay. And save the expenses of the trip,’ said Maurice.
‘But it is so melancholy,’ cried Sylvia.
‘The most delightful place in the island, my dear. I was
there for a few days once, and I really was charmed.’
It was remarkable—so Vickers thought—how each of
these newly-mated ones had caught something of the oth-
er’s manner of speech. Sylvia was less choice in her mode
of utterance; Frere more so. He caught himself wondering
which of the two methods both would finally adopt.
‘But those dogs, and sharks, and things. Oh, Maurice,
haven’t we had enough of convicts?’

For the Term of His Natural Life