Midsummer's Eve

We set off. I gave one look back. Gregory was smiling that smile I I knew so well; and Maud was standing there, her hand on Rosa's shoulder.

A Visitor From Australia

And so we were sailing for England.

We should be well into the new year before we reached home, for there had been some delay in getting a passage for us all and we had had to stay in Sydney for several weeks.

Helena had written to Matthew and had left the letter at the Grand Hotel to be collected when he came there. In this she told him she was going home with me.

I knew that Rolf was puzzled by the marriage which in a short time had produced not only a baby but a husband who had gone off leaving his newly wedded wife who was not sure of his whereabouts.

But finally we were on board.

I realized that everything I did was going to bring back memories; and as soon as I stepped on to the ship I remembered the journey out and the fun Jacco and I had had, and how excited we had been at the prospect of seeing new places; but most of all I remembered that deep abiding security I had had-and which I had not realized until I had lost it-in the heart of a devoted and loving family.

But Rolf had come right to the other side of the world, leaving his beloved estates, to come to me because as much as anyone else I knew, he would understand my grief.

I must be thankful that I had such a friend.

At first I could not feel any interest in the ship. I did not care whether the sun shone or we were in stormy waters. I was hardly aware of the rough seas. Although I was glad to be on my way I dreaded getting home.

I tried to imagine Cador without them.

Jonnie comforted me a great deal. I was with him as often as possible. I was sure he knew me; he was beginning to take an interest in the world about him now, and he grew more adorable every day. Helena understood and when she thought I was particularly depressed she would talk of him or bring him to me and put him into my arms.

Rolf noticed and remarked on my fondness for the child.

"He's always been with me," I said, "really as much as he is with Helena.”

I realized my feelings towards Rolf were getting back to what they had been before that terrible Midsummer's Eve.

When I looked at him dispassionately it was brought home to me what a very attractive man he was. He was greatly respected throughout the ship. He was gracious; he had an easy manner; he did not thrust himself forward as Gregory Donnelly had done. In fact my acquaintance with Gregory Donnelly had made me realize how very much I admired Rolf.

I was taken back to those days of my childhood when I had set him up as a god, when my heart leaped with pleasure when I heard his arrival. How I used to fly down to meet him and he would lift me in his arms and give me a piggyback-ride when I wanted to show him something in the nursery.

Then had come that Midsummer's Eve when I believed that my god had feet of clay.

What had shocked me almost as much as the cruelty inflicted on Mother Ginny was Rolf's part in it. That had destroyed my feelings for him. I had continued to love him in a way, but my affection had been tainted by what I had seen and the awful realization that I did not really know him at all.

One grows very close to people during a sea voyage; one sees them every day at meals as well as about the ship. A few days of such intimacy is equivalent to months of an ordinary relationship.

Rolf was so tender, so tactful. Now and then he talked of home and n he saw that I was getting too emotional, he would steer the conversation away from that evocative subject.

It was such a comfort to know that he understood, even more than Helena did, what I was feeling.

And somehow I knew he was waiting. The fact that he had come out to Australia to bring me home, showed that he cared for me in a very special way. He had always been a good friend but this was more than friendship.

It was during these peaceful balmy nights when we were crossing the Indian Ocean that we sat on the deck together looking out on the darkening water, listening to the gentle swishing of the sea against the side of the ship as we talked.

He said: "I often think of you when you were a little girl. You used to rush to me when I arrived at Cador with my father. If you had something new, you always wanted to show it to me.”

"Yes, I remember.”

"You were very fond of me then.”

"I thought you were the most wonderful person in the world. At least, you shared that honour with ...”

The tell-tale break in my voice made him reach for my hand.

"I know," he said. "It was a gratifying feeling to be so regarded. When things weren't going well, I used to say to myself, 'I'll go to Cador and get a boost to my ego from Annora.' And then suddenly ... it changed.”

I was silent.