the ladder to the boat before Mr. Maldon could repeat his request. The
steamer sped away through the sunset, and the outline of the island
melted in the horizon as they neared the opposite shore.

"To think," said George, "that two nights ago, at this time, I was
steaming into Liverpool, full of the hope of clasping her to my heart,
and to-night I am going away from her grave!"

The document which appointed Robert Audley as guardian to little George
Talboys was drawn up in a solicitor's office the next morning.

"It's a great responsibility," exclaimed Robert; "I, guardian to anybody
or anything! I, who never in my life could take care of myself!"

"I trust in your noble heart, Bob," said George. "I know you will take
care of my poor orphan boy, and see that he is well used by his
grandfather. I shall only draw enough from Georgey's fortune to take me
back to Sydney, and then begin my old work again."

But it seemed as if George was destined to be himself the guardian of
his son; for when he reached Liverpool, he found that a vessel had just
sailed, and that there would not be another for a month; so he returned
to London, and once more threw himself upon Robert Audley's hospitality.

The barrister received him with open arms; he gave him the room with the
birds and flowers, and had a bed put up in his dressing-room for
himself. Grief is so selfish that George did not know the sacrifices his
friend made for his comfort. He only knew that for him the sun was
darkened, and the business of life done. He sat all day long smoking
cigars, and staring at the flowers and canaries, chafing for the time to