Beyond the Rocks

Josiah Brown cut the top off his oeuf à la coque with a knife at his

premier déjeuner next day. The knife grated on the shell in a

determined way, and Theodora felt her heart sink at the prospect of

broaching the subject of the breakfast at the Café Henry.

"I am so glad the rain has stopped," she said, nervously. "It was

raining when I woke this morning."

"Indeed," replied Josiah. "And what kind of an evening did you pass with

that father of yours?"

"A very pleasant one," said Theodora, crumbling her roll. "Papa met some

old friends, and we all dined together at the Ritz. I wish you had been

able to come, it might have done you good, it was so gay!"

"I am not fit for gayety," said her husband, peevishly, scooping out

spoonfuls of yolk. "And who were the party, pray?"

Theodora obediently enumerated them all, and the high-sounding title of

the Russian Prince, to say nothing of the English lord and lady, had a

mollifying effect on Josiah Brown. He even remembered the name of

Bracondale--had he not been a grocer's assistant in the small town of

Bracondale for a whole year in his apprenticeship days?

"Papa wants us to breakfast to-day with him at Henry's for you to meet

some of them," Theodora said, with more confidence.

Josiah had taken a second egg and his frown was gone.

"We'll see about it, we'll see about it," he grunted; but his wife felt

more hopeful, and was even unusually solicitous of his wants in the way

of coffee and marmalade and cream. Josiah was shrewd if he did happen to

be deeply self-absorbed in his health, and he noticed that Theodora's

eyes were brighter and her step more elastic than usual.

He knew he had bought "one of them there aristocrats," as his old aunt,

who had kept a public-house at New Norton, would have said. Bought her

with solid gold--he had no illusions on this subject, and he quite

realized if the solid gold had not been amassed out of England, so that

to her family he could be represented as "something from the

colonies--rather rough, but such a good fellow"--even Captain

Fitzgerald's impecuniosity and rapacity would not have risen to his

bait.

He was also grateful to Theodora--she had been so meek always, and such

a kind and unselfish nurse. With his impaired constitution and delicate

chest he had given up all hopes of looking on her as a wife again, just

yet; but, as a nurse and an ornament--a peg to hang the evidences of his

wealth upon--she was little short of perfection. He could have been

frantically in love with her if she had only been the girl from the

station bar in Melbourne. Josiah Brown was not a bad fellow.