Your wife motioned me to place my ear to
her lips. I did so. With an effort she raised
her head from the pillow, fixed her eyes on
the sleeping girl, and whispered to me 'If
my husband should ever think of marrying
again, I hope that she will be his choice.'"

Captain Preston rose passionately from his
chair, and grasped my hand. "You have
plucked from my mind the most anxious
doubt that for several weeks past has literally
haunted it. I have asked myself over and
over again,—What would she have said?"

"Have you put the question to Miss Saint
Felix?" the Major inquired.

"No," said Captain Preston; "but I will
do so to-morrow."

Annie at first objected to become the wife
of Captain Preston, although she was very
much attached to him. She was afraid that his
union with her would prejudice his position
in the colony, and eventually make him
unhappy. But, at last, her scruples were
overcome, and on one lovely winter's morning in the
month of June, Captain Preston led Annie to
the altar, where their hands were joined. The
Major and myself, as well as those neighbours
with whom we associated, were present;
and, albeit the church in point of structure
bore a very strong resemblance to an English
barn, and there were no merry peals of bells,
still there were joyous faces to greet the
newly wedded pair when the ceremony
concluded. They lived very happily together,
and Annie became the mother of a little boy.

About eighteen months after this event
Captain Preston unexpectedly inherited a
large property in England. The amount
of income may have been exaggerated; but
rumour put it down at fifteen thousand
pounds a-year. The Captain's presence was
required in England, but he would not leave
the colony until he could be accompanied
by his wife. Remember that she was still a
convict under sentence of transportation for
the term of her natural life, though the most
debased and brutal person in existence would
never have dreamt of reminding her of that
frightful fact.

It must have been a bitterly painful
interview that which Captain Preston had
with the governor of the colony; but it
resulted in the removal of the obstacle which
lay in the way of Annie's returning to
Europe, and they left New South Wales, to
the very great regret of my husband and
myself, and of many others.

The last time I saw Annie before she left
the colony was in the streets of Sydney.
She was leaning on the arm of her stepson,
Charles Preston, who was then a tall
youth of twenty years of age, and an ensign
in a Regiment of Foot. He regarded
his mother (as he always spoke of her) with
a look so replete with filial affection,—spoke
to her so kindly and so gently—seemed so
proud of her (for she was still a very
pretty woman) that my liking for him was
far in excess of what it had been when he
was only a boy.

AN EXECUTOR.

SILAS NESTEGG, ESQUIRE, having died
suddenly, appointed me his executor, in
conjunction with a gentleman whom I had never
before heard of. I did not refuse the trust,
as it was forced upon me by friendship,
although I had no recollection of ever being
consulted on the subject. Silas Nestegg was
always extremely uncommunicative upon
matters connected with his property, and I
was always very unwilling to ask him, any
questions.

My deceased friend was one of those quiet,
restless speculators, who are very common
amongst middle-aged gentlemen of leisure
commanding a certain amount of floating
capital. He was always running down to
the City for the purpose of selling out of
something, buying into something else, and
spreading his money over the greatest
possible area. He was part of the tank in a
large water-works; he was a station or an
engine on a Canadian railway; he was twenty
yards of road-pipes in a leading gas factory;
he was half of a fishing-smack, and two-thirds
of a steam tug-boat; he was so many tons of
French bread that went into the mouths of
French soldiers, and so many pounds of
Austrian lead that went into those soldiers'
hearts; he was a blind-alley in a Welsh
coal-mine; a dozen yards of electric cable at
the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean; another
dozen yards of the same material about to be
flung into the Red Sea; he was two omnibuses
and six pairs of horses; he was five
hundred sovereigns shovelled about on a
banker's counter; he was eighty gallons of
the finest gin turned out of a London joint-
stock distillery; he was ready to carry the
post-office mails; to provide for the widow
on the death of her husband; to compensate
the railway traveller for a smashed nose, or
a wooden leg; to put out a fire, or to make
good the loss; to build a theatre to annoy a
chapel, or to build a chapel to fulminate
against a theatre. In short, he was that
machine of universal adaptability, without
thought, sentiment, or feeling, except for
the everlasting per-centages— a capitalist who
dabbled a little in almost every investment.

Some of these shares and undertakings I
was not surprised to find, as I had heard of
them, at different times, from my late friend's
own mouth; but most of them came upon
me quite unexpectedly.

Those I had heard of turned out to be the
safe and profitable investments, while those I
had never heard of were the dead leaves of
the capitalist's cash-box. The late Silas
Nestegg, Esquire, was never known to admit
that his judgment had led him into anything
like a failure.