The Foot of Time: A Novel of Australia and the South Seas: (1933)

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218 THE FOOT OF TIME THE FOOT OF TIME 219
Bruce the greater was homeward bound to England
to meet his late wife. Of Australia and all
who lived there he knew nothing. In London he
sought his lawyers, who knew extremely little, but
knew of others who might know more. These
others suggested more channels of possible enlightenment,
and so at long last Arbuthnot got upon
the track of she whom he sought. He learned that
Clare had settled in Australia. It was a long cry,
but he would have journeyed to Heaven, or the
other sphere, and still not given up the quest.
What part of AUstralia? The country which is not
a country at all but a collection of huge countries
forming one vast continent so prodigious that if all
Europe could be dumped down in its centre, it
would still leave a vast coast-line country sufficiently
deep to carry all the population already
there. And then he learned that Clare resided in
New South Wales, and felt that he was narrowing
down his line of investigation.
Clare's people were a closed book to him, but
Arbuthnot obtained her address at last. When it
did come, it seemed so simple he wondered that
he had not come upon it the first day he arrived.
She lived at Vaucluse, a polished suburb on Sydney's
world-renowned harbour. The baronet had
always wanted to visit Australia, but the totally
unnecessary length of the passage prevented. There
are a few people on earth who cherish similar ambitions.
Suppose we put it at millions of billions.
Some carry yellow faces, others more yellow still.
Then again, there are the whites, the blacks, and
more besides. Sir Bruce was not alone in his wish,
and now they were to be fulfilled. Mrs.—whatever
her name was—had lived at some mountain resort,
but was now living near Sydney. No, they did not
know why she had gone down to the capital to
live. Perhaps she found the mountains lonely. How
could he find out her name? Well, his lawyers soon
obtained that also. Most simple again when once
you knew where to look for it. And so before he
had learned too much—before he learnt more than
was good for him—like any impulsive boy the great
man took ship. Yes, there he stood, grim and determined,
looking ever forward. The passengers went
a bit in awe of the man. He was pleasant enough,
but not over sociable. "Pre-occupied," they called
him. "But what a chin, my dear! Phew, I shouldn't
care to cross that handsome fellow!"
At Orange drama came into its own. Mr.
Burne had learnt who Mrs. Swinton's husband had
been. It's all he did learn, but it was enough. Of
the South Seas he but knew that young Bruce had
been unavoidably detained. He didn't know why
—he didn't care; it was no business of his. But
this other! The boy who had looked at his lovely
Edith was the son of a divorced swine. He was the
son of a rotten aristocrat, and Mr. Burne was in
time to save his daughter from him. The farmer
sent for her—sent for her kindly but firmly. The
man was night bursting with righteous indignation.
He, one of God's elect, and this—this