Publisher's Synopsis
There was consternation in the domestic camp of Mr. Justice Bligh on the banks of theThames. It was a Sunday morning in early summer. Three-fourths of the family sat inominous silence before the mockery of a well-spread breakfast-table: Sir James and LadyBligh and their second son, Granville. The eldest son-the missing complement of thisfamily of four-was abroad. For many months back, and, in fact, down to this very minute, it had been pretty confidently believed that the young man was somewhere in the wilds ofAustralia; no one had quite known where, for the young man, like most vagabond youngmen, was a terribly meagre corespondent; nor had it ever been clear why any one withleisure and money, and of no very romantic turn, should have left the beaten track ofglobe-trotters, penetrated to the wilderness, and stayed there-as Alfred Bligh had done.Now, however, all was plain. A letter from Brindisi, just received, explained everything;Alfred's movements, so long obscure, were at last revealed, and in a lurid light-that, as itwere, of the bombshell that had fallen and burst upon the Judge's breakfast-table. ForAlfred was on his way to England with an Australian wife; and this letter from Brindisi, wasthe first that his people had heard of it, or of her."Of course," said Lady Bligh, in her calm and thoughtful manner, "it was bound to happensooner or later. It might have happened very much sooner; and, indeed, I often wished thatit would; for Alfred must be-what? Thirty?""Quite," said Granville; "I am nearly that myself.""Well, then," said Lady Bligh gently, looking tenderly at the Judge (whose grave eyes restedupon the sunlit lawn outside), "from one point of view-a selfish one-we ought toconsider ourselves the most fortunate of parents. And this news should be a matter forrejoicing, as it would be, if-if it were only less sudden, and wild, and-and-"Her voice trembled; she could not go on."And alarming," added Granville briskly, pulling himself together and taking an egg.Then the Judge spoke."I should like," he said, "to hear the letter read slowly from beginning to end. Between us, we have not yet given it a fair chance; we have got only the drift of it; we may haveoverlooked something. Granville, perhaps you will read the letter aloud to your mother andme?"Granville, who had just laid open his egg with great skill, experienced a moment's naturalannoyance at the interruption. To stop to read a long letter now was, he felt, treating a goodappetite shabbily, to say nothing of the egg. But this was not a powerful feeling; heconcealed it. He had a far stronger appetite than the mere relish for food; the intellectualone. Granville had one of the nicest intellects at the Junior Bar. His intellectual appetite wasso hearty, and even voracious, that it could be gratified at all times and places, and not onlyby the loaves and fishes of full-bodied wit, but by the crumbs and fishbones of legalhumour-such as the reading aloud of indifferent English and ridiculous sentiments intones suitable to the most chaste and classic prose. This he had done in court with infinitegusto, and he did it now as he would have done it in cour
