Yes! it was a grand time for Harry. Yet even this joy, even his sorrow and loneliness at his mother's grave, did not banish from his heart the wish for revenge. He had shut his ears to the words--"Vengeance is mine: I will repay, saith the Lord." Mr Campbell had soon made up his mind with regard to Harry's future. The two years he had been away from school were, at his age, a most serious loss to him; and all idea of his going to Oxford must be abandoned. There was not time for him to make progress sufficient to enable him to do well there; and unless he could do well, and help himself by gaining a scholarship, his father could not afford to send him to the University. So he arranged that he should remain four years with a well-to-do farmer of his acquaintance in Herefordshire, and learn farming; at the end of that time, he should go to Australia, and try his fortune there, where so many were filling their pockets and returning to England rich men. Within a week of the visit to Wilton, Harry was at his new abode in Herefordshire, and his father once more had joined his vessel. It had been a sad parting from Wilton. But they had work before them both; and though their hearts sorely ached at saying good-bye to that grassy mound in Wilton churchyard, Alan spoke to his boy (feeling, himself, the truth of what he spoke), in the words of the noble-hearted American poet: "Life is real, life is earnest, And the grave is not its goal!" And again, "Let us then be up doing, With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait." CHAPTER XX. AVENGED AT LAST. Homeward bound--Man overboard--Self-sacrifice--Noble revenge. Fifteen years since Harry Campbell landed in Australia, a fine, stalwart, young man of nineteen! Fifteen years of toil, crowned by success, and he was on his way to England; home to his father, a quiet, grey, old man of some three score years; home to Wilton, where the sailor had taken up his abode, near his loved one's grave, in the farm, still kept by Mrs Valentine! Full of hope and eagerness was Harry (one must call him by his boyish name still, though he is now a man of thirty-four), on his homeward voyage, over the running waves. He had not seen much of the other passengers; in fact, he had kept almost entirely to himself, only entering into conversation with the captain, or any of the ship's crew that took his fancy. And many were the eyes of disappointment that in vain sought the friendship of the reserved, wealthy, homeward-bound Englishman. He was talking to the man at the helm, when his eye caught sight of some one sitting, carelessly smoking, in a dangerous position near an open part of the ship's bulwarks. He abruptly ended his conversation, and walking across the deck, said-- "Excuse me, sir, but you are not in a very safe place."