The familiar words rolled over Reeve’s troubled spirit like a balm. He reached for Maggie’s hand and held it tightly, and she understood. She began to read the same passage over again, and Reeve dared to close his eyes. For the first time he was not met with the grisly sight of sharks tearing at the carcass of a whale and at living men; instead, he saw green pastures, dotted with sheep.

And he slept a deep and healing sleep.

At Maggie’s insistence the trip to Brisbane was made by train and not by sea. As a consequence, it took much longer, and everyone was exhausted on arrival.

Arrangements had been made for the party to spend one night at a local hotel and then journey on, the following day, to Reeve’s property. From what Maggie had been able to discern by talking to Simon Coates, the plantation was a good ten miles due north of Brisbane. Reeve had recovered to the extent that he needed only a cane instead of the invalid’s chair, but he still spoke rarely, and when he did, it was in monosyllables. Maggie suspected that he was just being cussed.

The hotel, as fate would have it, looked out over a crystal-blue sea, and after searching the entire upper floor of the building, Maggie finally found Reeve standing on the porch, gazing out at the rolling, white-capped waves.

“This is an incredible place,” she said, drawing in the scent of burned sugar that filled the air. In a nearby gum tree, parrots alighted, like robins might in America or England, their plumage colorful and their songs raucous.

Reeve made a sound that indicated nothing more than that he’d heard her and kept his gaze fixed on the horizon.

Just then Cora came out of the hotel with Elisabeth, and the little girl hurled herself at Reeve, wrapping her arms around his legs and looking up at him adoringly. “Apple!” she crowed, demonstrating her progress. “Shoe button, potato, kangaroo!”

Reeve smiled wanly and ruffled her hair, and Cora removed the child and started down the steps. “We’re going looking for seashells, Elisabeth and I,” she announced.

“Seashells!” yelled Elisabeth.

Maggie laughed and linked her arm through Reeve’s. “You’re not fooling me, you know,” she said quietly. “You could talk much more than you do if only you wanted to. I would think Elisabeth’s efforts would shame you into trying harder.”

He touched her nose. “Shoe button,” he said, obediently, his eyes dancing. “Potato, kangaroo.”

“That isn’t funny,” Maggie huffed, though secretly she thought it was.

“Marry me, Maggie,” Reeve jarred her by saying. “Now, tonight.”