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diff --git a/old/61385-0.txt b/old/61385-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7acdf88..0000000 --- a/old/61385-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13131 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Last Chance, by Rolf Boldrewood - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Last Chance - A tale of the Golden West - -Author: Rolf Boldrewood - -Release Date: February 12, 2020 [EBook #61385] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST CHANCE *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, David Wilson and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - THE LAST CHANCE - - A TALE OF THE GOLDEN WEST - - - - -[Publisher’s Device: MM & Co] - - - - - THE LAST CHANCE - A Tale of the Golden West - - BY - ROLF BOLDREWOOD - - AUTHOR OF - ‘ROBBERY UNDER ARMS,’ ‘THE MINER’S RIGHT,’ - ‘THE SQUATTER’S DREAM.’ ‘A COLONIAL REFORMER,’ ETC. - - - London - MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited - NEW YORK : THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - 1905 - - _All rights reserved_ - - - - -_Copyright in the United States of America._ - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -As a Commissioner of Goldfields, and Police Magistrate, in New South -Wales, it is hardly necessary to say that Arnold Banneret’s pay was -not conspicuously in advance of the necessaries of life. Necessaries -which may be thus catalogued: a couple of decent ride-and-drive -horses, a light, much-enduring buggy, clothes and books, boots and -shoes, bread and butter, for half-a-dozen growing boys and girls—with -an occasional trip to the seaside, and a regularly recurring doctor’s -bill; while the Rev. Mr. Wilson’s quarterly accounts for the eldest -boy’s board and tuition had also a knack of turning up inconveniently -soon, as it appeared to paterfamilias, after his departure to school. - -He was leaning against the corner of the police barrack, having just -returned from a long official ride with Inspector Falcon, revolving -the question of ways and means, or else the conflicting evidence in a -knotty, complicated mining case, upon which he had reserved his -decision. He had invested all the money he could spare (this was -before the latest mining Act) in a promising claim, which had turned -out worthless. His tradespeople, usually forbearing, had suddenly -disclosed monetary pressure—requiring to be relieved by cash payment. -Altogether, the outlook was overclouded—there was even a presage of -storm and stress. - -The Inspector had departed to dress for dinner, invited thereto by a -wandering globe-trotter, known to his family in England. The -Commissioner’s clerk, newly married, had gone home to his wife the -moment the clock struck four—indeed, a few minutes earlier. - -It was growing late; the minor officials had retired to their several -quarters. His horse was finishing the corn which had been graciously -ordered for him by the Inspector, and, strange to say, though in the -centre of a populous goldfield, a feeling of loneliness and silence, -almost oppressive, commenced to manifest itself. - -He was about to bridle his horse, and depart for his home, a few miles -distant from the goldfields ‘township’ of Barrawong, where ten -thousand miners with their families, tradespeople, officials, and -camp-followers generally, had made provisional homes, when his eye was -attracted by a man at some distance, walking slowly towards him. A -footsore tramp, evidently—‘remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow.’ As -he approached, Banneret’s experienced eye told him that the man before -him had been ill—probably short of food—had broken down on the road, -and was now straining every nerve to get to town, probably to be -admitted into the Public Hospital, so often a haven of rest and -refreshment to the invalid wayfarer. When the ‘traveller,’ as a -nomadic labourer is termed in Australia, came up to the barrack, the -Commissioner was shocked at his emaciated appearance and deathlike -pallor. His hollow cheeks and bloodshot eyes proclaimed a struggle -with weakness, dangerously protracted. His patched and threadbare -garments told a tale of want and absolute poverty, rare in this land -of careless plenty and comparative extravagance. It appeared as if the -succour might even now come too late, as to sailors stricken with that -mysterious malady of the sea, which decimates long-exiled crews, -landing them only to die, with the scent in their nostrils of the -freshly turned loam. As he came within a few paces of the -Commissioner, he staggered and almost fell. That official sprang -forward and caught him by the arm. ‘Why, Jack Waters!’ he said—‘I -should hardly have known you. What have you been doing to yourself?’ - -‘It’s what’s left of me,’ said the exhausted man, hardly able to -speak, it would seem, and trying as he did so to manage a sickly -smile—a most melancholy attempt. ‘Where I’ve been and what I’ve gone -through’s a long story; you might be in it towards the end, so we’d -better come into the “Reefer’s Arms” (old Bill Barker’s alive yet, I -suppose) and talk it over a bit. You know me, Mr. Banneret, this years -and years, and you always found me straight, didn’t you?’ - -‘Certainly I have; I never thought anything to the contrary. But -what’s this great affair you want me to hear about? Won’t it do -to-morrow? Stay at Barker’s to-night; I’ll shout your night’s lodging, -you know.’ - -‘To-morrow mightn’t do, sir; and if you’ll take a fool’s advice, -you’ll get his back room to sit in, where we can yarn without people -hearin’ all we say, and do a bit o’ business, comfortable like. And it -_is_ business, my word! You don’t hear the like every day.’ - -The Commissioner, as became his office, was not in the habit of -hobnobbing with miners promiscuously. He was reserved of manner, more -affable indeed to the ordinary miners than to his equals, whom he -treated with scant courtesy—particularly if his temper was ruffled. - -But this man was an exceptional inhabitant of the gold region. Having -known him for many years, he was in a position to prove against all -comers that he was one of the most energetic, honest, capable workers -that he had ever known upon this or other goldfields. - -When about to be sold up, through no fault of his own, having gone -security for a friend, the Commissioner came forward and provided a -guarantee. This prevented the forced sale, after which Jack had a -stroke of luck, and repaid every farthing. Since this occurrence he -had been what the Commissioner called ‘ridiculously grateful.’ - -Departing from his ordinary custom, and walking into the ‘Reefer’s -Arms,’ he asked the landlord, a burly ex-miner, popularly known as -Bill the Puddler, ‘if there was any one in the inner parlour?’ - -‘The shareholders in the “Blue Lookout” had it all the -morning—a-settling after their last wash-up—but they’ve just cleared, -and you can set there, quiet and comfortable, Commissioner. _Why_, -what’s the matter with _you_, Jack?’ he continued, looking with sudden -interest at the worn limbs and sunken features of the digger. - -‘Had the fever at Ding Dong. Want the Commissioner to get me into the -hospital—going to make my will first. Send us in a bottle o’ beer, and -a bite o’ bread and cheese, and don’t yabber.’ - -As he spoke, the exhausted man reeled rather than walked along the -passage leading to an inner apartment, and opening the door with a -show of familiarity, threw himself upon the well-worn sofa, which, -with a few chairs of various patterns, and a serviceable table, made -up the furniture of the room. Then he closed his eyes as if about to -faint. - -Mr. Banneret walked quickly towards him, but he put up his hand -warningly, and murmured, ‘All right directly. Wake up when Bill’s -a-coming; that’s what’s the matter.’ - -Although the wayfarer closed his eyes and lay as if insensible, he -raised himself when the host appeared a few minutes later, and assumed -an air of comparative alertness. - -That it was a miserable assumption Mr. Barker appeared to divine, as -he drew the cork, and poured out two glasses of the bitter beer, -departing without further comment, and casting as he went a searching -glance at the miner who was so ‘infernally down on his luck,’ as he -would have phrased it. His footsteps had no sooner ceased to be -audible, after reaching the end of the corridor, than the miner -drained his glass, with a sigh of deepest satisfaction, saying, -‘Here’s luck this time. Would you mind lockin’ the door careful, sir? -It’ll save my bones a bit, and they won’t stand much. You’ll see my -dart directly.’ - -This precaution being duly carried out, he proceeded to unbutton a -tattered woollen shirt. Below this was another in rather more careful -preservation. Placing his hand in the region of his belt he produced a -long canvas package, which had been secured to it, and which fitted -closely round his body above the hips. - -‘Blest if I didn’t think it was goin’ to cut me in two this last -week,’ he said, throwing it on the table; ‘it rubbed me awful, and I -dursn’t take it off and give any one a show to collar it. There was -rough coves where it come from, you bet, as would have had a man’s -life for half the stuff that’s there. Please to open it, sir. Take -your knife to the stitchin’; it ain’t been touched since I put it in.’ - -The end being ripped open, and part of the side of the twine-stitched -casing, the quartz specimens thus released rolled out on the table. -They were rich indeed—almost fabulously so. - -The Commissioner’s experienced eye gleamed, and even the sunken orbs -of the miner showed a fresh, though faint glimmer, as the pale stones -‘strung together with gold,’ in miner’s parlance, lay heaped together. - -‘And do you mean to say, with five hundred pounds worth of specimens -and nuggets in your pocket’—here he took up a small lump of pure -gold—‘a five-ounce bit, if it’s anything—you nearly starved yourself -to death—nearly died on the road? Hang it, man! you’ve run it too fine -altogether.’ - -‘Couldn’t help it, Commissioner. What was I to do? You know what a new -rush is like. Wouldn’t they have tracked me up, and pegged over the -ground, if they’d known I’d gold about me? I’d have lost my year’s -work—hard work, and lonely—starving myself all the while; perhaps had -a crack on the head as well. And then where’d we been? For I’m going -to give you a half share, Commissioner, if you’ll see me through, so’s -I can go back, and take up the lease proper and shipshape. I hadn’t a -shillin’ when I come away from the find, nor an ounce of flour, nor a -bit of sugar; meat I hadn’t seen for a month; I was afraid to go for -it. So I gammoned sick when I come in. It didn’t take any painting to -do that. Said I’d been doin’ a “perish” in the ranges (wrong -direction, of course), and was all broke up. Begged most of the way -back—many a long mile, too—and here I am!’ - -‘Take another glass of beer,’ said the Commissioner, ‘and finish the -bread and cheese. I’m going to dine. And now what do you want me to -do?’ - -‘You’ll find me five hundred pound, Commissioner; less won’t do. It’s -a long way to travel, but that says nothin’. That’ll about fix up the -lease deposits—the rations, cart and horses—and what’s wanted for me -and a mate. That’s all I’ll take _if_ I can get a good one that can -work and hold his tongue. I’ll transfer half my share in the lease to -you, and a better day’s work you never done in your life. You see -this—it’s nothing to what’s below. I covered the reef up. Sixteen foot -wide, good walls, thick with gold, reg’lar jeweller’s shop.’ - -‘Well, of course, you know, I’ve heard all this before. Heard it all, -and more too. Seen specimens as good as these, and better; and what -did it all come to? Duffered out inside of three months, and never -paid for candles.’ - -‘I’ve been diggin’ nigh hard thirty year—been a “forty-niner,” and so -help me, God Almighty! I never dropped across a show like this -afore—or within miles of it—for the real, solid stuff.’ - -‘Well, but five hundred pounds is a large sum. I’m not a rich man, you -all know. It gives me enough to do to pay the butcher and baker. I -should have to give security over everything I possess to raise it. -Mr. Bright, the banker, would not advance it without security, to save -my life, I had almost said. He dared not do it, for one thing.’ - -‘Now, look here, Commissioner! did you ever know me tell a lie? I -drink a bit, sometimes, but’—and here the wasted form was straightened -with an effort, and the hollow eyes gazed into the magistrate’s face -with an intensity almost appalling—‘no living man can say that Jack -Waters told a lie, or hid the truth. When I say I _saw_ and _touched_, -by the Lord Almighty! what ’ud make you and me, and a dozen more, rich -for life, won’t you believe me?’ and here, as if exhausted by the -temporary excitement, the old man sank upon his knees, and raising his -hands, as if in prayer, cried aloud, ‘For God’s sake, Commissioner! -for the sake of your wife and children, go into this thing with me, or -you’ll repent it to the last day of your life.’ - -Arnold Banneret gazed at the kneeling figure, stood for one minute in -earnest thought, and then said: ‘All right, I’ll risk it. We’d better -call it “The Last Chance,” for if it fails, I’m a ruined man.’ - -‘You’ll never be ruined this side of the grave, sir,’ said the miner, -as he slowly rose to his feet. ‘If you mortgage the shirt on your -back, and the shoes off your feet, it’s the best day’s work you ever -did. I’ve seen a man write a cheque for a half share in the No. 1 -British Hill, as was offered him on the ground floor. He jibbed on it, -and tore up the cheque. He knows _now_ that he tore up a fortune that -day. But you’ll be right, Commissioner. There’s no go-back in you, I -know from old times.’ - -‘True enough, Jack; I don’t change my line. Well, we must get to -business. I’ll have an agreement drawn up, in case of accidents, as -well as a transfer of the half share in the claim—I’ll find the five -hundred pounds. By the bye, there’s another thing—how about the -grog?’ - -‘From the day I leave here, sir, I don’t touch a drop, if it was to -save my life, till the first crushing’s out. Then you’ll have enough -to pay managers and wages men, enough to run a town—you can do without -poor old Jack Waters, even if he does break out, and something tells -me he won’t—till the biggest part of the thing’s through. What’s more, -I’ll make my will, and leave you the whole boiling, so if anything -should happen to me, you’ll have the lot.’ - -‘That’s unnecessary. I couldn’t take your share, in any case, on any -account. Your relations ought to come first, you know.’ - -‘Relations?’ echoed the old man, with a strange laugh. ‘When I ran -away from home in Cornwall, I had only two people as cared to own -me—my poor mother, the fellow that married her, and killed her with -ill usage. She’s dead years ago, and he’s in—well, I won’t say -where—he might have repented, you know. There’s no living soul claimed -kin with me when I was poor, and I’m not going to give ’em a chance -when I’m rich. No, you shall have the lot, to do what you like with, -when poor old Jack takes up his last claim in the alluvial. And now -I’ll have a bath, a square meal, and a good sleep till to-morrow, -while you take charge of these specimens, and work the Bank -business—Mr. Bright is a good sort, and he’ll spring a bit if he sees -his way.’ - - * * * * * - -The Commissioner proceeded to his office, where he carefully locked up -the precious stones—precious in every sense of the word—in the -Government safe. He made a second inspection, after which his brow -cleared, and the usual confident expression returned to his features. -Before leaving for his home he had a private interview with his -banker, who was fully acquainted with his pecuniary position. - -‘How do, Banneret? pleased to see you; your quarter’s pay has just -come in. That’s all right as far as it goes—so you want five hundred -pounds for a mining venture? Rather a speculation, of course. But -we’re all in that line here, worse luck. I dropped a hundred over that -rascally “Blue Lookout”—blue enough it turned out—and there’s “Flash -in the Pan” that I nearly bought into, paying a whacking dividend, and -getting better as it goes down. You’ll give security, of course? What -is it?’ - -‘Every mortal thing I’ve got—cows and horses, buggy and harness, -furniture, saddles and bridles. Everything but the wife and children. -You may put the whole lot into a Bill of Sale, and sell me up if the -thing goes wrong.’ - -‘Hum! ha! We’ll see about that. But of course the directors look at -the security, and slang me if I give you an over-draft without it. -I’ll have it ready to-morrow. The show’s extra good, I suppose?’ - -‘Out and out; never saw anything like it.’ - -‘Yes—of course, I know, and as safe as houses. They all are. Well, -good-bye; I wish you luck. You won’t stay and dine with me?’ - -‘Thanks very much. I must go home’; and they parted—the banker to dine -at the hotel ordinary, and forget his business worries over a game of -billiards afterwards; the Commissioner to ride home in the dark, -revolving in his mind the pros and cons of the most risky speculation -in which he had embarked for a while—after indeed resolving that -_never again_ would he risk a penny in those infernal gambling, -deceitful, fascinating gold shares which, like the Sirens of old, -lured the unwary to destruction, sooner or later. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -‘What’s been bothering you, my dear?’ queried the partner of his joys -and sorrows—of which, indeed, she had borne more than her share during -the latter years of their married life. ‘Those Antimony Lead people -been having a deputation again? Or the “Western Watchdog” been barking -at you? Never mind them, now. Come and look at Baby—she’s fast asleep, -and looks so sweet and good—you can tackle those dreadful people after -breakfast to-morrow—the proper time, as you always say.’ - -‘The Antimony Lead has relieved me, by “duffering out,” at No. 14—“No -gold, no litigation,” is a safe rule in mining—and the “Watchdog’s” -bark is stilled for a time. But you are right. I have something on my -mind, connected with mining’—and here he seated himself in an -arm-chair, and with his wife’s hand in his, opened his heart, by a -full disclosure of facts, to that faithful helpmate and capable -adviser. - -Mrs. Banneret was a woman of exceptional courage, and capacity in -business matters—such as few men are privileged to win and wear in -the alliance matrimonial. Without binding himself to be guided by her -advice in the battles of life, her husband made a point of hearing her -views—if time permitted—before engaging in action. Cool, sensible, -and, withal, courageous to dare, as well as to suffer, his plans were -often modified, if not changed, after hearing her opinion. - -In this particular skirmish with fortune, he had, however, been -compelled to act promptly on his own responsibility. He knew mines and -miners,—that strange earth table, where lay such wondrous prizes; the -game on which the cards meant want or wealth, and of which the -counters were men’s lives. The opportunity—one of those which come -rarely, if more than once in life—was too precious to let slip. Weak -and low, after his hardships—if he had refused to accede to the old -man’s proposals—he might, in despair, have adopted the fatal remedy, -lost his gold, or transferred the greater part of his interest to one -of the astute speculators always so numerous upon goldfields. - -He had made the plunge. He had put fame and fortune on the cards—more -or less—and must stand the hazard of the dip. Not, of course, that an -officer of his character and experience would have lost his position -by being sold up, and rendered temporarily homeless, as long as -nothing worse could be laid to his charge than imprudence in -speculation. - -There were very few residents in any class, caste, or occupation in -Barrawong who had not had a throw for a prize in the game of ‘golden -hazard.’ But none the less, if it came out a blank, it would involve -serious loss, bitter mortification, and more or less privation to be -shared by every member of the household. - -Mrs. Banneret listened gravely to the narrative, after the first few -sentences, which contained the key to the situation. She said nothing -until the story was ended, and then proceeded to a cross-examination -very much to the point, as her husband had had previous occasion to -note. She commenced cheerfully. So does the _rusé_ barrister, -affecting an air of light raillery, as he reassures the witness, out -of whose heart he resolves to tear the truth before he has -done—regardless of laceration, how cruel soever, to that organ, in the -process. - -But this advocate had no such feeling. She was not an advanced woman. -Gifted with intelligence sufficiently clear to perceive the differing -treatment of the sexes at the hands of society, she was yet fixed in -the opinion that, by marriage and motherhood, a woman’s individuality -has deeply, irrevocably merged in the welfare of the household. -Thenceforth, her sphere was circumscribed. It was her duty, her -privilege, to administer the limited monarchy of that small but -vitally important kingdom. If for insufficient cause she wandered from -it—if for vain pleasures, or intellectual pride, she neglected her -realm—she deserved reprobation as an enemy of the State—deserved to -forfeit the crown of her womanhood. So it was with a heart touched -with wifely sympathy, as well as anxiety for the safety of the family -ark, that she began her inquiry. - -‘Well, my dear, you seem to have “put on the pot,” as your friend -Captain Maurice says—I daresay you have good reason—but we must look -out to have something left _pour tout potage_ besides. You put full -faith in old Jack Waters; I have heard you speak of him.’ - -‘With hardly an exception—gentle or simple—I do not know a man whose -word I would more absolutely trust, and I have known him for ten years -or more.’ - -‘You think the specimens beyond all doubt the richest you have ever -seen? Remember those in the “Coming Event.”’ - -‘Yes, they were good—though nothing to these. I’m almost sorry I -didn’t bring them home with me. I left them in the office safe, to be -quite sure.’ - -‘You are to have a half share also, and the old man wills the whole to -you, in case of accidents? That looks well.’ - -‘I’m sure if you saw him, and them, you would think more of the -affair.’ - -‘Very likely—(thoughtfully). Now, suppose you drive in to-morrow, -instead of riding, and take me to lunch with Mrs. Herbert? I can see -old Waters and drop into the Bank besides. Then I’ll say what I -propose. I’d like to think it over—and now, it’s nearly bedtime—I -suppose you want to smoke?’ - -Mr. Banneret was a reasonable, though not an inveterate smoker. He -told himself that if ever a man needed the great sedative and composer -of thought, this was one of the periods specially suggested by Fate. -So he sat for nearly an hour before the fire in the dining-room, and -meditatively smoked a couple of pipes of ‘rough cut,’ after which, his -habitation being within a few miles of a populous goldfield, and not -in a highly civilised and police-guarded city, he went to bed without -locking a door or securing a window. - -‘They know there’s nothing worth taking in the house of a Police -Magistrate—why should they run the risk of a bullet or a gaol?’ he was -wont to reply, when taxed by his wife with leaving the front door or -the dining-room window open; and as no one ever essayed to break -through and steal during their ten years’ sojourn in Barrawong, his -argument apparently had force. - -Since dawn he had been in Court or office for eight or nine hours—had -ridden ten miles and walked five, so that when eleven o’clock came, he -had done a fair day’s work. As a consequence, he slept soundly until -cockcrow, when he arose with a clear head and renewed faculties, ready -for whatever duties might be cast upon him. - -The family breakfast concluded, the boys had been despatched to -school, the girls to the daily ministrations of the governess, and the -infantry division duly provided for, when Mr. and Mrs. Banneret -departed for Barrawong, in the buggy of the period, behind a pair of -extremely useful nags, moderate as to condition, to which the grass of -the field had chiefly contributed, but exceptional as to pace and -courage. They were equally good in single or double harness, in saddle -also, the near-side horse carrying Mrs. Banneret, who was a daring -rider, with ease and distinction, while no pair within a hundred miles -could, as to road action, ‘see the way they went.’ So the groom -phrased it. They were, in fact, the Commissioner’s chief treasures and -possessions. It was idle to lock up the house while these invaluable -animals were left in an open paddock. Years since, when robbed by -bushrangers, he had shivered in his shoes, _not_ from personal -apprehension, but for fear that the marauders should take a fancy to -Hector, or Paris, and felt quite grateful when they only relieved him -of a couple of gold watches, which he happened to have about him. - -When, therefore, as the clock struck nine, Mr. and Mrs. Banneret -rattled out of the front gate, at the rate of twelve miles an hour, -old Hector holding up his head, and sending out his forelegs, as if he -wanted to do the two hundred miles to the metropolis in forty-eight -hours—the spirits of the ‘leading lady’ and the hero, in what might be -a successful melodrama or a tragedy, as the Fates should decree, -visibly rose. - -‘Feels like old times, doesn’t it? This turnout was new when we were -married. How we used to rattle about! Now we’re a dozen years older, -and still “going strong,” thank God! Steady, Hector! what an old Turk -you are to pull!’ - -‘Yes, my dear,’ said the lady, looking softly in his face, with an -added lustre in her dark eyes—‘we have not done so badly, considering -we lost every penny in the world not long after that interesting -event. We have known hard times, but as long as you and the children -are well, and we can give them a decent education, I care for nothing. -But we are going to risk nearly everything _again_, it seems to -me—poor Hector and Paris too! It’s a plunge, isn’t it?’ - -‘Oh, I can get a friend to buy them in, and we must live on bread and -cheese, till times improve, if the shot misses. But you come in, and -see Waters and his quartz before you form an opinion. Then we’ll talk -it out.’ - -It was a quarter to ten o’clock when they entered the yard of the inn, -where the horses and trap were put up. Throwing the reins to the -groom, and telling him to give the horses no water for half an hour, -Mr. Banneret and his wife entered the hotel—in the parlour of which, -reading the _Western Watchman_, that morning issued, sat Jack Waters -with a serene and satisfied air. Refreshed by sleep it was wonderful -what rest and refreshment had done for him. Though painfully -emaciated, his eye was brighter, his colour improved—his very voice -altered, as he respectfully saluted Mrs. Banneret. - -‘I’m afraid you’ve had a hard time of it, Jack, since you left last -year?’ she said; ‘you’re terribly fallen away, I can see.’ - -‘It was “a close call,” as the Yankee diggers say, ma’am! I thought I -was goin’ under, many a mile from here—but I never gave in, and what -with the water getting better, and the weather cooler, I pulled -through. Yes, Mrs. Banneret! and it was a good day for you and the -children, and the Commissioner here, as I did. If poor old Jack had -dropped, in that fifty-mile dry stage—I won’t say where—it mightn’t -have mattered much to him. It was all in the day’s work—one more fool -of a digger rubbed out. But to _you_, ma’am, that has always had a -kind word and a bit of help for every one, and your boys and girls -that’s been brought up to do the same—it _will_ matter to the last day -of your lives. You believe me, it’s God’s truth, as I’m a living man -this day.’ - -And here the miner stood up and gazed with a far-off, dreamy look, as -if beyond the place in which he stood—beyond other lands and seas—as -he named a desert region as yet scarce heard of, from which even the -reckless prospector often turned away, the haunt of the thirst demon -and the fever fiend. - -‘Westhampton!’ said the pair simultaneously. ‘Why, you don’t mean to -say you’ve been _there_! Whatever made you think of it? Why, it’s -thousands of miles from here.’ - -‘I _was_ there, anyhow—and now I’m back here. There was a voyage to -take—I had money enough for that, and I saved as much as would take me -back. I had to walk over a hundred mile to get there, and double as -much to come back. What I went through, no one will ever know. But I -got back to the ship. Then I started to walk from the coast, and here -I am; but there wasn’t much to spare, was there, Commissioner?’ - -‘My time’s up,’ he replied, looking at his watch. ‘Court morning, and -there’s always some one waiting to see me. I must go now, but you tell -Mrs. Banneret all about it. She’ll be in the claim too, you know’; and -the man of many duties and responsibilities walked forth to receive a -report from the police of a mining accident, with loss of life; to fix -the date for hearing an exhaustive action for trespass; to issue -warrants—sign summonses and Miners’ Rights; to report upon complaints -made against himself to the Secretary for Mines; to sit in a -bankruptcy meeting—as also to act as general adviser, father -confessor, and guardian of minors in pressing cases of the most -delicate social and financial nature. - -The lady’s colloquy with the miner was short, but material to the -issue. ‘I have come in to-day,’ she said, ‘on purpose to see you about -this speculation. Mr. Banneret believes in you, as a straight, -reliable man! So do I, from what I have seen and heard. But this is a -neck or nothing venture. We have little to spare as it is, and if we -lose this five hundred pounds we shall be ruined—and you know that the -oldest miners are deceived sometimes. It is a long way off, too.’ - -‘If it wasn’t a long way off, it wouldn’t be what it is, ma’am. I’ve -been mining these thirty year, and never see a reef like it afore. Of -course it’s not too late to go back on it, though I’d rather you had -it than any one else I know—you helped me afore, you see, when I had -my tent burnt, and I’d like to do you good.’ - -‘How did you come to know of it?’ - -‘Well, it was this way. You know, ma’am, us diggers often write and -lay one another on to good things. An old mate of mine had been -campin’ out and prospectin’ round there, for more’n a year, livin’ -hard, eatin’ lizards, pigface, what not—nigh perished for want of -water, until he come across this here reef. Well, he goes back to -Southern Cross, where he gets laid up with rheumatic fever, and close -up dies—ain’t right yet. Well, he wires and lays me on, and I’m to -give him an eighth share, when it’s floated—as floated it will be—and -for a price that’ll astonish some people. I can’t say more, ma’am, -now, and every word of it’s God’s truth.’ - -‘I think you’ve said enough,’ said the lady, bending her gaze upon him -with a searching glance, which he returned steadfastly and half -wistfully. ‘Whatever Mr. Banneret has promised, of course he will -perform. You may trust my husband to carry it out, and I feel more -satisfied now I have heard you explain matters.’ - -‘If we can’t trust the Commissioner, ma’am, we can’t trust -nobody—that’s what all of us miners says; there’s not a man on the -field that don’t say the same. So I’ll wish you good-bye, ma’am, and -my sarvice to you.’ - -‘Good-bye, and I hope it will bring good fortune to all of us.’ - -That afternoon, about half-past four o’clock, the Commissioner closed -his office earlier than usual. As they were speeding along the -homeward road, winding between yawning shafts and over the insecure -bridges spanning the water-races, which gurgled and bubbled beneath -the horses’ feet, Mrs. Banneret thus addressed her husband: - -‘Had a good day, my dear?’ - -‘Very fair, all things considered. Long Small Debts Court. Big police -case. Inquest on poor fellow killed in Happy Valley. Deputation from -the “Great Intended”—want the base line swung. Report urgently -required in the last jumping case. Got through them all except the -last—they can wait a week. I must go on the ground.’ - -‘Not a bad day’s work either, for an overpaid, under-worked Civil -servant, as the Radical papers call you; and now I’ll bring in _my_ -report, which is urgent—immediate, and can’t “wait a week,” whatever -else can.’ - -‘Go ahead, my dear!’ said her husband, lighting his pipe, and -steadying the impatient horses to a ten-mile trot. ‘I’m all -attention.’ - -‘In the first place, I had a short talk with old Waters which -impressed me. He thoroughly believes in the find, and I believe in -_him_. So do you. If his tale is true, our fortune is made; and though -the risk is great, the speculation is no more imprudent than some we -know of that ended triumphantly.’ - -‘Of course, there was Lindsay, district Surveyor, just as hard worked -and no better paid than I am, took early shares in Rocky Hill, went -home with £200,000 or more! Desmond went in with the “first robbers” -in Valley Gorge—came out with over £100,000. Very cautious men both of -them, too. Nearly not going in. Higgleson declined—swears now, when he -thinks of it.’ - -‘Well, my dear, these are truths—stranger than fiction, as the eminent -person says. Shows that all mining ventures are not swindles; and now -for my proposal. You haven’t had leave of absence lately?’ - -‘Not for four years. Leave obtainable, but no visible means, if I had -gone.’ - -‘Quite so—couldn’t be better put. But now the case is different. You -have the five hundred pounds to come and go on—Oh! I may say here that -I called at the Bank and asked Mr. Bright to show me the specimens. -They made my mouth water. What necklaces and rings—pearls and diamonds -I saw in the future—_if_ the reef “went down,” as old Waters said. How -the shares would go up! That wasn’t the only thing I saw. I saw -schools and colleges—travel, society for the children, a house in -town—a carriage (which my soul loveth),—all these I saw in those -pretty white and fawn-coloured stones with their threads and veins of -gold—pure gold running through and through them. Mr. Bright thinks -well of the affair too, I can see.’ - -‘Yes, he does—and he ought to be a judge. How many a ton of that same -quartz, more or less auriferous, has he handled in his time! Many a -pound has he lost over it too.’ - -‘Well, we can’t all win, of course; but I’m with you in this, my dear, -heart and soul—and if it breaks down, and we have to live on dry bread -for a couple of years, you shall never hear a whimper from me.’ - -‘I know that, my dear. Pluck enough for half-a-dozen men—let alone -women. What about this leave? Do you mean——?’ - -‘Of course I do; apply _at once_ for three months’ leave. Pressure of -work, and so on. I’ve noticed you _do_ look rather fagged now and -then—though I never said so. Urgent private affairs also. Then _go -with him_. You’ll have the spending of the cash. He can’t object to -that. I’m surprised you didn’t see it yourself. He might drink, or be -drugged, and lose it all. Where should we be then? Depend upon it, -that’s the thing to do. It makes all safe, once for all.’ - -‘I see your point. I might have thought of it, as you say; but they’ll -have to send a man in my place. Every one wouldn’t do. However, -there’s sure to be some goldfields official knocking about who’d like -the change. In for a penny, etc. I’ll write to-night. But how will -_you_ get on?’ - -‘Have your pay put into my private account while you’re away. I’ll -manage somehow. The five hundred pounds ought to frank you there, and -do all the taking up and so on—with care.’ - -‘Yes, and careful enough we shall have to be; there’ll be no more when -that’s gone. It’s the “last chance” in every sense of the word.’ - -‘I shall be lonely enough while you’re away, my dear; but we have had -to do without each other before—and must again. You’ll write -regularly—a letter will always cheer me up. I shan’t suffer for want -of employment, that’s one thing.’ - -The Commissioner got his leave of absence on the ground of ‘urgent -private affairs’—which was only just, as he had been hard at it for -several years, without change or respite, in one of the most -difficult, anxious, wearing occupations in the Civil Service: that of -Warden, and Police Magistrate, on a large alluvial goldfield. To rule -over an excitable population, varying from ten to twenty thousand; to -hear and decide the interminable mining lawsuits arising from the -production of tons of gold—literally _tons_, won, held, and -distributed under a code of mining laws, of a sufficiently complicated -nature, and appearing to the unlearned a mass of confused, -contradictory regulations, was no sinecure. The amounts, too, in -question were often incredibly large, so that a mistake in law, or an -error in judgment, magnified by the local press, assumed gigantic -proportions in the eye of the public. In the police department of -jurisdiction, murders and robberies, though not alarmingly frequent, -were occasionally matters of by no means a _quantité négligeable_. -Excitable public meetings were common, and, as an outlet for -smouldering popular feeling, answered a good purpose. - -But, on the whole, Barrawong was an appointment which a gentleman with -prejudices in favour of a quiet life would have found singularly -unsuitable. - -As for Jack, he fell in with the proposition warmly and loyally from -its first mention. Distrustful, from past experience, of his -will-power in the way of resistance in the grip of terrible drink -temptation, to which, in the past, he had succumbed full many a time -and oft, he was not sorry to have the custody of the joint capital -placed in safe hands. And yet nothing is a more astonishing psychical -phenomenon than the unbroken abstention from alcohol which the -intermittent drunkard will and can practise. Having so resolved, the -whilom victim will sit with roystering comrades, whose full glasses -pass before his face—lodge in hotels, where he sees (and smells) the -soul-destroying liquid from morning to night, and under the fire of -this temptation—over the grave of so many broken vows and tearful -resolutions—he will remain as unshaken as a teetotaller in a -coffee-house. - -What a miracle it seems! What a superhuman effort must the first days -of sobriety require! How does it put to shame the better born, the -better instructed, whose every-day resolutions they are often so -powerless to abide by! - -But it is a time-bargain with the fiend, alas! in so many—in by far -the majority of instances. In ‘an hour that he knoweth not,’ the Enemy -of man asserts his power, and the victim falls—to be cast into the -outer darkness of despair—of hopeless surrender—to a ruined life, an -unhonoured death. - -A fortnight’s rest and good living set up the returned prospector to -such an extent that his former comrades hardly recognised him in the -neatly dressed, alert personage, who gave out that he was open to -invest in a ‘show,’ but wasn’t up to any more prospecting for a while. -‘Not good enough,’ and so on. Thought he’d take a trip to Melbourne to -see a friend. This resolve he carried out rather suddenly, it having -been so arranged, the partners not holding it expedient that they -should leave in company, or that it should be matter for general -information that they were bound upon a joint mining speculation. As -to the tempting local ventures, then common among all classes on a -large goldfield, Mr. Banneret had always studiously abstained from the -slightest connection with them. - -‘No!’ was his uniform answer to applications of a persuasive nature—‘I -am here to decide upon questions of immense importance to these people -over whom I am placed as a judge and a ruler. To inspire confidence in -the impartiality of my decisions, I cannot be financially associated -with any mining property on _this_ goldfield. Say that my partner, or -partners, do not come before me in any judicial matter. Such are the -ramifications of mining association, that the partners, and friends of -_their_ partners, are certain at some time or other to be suitors in -my Court. I should not then stand in the same relation to them as to -perfectly unknown or detached parties to a suit. Thus I fully -resolved, from my first acceptance of this office, to hold myself free -from the slightest ground of suspicion.’ - -‘As for this affair,’ he told his wife, talking over the matter before -his departure, ‘it is entirely different; the locality is in another -colony, under different laws and another government. If it comes off, -I shall be indifferent to all mining law, except as it affects our -particular lease—which I shall take up directly I get there.’ - -The last farewell was said, the last embrace given. With a brave and -tearless face, but an aching heart, the loyal wife bade adieu to the -one man that the world held for her—stood looking after the -fast-receding vehicle which was to meet the coach at the country -town—waving her handkerchief till the turning-point of the road was -reached, then, with falling tears, walked slowly back to the cottage, -and busied herself with the never-ending needlework—over which the -tears flowed so fast at times that a pause in the stitching was -necessary. In her chamber she poured out her heart in fervent -supplication, that he whom she loved and trusted above all other -created beings might return to her, safe as to health and successful -in his enterprise, if so God willed, but if otherwise, in His good -Providence, let him only be spared to return in health to glad his -wife’s and children’s eyes, and her soul would be satisfied—‘Thy will, -not mine be done, O Lord!’ were the closing words of the heartfelt, -simple petition. Rising with an expression of renewed confidence and -trusting faith, she smoothed her hair, bathed her face, and with a -composed and steadfast countenance betook herself to the -ever-recurring duties of the household. - - * * * * * - -The wrench of parting with wife and children was over. Mr. Banneret, -like most strong men of an observant turn of mind, enjoyed change. A -born traveller, he was equally at home on sea and land, hill or dale, -plain or forest—hot or cold, wet or dry—it made no difference to him. -There was always some one, or something, to see and be interested in. -His was a chiefly sympathetic constitution of mind, which could, in -all literal truth, be described as irrepressible and universal. - -Such being the case, he had no sooner looked up Waters, whom he found -well and hearty, at the hostelry agreed upon, in Melbourne, and taken -passage in the first steamer bound for far Westralia, than Hope, the -day star, which had illumined so many darksome passages of his life, -arose, and amid the twilight of the uncertain adventure, commenced to -glow with a mild but steady irradiation. The next afternoon found them -on the wave, units of a crowd, bound for the newest Eldorado. - -Under instructions, an agent had arranged for the purchase of a -strong, but light-running waggonette, and three horses, together with -the ordinary necessaries for an overland journey through new, untried -country. Reduced to their smallest weight and compass, there was still -a sufficient load for the team, probably condemned to indifferent fare -on the road. The selection had been careful—no one is a better judge -of travel requisites than that man of many makeshifts and dire -experiences, the mining prospector. The outfit needed but to be paid -for, and shipped, and the first act of the melodrama began. - -Voyages are much alike. They differ occasionally in length, safety, -comfort, and convenience. But these are details. The chief matters are -departure, and arrival in port. When the second part of the contract -is unfulfilled, the performance borders on a tragedy. In this case the -contract was carried out—after a week’s voyage, they duly arrived at -their distant stage. - -‘So this is another colony,’ said Mr. Banneret, looking around on the -small old-fashioned town—so long settled—so sparsely populated—so -meagre in tokens of civilisation, in contrast with the coast cities of -the East. They were not, of course, over-fastidious. There were decent -hotels—even a Club for people with introductions. To the Commissioner -unstinted hospitality was tendered. He considered it, however, -expedient to pitch the tent and pack their movables in the waggon: to -begin to camp in earnest, as indeed they would be compelled to do -during the remainder of the journey. This would be the more economical -method of travelling, and the safety of their property, including the -horses, would be assured. - -On the morrow Waters proceeded to explain his plan of action. - -They had, first of all, to travel for a week in a nor’-westerly -direction, at the end of which they would reach a mining camp or -township. - -The track after that was fairly well marked; but the feed was bad, or -none at all—water scarce and precarious. There were all sorts of -disadvantages. ‘It was the worst country in Australia,’ Jack said, -averring that he had seen everything bad in his time. It would take -them more than a month, even if they had luck. They would have to -carry everything with them; even forage for the horses. But at the -end, however long and wearisome, there was a claim—a reef, the like of -which he, John Waters, had never seen before. ‘Then the sooner we’re -off the better,’ said Mr. Banneret. ‘We can get everything ready -to-morrow, and make a short journey at any rate. The great thing is -the _start_. It’s mostly plain sailing afterwards.’ - -So the next day everything was done, fitted, and made ready for a -three months’ journey, as indeed it needed to be. Waiting and working -at the claim would not be very dissimilar from the wayfaring—except -that they would be stationary. As for the hard work, with fare to -match, Mr. Banneret had had similar experiences in his youth, and -believed that he could do what any other man could do, of whatever -age, class, or condition. - -By this time his ‘mate’—a ‘dividing mate,’ in the eye of the law, -socially and otherwise—had, as he himself expressed it, ‘picked up -surprisin’’—after the first week or two on the road, he would be (he -stated) in hard condition again, fit to go for a man’s life. -Originally of the flawless constitution peculiarly the heritage of the -Anglo-Saxon, and, as such, contemptuous of hardship by land or sea, -nothing but his own folly had power to harm it. The wonderful -recuperative power common to the race had reasserted itself—conjointly -with a regular system of food and rest. The typical miner’s boundless -optimism and sanguine expectation bore him up as upon wings—and, as -they drove along in the clear atmosphere, under a cloudless sky, the -Commissioner’s face lost its troubled expression. - -The ‘township,’ when they got there, was such a one as the -Commissioner had never before seen in all his varied experiences; -never in his dreams had he imagined such a mining camp. A person of -restricted imagination, or feeble sympathies, might even have -described the landscape as ‘unspeakably desolate, and ghastly.’ A -certain appearance of grass, even if trodden down, and fed off by -horses and bullocks, had always been visible on goldfields where he -had borne rule formerly. - -Here there was none, absolutely _none_. Dust of a red hue, subtly -pervading all nature, was the chief elemental feature. Water was more -or less available for sluicing, puddling, cradling, or other purposes -connected with mining operations,—here there was _none_ to be seen -except in the small quantities required for partial lavation and for -engine work. This last was of course procurable, but being generally -salt or brackish, required to be subjected to the condenser, lest -damage to the engine should ensue. In the hotels it was dearer than -wine or beer in the coast cities—was always, indeed, _charged for -separately_ in the bars when supplied with alcohol! - -‘What a desert!’ thought the Commissioner. ‘Have we reached Arabia by -any magical process? And here come the camels proper to the scene.’ As -he spoke, a long string of those Eastern-seeming animals came nearer, -and the Afghan drivers, turbaned and with flowing garb, heightened the -resemblance. - -‘This is a queer shop, sir,’ said Waters, as he observed his -companion’s looks of amazement and curiosity. ‘Barrawong wasn’t -over-pleasant, as you might say, on a hot day, with the north wind -blowin’ the dust in your eyes—but it was a king to this; and then the -river—you could allers have a swim; and nothing freshens a man up like -a good header into cool, deep water after his day’s work.’ - -‘It certainly is not a place a man would pick to spend his -honeymoon—though I suppose some adventurous couples have done that; -but, of course, the main thing is the gold. Men didn’t come out here -to hunt for scenery, or farm-lands. Are they on good gold? If they -are, all the rest will follow.’ - -‘Well, sir, this is the richest goldfield in Australia, just now, and -likely to be the biggest. _You_ know, if that keeps on, they’ll get -everything else they want, and more too, directly; but we shan’t stop -here long enough to think about it, hot or cold,’ said Waters. ‘I’ll -watch the horses to-night, for there’s a lot of cross coves about, -who’d steal the teeth out of your head if you slept sound enough. We’d -better load up all we’ll want for a month or two, and get away afore -sundown to-morrer. You might write out a list of things we’ll want. -I’ll mind the camp till you come back.’ This being arranged, Banneret -went into town after a frugal lunch, and walked down the main street, -which, with a few others crossing it at right angles, constituted the -nucleus of the infant city. A few large and fairly well kept hotels, -with ornamental bars and spacious billiard and dining rooms, -accommodated the floating population, of whom the greater number took -their meals there, in preference to undergoing the doubtful -experiment of housekeeping. The expense was considerable; but those -who had shares in dividend-paying mines could well afford war prices, -while to those making short visits to this and other ‘fields’—partly -on business, and partly for curiosity—a few pounds could make but -slight difference. Of course, the township bore a family likeness to -all other mining centres,—one long main street, with others branching -off at right angles, the frontage to which was filled with cabins, -huts, cottages, tents, of every size, shape, and colour. The roofs -were chiefly of corrugated iron, which, unsightly as a building -material, yet enabled the possessor to collect rain-water. When the -walls, or rather sides, were not of the same material they were of -hessian—of slabs, or weatherboard. Some indeed were of bark—the -climate being consistently hot and dry. The nights, however, were -cool, as the goldfield stood fairly high above sea-level. When it did -rain, it came down with tropical force and volume, as was seen by the -depth of the ravines. But this state of matters occurred too rarely to -occasion serious thought. Here and there tiny gardens, wherein grew a -few carefully tended vegetables and flowers, showed that the soil was -not wholly barren. The pepper tree (_Schinus molle_), friend of the -pioneer horticulturist, had already made a lodgment, as well as the -Kurrajong or Cooramin (_Sterculia_), the slow growth of which, -however, few of the present population would remain to witness. - -All purchases made, the team fed and rested, the loading arranged as -only the experienced overlander knows how, and supper over, a start -was made by the light of a rising moon. - -‘We take this track, sir,’ said Waters. ‘It’s the main road to the -“twenty-mile soak,” and give out as we’re goin’ to Kurnalpi. There’s -whips o’ tracks for ten or twelve mile; and then we strike due west. -If any of ’em follers us up, we can say we’re makin’ for -Kimberley—that’ll choke ’em off, if anything will.’ - -‘I suppose there are men on these fields that will track up -prospectors if they believe they’ve made a find?’ - -‘In course there are, sir. Chaps as like pickin’ up the fruits of -other men’s work, and ain’t game to tackle the hardships theirselves.’ - -So the strangely constituted companions journeyed on, by the faint -wavering light of the struggling moon, sometimes obscured, but -generally available, as the track, so far, was across open plains or -downs, sandy, gravelly, or rock-strewn by turns, but offering no -serious obstacle to the passage of horse or man. What timber there was -consisted chiefly of scrub and brushwood, mulga or mallee. Some of it -was available for camel food; but, in a general way, it appeared to -the Commissioner as a land accursed of God and man—unfitted for -providing sustenance for man or beast. - -As the night dragged through, he could not but consider the contrast -between his present position and that which he had abandoned in order -to follow what might be a delusive phantom, a ‘Will-o’-the-wisp’—an -‘ignis fatuus,’ specially provided for leading astray wayfarers, -blinded by the ‘auri sacra fames.’ Suppose he lost his way, broke down -in health or eyesight—the most vulnerable point in the explorer’s -armoury? Waters was old, and though apparently strong, and inured to -hardship, could not go on for ever, or if he missed his way to the -Waterloo Spring?—they were far apart and the aboriginal natives were -indifferent or hostile—in any case, averse, from their standpoint, to -point out or conduct the party to the inestimable water-store. What -might be his fate? And what—still more harrowing thought—the condition -of his wife and family, deprived of his protecting care, and having -exhausted his slender store of earnings—the fruit of many an hour of -toil and self-denial? He had reached the point of almost intolerable -doubt and distress of mind when a cheery shout from his companion, who -held the reins, dislodged the nightmare which he had conjured up. - -‘Yes, Captain, yonder’s the Black Peak! I was pretty near told out -when I struck it, and that done when I got there that I never expected -to see home again. I’d been walking half the night, and all day—my -water-bag was empty—I’d had nothing to eat to speak of for a week -past, just a morsel of biscuit now and then. My boots was wore -through, my feet bleedin’, and that sore I could hardly drag myself -along. By George! if a digger wants to have the heart of a lion, as -people say, what must a prospector? Heat and cold, hunger and -thirst—blacks to fight, off and on—whites if he’s got a bit of gold, -nigh hand as bad, perhaps worse, as they’re more cunning. How many a -heap of bones lies bleaching in the sun, between here and Kurnalpi! -Sometimes they’re found, and there’s papers on ’em that tells where -the only son, or the favourite youngest one, laid down to die, and -never come home, all the years they was expecting of him to open the -door of the old place and say, “Here I am, with a brown face and a bag -of nuggets”—as the story-writers tell us. Well, well! I’m ramblin’ -away, just like a chap I _did_ hear once, as I come on just in time to -give him a bite and a sup, and save his precious life. How he was -a-talkin’ and goin’ on! I heard him a matter of half a mile afore I -got to him. He talked and talked—thought he saw his people again, and -they wouldn’t let him in. Then he’d scream and yell, and curse -frightful, and say the devil was coming for him—just for all the world -like a man with the jim-jams—the D.T.s, or whatever doctors call it. -There ain’t so much difference between what men and women say when -once they’re off their head. We’re all queer animals—larned or -unlarned—and that’s a fact. - -‘And now, sir, as I’ve talked enough rot for a while, only I thought -you was lookin’ rather down on it, and it might liven you up a bit, I -see we’re on a bit of good saltbush where we can stop and give the -horses a feed. I’ll fry a bit of the mutton for a relish, and make a -pot of tea. There’s a plenty of the damper left as I baked a while -back. We can take it easy while you have a “bange.” I’ll watch the -nags, in case any one comes along. We can push on afterwards. Anyhow -the horses will be all the better for a spell.’ - -Waters bustled about, unharnessing and hobbling the horses, which -immediately began to nibble the saline bushes that seemed to have -found a patch of congenial soil. Walking down a small gully or shallow -ravine, he was fortunate enough to discover a tiny ‘soak’ under a -rock, being directed thereto by a brace of the beautiful bronzewing -pigeons. These birds will fly great distances to a spring or -water-hole of any sort, but are difficult to shoot, as their habit is -to drink rapidly, and fly back to their haunts so suddenly that it is -a case of snap-shot, or too late. - -The soak proved sufficient to give the team a drink, and also to fill -up the ten-gallon keg, which was kept as a reserve in case of need. - -After this halt Mr. Banneret felt easier in his mind, and more -sanguine as to the results of the expedition. - -The sky was cloudless, of course. The desert sun had shone its -fiercest for the last two hours. The pocket thermometer and aneroid -registered 90 degrees. Before the close of day it would probably reach -105 or 110. - -‘We’ll not start till after sundown, sir,’ said the practical partner. -‘I want to blind our trail a bit, so as we shan’t be follered up just -yet. By gum! if this ain’t the very identical mob o’ horses come a -purpose, like as if it was ordered. See them camels?’ - -‘Yes! what a string of them, with Afghan drivers. What have they to do -with us?’ - -‘You’ll find out, sir, soon’s they come a bit closer.’ - -It may not be generally known that horses have an insuperable dread of -camels when first seen. It is on record that, on the first progress of -an explorer’s expedition down the Darling River, the station horses -with one accord fled from the river frontage, stampeding towards the -‘back blocks,’ and were recovered with difficulty days and weeks -afterwards. - -On this occasion, there happened to be an overland mob (drove) of -horses on their way to the Southern Cross goldfield—coming in a -different direction from that of the travellers. Directly they caught -sight of the camel train, they swung across the road, and headed -apparently for Coongarrie, in spite of the utmost efforts of the -drivers, who by cries, yells, and stockwhip cracks, strove to stop or -wheel them. ‘That’s all right for us, sir,’ said Waters, who, after -several perfunctory efforts to assist the men in charge, was content -to let them go their own way. ‘We’ll be off as soon as we can harness -up, sir, and drive along the way they’ve gone. They’ve made tracks -enough to cover ours ten times over. Next day we’ll hit out due north, -where the ground’s that bloomin’ hard and rocky as it won’t hold a -track—unless they had a nigger with them, which it’s not likely—not -hereabouts, anyway.’ - -As they drove quietly along in the line of the flying squadron, it -really appeared as if circumstance had aided them in an unforeseen but -perfectly effectual manner. Some miles farther on they met the runaway -mob, considerably steadied by their escapade, being driven quietly -back, with a man in front of them, who was keeping closely to their -track, as in the outward run. - -‘That makes it just right for us, sir,’ said the old man; ‘they’ll -knock out the track of our wheels, for good and all, so that no man -can tell where we left the main trail—and they’ve twisted, and twisted -so, as any feller that’s trackin’ us up won’t have any show of hittin’ -our dart, any more’n a mob of kangaroos.’ - -Both partners knew enough of the working of claims on new goldfields -to judge how essential it was to their success that they should be -able to take possession, undisturbed by the tumult and confusion of a -rush on new ground, known or reported to be rich. Wild exaggerations, -and rumours of Aladdin’s caves, would pass from camp to camp, with -every fresh arrival of miners. The Commissioner had seen before the -lonely creek flat, or fern-fringed gully, converted within forty-eight -hours into a populous township, with main street, shops, hotels, -billiard-rooms, more or less effective for their needs; while every -acre for miles around the reef or alluvial deposit was pegged out and -jealously guarded by armed men, whom it needed but little imagination -to believe capable of shedding blood in defence of their legal or -fancied rights. - -He now began to comprehend that their present action was decided by an -experienced and capable coadjutor, and resolved to continue in the -position of sleeping partner until circumstances demanded a change. - -Many days and nights were passed in desert travelling, in more or less -monotonous fashion. The days were hot—almost intolerably so; the sand -and gravel of the soil, unrelieved by pasture, even of the humblest -description, seemed to burn the very soles of their boots. What then -would happen if they were attacked by the dreaded ophthalmia, the -‘sandy blight’ of the colonists, he shuddered to think of. He had -known of terrible experiences when the sufferers were far from medical -aid, so of course had brought the accepted tinctures with them, had -invested in ‘solar topees’ and sunshades—that is to say, _he_ had; but -his companion, with the reckless indifference of the average miner to -every kind of danger, trusted to chance and a hitherto unbroken -constitution. ‘That fever pretty nigh knocked me out, sir—I _was_ bad -when you seen me in Barrawong. But it was the starvation and it -together that near settled me. I won’t cut it so fine again, believe -me.’ This statement was made at the close of the day—when the final -journey was commenced. The nights, Banneret was glad to remark, were -fairly cool, and free from the mosquito pest, the elevation above the -sea being greater than would be at first conjectured. - -‘We strike an old camel track,’ said his companion, after they were -fairly started; ‘it was made just after the Kurnalpi field broke out. -They don’t take that line now, and just as well. It’s wonderful how -they missed our “bonanza,” but that’s what you’ll notice on every -field—they’ll go washin’ and cradlin’ in every gully _but_ the right -’un, and almost break their shins over the real thing without ever -knowin’ it.’ - -The dawn was painting the pale east with gold streaks and crimson -patches as they broke camp and headed for a peak, of which the -irregular outline stood in sharp relief against the glowing sky. They -had quitted the camel-track, obscured in places by the blown sand and -occasional storm showers, and now struck boldly across the limitless -plain. Their landmark was distinct, and encouraging, as relieving them -from anxiety about the route. As the Commissioner gazed upon the bold -outline of the fantastic peak, one thought possessed his mind, -dominating all others. Here was the goal of his ambition: the secret -hope which had during long years of struggle and self-denial kept -alive the prospect of eventual prosperity, such as should comprehend -peace of mind, in a well-ordered country home near the metropolis, -education of the children, social privileges, with a modest allowance -of travel and art culture, and generally unrestricted rational -enjoyment. Would this mysterious mountain lead them to a veritable -Sinbad’s valley of diamonds, or would the fairy gold, by virtue of the -magical transmutation which seems connected with rich deposits of the -precious metals, be for them rendered illusionary and disappointing? -Would they find the sacred spot already captured and despoiled; -desecrated by alien pegs, and filled with defiant claimants? He knew -the keenness with which a prospector’s track could be followed up—by -men versed in the lore of the wilderness—the outcome of those who, -like his guide and partner, ‘had done a perish,’ in goldfields argot, -not less hazardous than he; their safety, their very existence, -dependent upon such a hazard—a mere cast of the die, as might be this. -It grew, this dark surmise, raged and traversed his brain, increasing -in force and virulence, until he almost imagined that he saw in the -dim distance the outline of a tent, the form of a man, the thin thread -of smoke which goes up from a tiny desert fire, such as, God in -Heaven! he remembered noting so well of old. It was a trick of the -imagination doubtless. Was he indeed becoming lightheaded? Was -distemper of the brain setting in? He was wont to regard himself as a -level-headed person, cool in emergency, steadfast to bear untoward -circumstance. He would wait, and divert his thoughts for a while. He -would drive out one frame of mind by compelling another—several other -imagined states of mind to take its place. He thought then, at first -resolutely—then as the picture became more clear and vivid, of the -happy day of his arrival—by coach, of course: they had quitted the -train at midnight, and taken their seats, secured by telegram, in the -well-horsed, well-lighted, punctual conveyance of Cobb and Co., which -has earned so many a blessing from home-returning travellers. The long -night was past; the dawn discovered the well-known goldfields road, -from which in half an hour—ye gods! but half an hour!—the main street -of the old familiar township, with its improvised banks, stores, -shops, and hotels, would burst upon the view. Ha! well—I have -been dreaming to some purpose. The vision fades. Let us hope that -the hill will not suffer the fate of ‘Poor Susan’s,’ in those -exquisite lines of the poet. Yes! it stands there, clear, -neutral-tinted—nude—frowning, as doubtless it has done for centuries, -æons, if you will—since the central fires lifted it from the womb of -Dame Hertha. The day is older, but the unclouded sky and the -atmosphere are of such clearness that distant objects can be discerned -with almost perfect certainty; he is awake and alert now, if ever—his -senses have _not_ played him false—there _is_ a tent, at no very great -distance, and sitting by it, on a box, is a man smoking, while another -appears to be putting together articles of camp furniture. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Apparently at the same moment the guide, who is walking ahead as -usual, has made up his mind as to the apparition, for he halts and -walks back to the cart. - -‘What the deuce is that? Who do you think they are?’ - -‘Well, sir, they’re a couple of “travellers,” on the same lay as -ourselves—far as I can make out. They’ve no horse, nor cart—so they’ve -been goin’ slow, naturally. They’ve not found our show, or they’d ’a -stopped on it—or be makin’ back to raise an outfit. I can’t quite make -out whether they’re goin’ on to the hill, or just on the turn-back for -want of grub. We’d better act cautious with them after seein’ who they -are.’ - -‘We ought to go over to them?’ - -‘That’s my idee, sir. If we head for the mountain, they’ll be sure to -foller us up, thinkin’ we’ve reasons for it. It’s too late to pretend -to go back. They’ve seen we _were_ headin’ for the hill, anyway, and -it won’t bluff ’em if we turn round, besides losin’ time.’ - -‘I agree with you,’ said the Commissioner. ‘Put the saddle on the -leader; I’ll ride over and talk to them.’ - -‘All right, sir; if they’re men to be trusted we can take ’em in as -mates. We can’t hold a Reward Claim, or leastways work it, with only -our two selves. There’s enough for all, if we can only get to work.’ - -The leading horse was saddled. On riding over to the camp of the -wayfarers, the Commissioner was at once struck by its peculiar -appearance. The articles scattered about the door of the bell tent -were certainly not those of the ordinary miner. The towels were of -better than usual quality; the bath sponges, arranged for drying, were -larger than usual—other articles of the toilet similarly distinctive. - -‘Pleased to see you, sir!’ said one of the young men, with a clear -British accent. ‘’Fraid we can’t offer you much in the way of -refreshment. Point of fact we’ve had nothing to eat for the last -forty-eight hours but dried apples—they’re not so bad when they’ve -been well soaked.’ - -‘Don’t exaggerate, Denzil!’ said his companion. ‘They’re just a trifle -better than stewed boots, if you ask me. But we’re alive, which is -something—though how long we shall last out is a very, very doubtful -question.’ - -‘Permit me to introduce myself as Arnold Banneret. My mate and I are -travelling due north, unless we strike something attractive.’ - -‘Just our case,’ said the elder of the two young men—they were neither -of them far from the legal standard of manhood—‘except that we’re -travelling due south—isn’t it south, Denzil? I’m not much of a -geographical chap, but we’re going back to Coolgardie—if we can get -there. Sorry we can’t join forces—awfully so; give you my word.’ - -The Commissioner gazed searchingly at the strangers. Accustomed to -reading faces—and in circumstances where a mistake might have cost him -dear, he had often been forced to act upon a hasty summing-up of -presumed character. He did so in this instance. ‘Swells out of luck,’ -was his unspoken verdict. ‘Temporarily, of course. The dark one has -the face, the bold and steady look, of a born explorer. He’ll go far -yet. The other boy is the well-bred youth of the day, with little -experience but that of Oxford or Cambridge. Athletics are chiefly in -his line. But they are men as well as gentlemen, I’m convinced.’ - -‘Our acquaintance has been short,’ he said, ‘but may develop later on. -As I have a proposal to make, may I ask whom I have the pleasure of -addressing?’ - -‘My friend’s name is Southwater. My own name Newstead,’ said the -‘traveller.’ ‘As you say, we haven’t seen each other before, but are -quite ready to consider any offer that it suits you to make.’ His -friend nodded assent. ‘From present appearances the advantage seems -likely to be entirely on our side.’ - -‘We shall see,’ said the Commissioner; ‘probably it may be mutual. In -the meanwhile, will you come over and take breakfast with me? I’ll go -on ahead and speak to my mate.’ And he cantered off. - -The young men lost no time in collecting their property, and arranging -it into the ‘swags’ of the period, with a celerity to be acquired only -by experience. - -‘This _is_ a throw-in!’ said the younger man to his friend. ‘I wonder -who our distinguished stranger is? There was a note of authority in -his manner, though nothing could be more courteous than his bearing. -Looks like an army man—though we can’t be certain. But I’ll swear he’s -held a command somewhere. At any rate we are sure of getting something -to eat. People with a waggonette always have a stock of provisions -which we poor swagmen can’t rival.’ - -‘Swagmen, indeed!’ laughed his friend. ‘I wonder what the girls at -Brancepeth or Aunt Eleanora would think if they saw us now?’ - -‘Why, of course, that they always knew it would come to this. Probably -turn bushrangers before we’d done. At any rate we’re not likely to be -robbed. _Cantabit vacuus_—eh?’ - -On reaching the waggonette they found the regulation meal laid out -upon a board supported by tressels, a portable affair such as -surveyors carry. People living much in tents are ingenious in -contrivances for comfort. There were also camp-stools, equally light -and effective. Corned beef and damper, with tin plates, were set out, -while the inevitable ‘billy’ was boiling near a small but hot fire. - -‘This is John Waters, my partner, gentlemen,’ said their entertainer; -‘as a miner of experience I guarantee him.’ Here old Jack shook hands -solemnly with the new arrivals, while regarding them with fixed and -scrutinising eye. ‘You will find him a “white man” in the best sense -of the word. After lunch I shall be happy to talk business. Allow me -to help you to this excellent corned beef.’ - -‘Thanks awfully; we shan’t be long, I assure you—we’ve not had a -square meal since we left Coolgardie. You mustn’t mind if we seem -greedy. As for me, I’m ravenous, but still capable of self-restraint.’ - -‘Fellows grumble at a tough steak at home,’ said Southwater; ‘talk -about having no appetite till 8 P.M. I wonder what they would say to -camp fare in Australian deserts? Lucky we didn’t fall across any -blacks, or roast picaninny would have suggested itself.’ - -The meal concluded, at which the strangers did not, in spite of their -confession, exhibit extraordinary eagerness, their entertainer lit his -pipe and commenced the conference. ‘I was doubtful lest our interests -might be antagonistic,’ said he, ‘but we meet now on a different -footing.’ - -‘We should have started back to Coolgardie in half an hour,’ said -Mr. Newstead. ‘Denzil and I were played out, and had resolved on -turning back in preference to leaving our bones to bleach by the -wayside. Your appearance decided us to reconsider. I take it you have -a “show” farther on?’ - -‘That is the precise state of the case. Here is the prospector who -discovered our bonanza, and will explain.’ - -‘Best reef I ever seen,’ interposed the grizzled veteran—‘and I’m a -“forty-niner.” So that says somethin’. If no one’s dropped across my -cache (as the trappers say) there’s enough to make all our fortunes -twice over. We can be t’other side of that there hill inside of twelve -hours.’ - -‘Shortly. You understand enough of mining law, I presume, to see that -though we can take up a Reward Claim, we can’t work it with two men. I -see by your hands—excuse me—that the manual part of mining is not -unknown to you. We _must_ take in some one. I prefer, and so does -Jack, to work with gentlemen, so I’m prepared to offer you such shares -as may be further agreed between us when the allocation takes place.’ - -‘It sounds too good to be true,’ said Newstead. ‘You are not going to -lure us into a cavern and slay us for our property, are you? But one -can’t help regarding oneself as the modernest Aladdin. In any case, I -say, done with you, magician or no! and so does Denzil, if I know him. -Allow me to help pack, and follow, as Dick Burton used to write to his -wife—the pay portion of the injunction must await developments.’ - - * * * * * - -The journey was resumed, the saddle was removed from the leader’s -back, and placed in the waggonette, as were also the effects of the -new associates. Apparently willing workers, they proved themselves -cheery and entertaining companions. - -Unaffected in manner and simple of speech, it was yet apparent, though -they conversed on perfectly equal terms with old Jack as with the -Commissioner, that they had moved in the _haute volée_ of English -society. - -They made no statement to that effect, but it was indirectly plain to -the Commissioner, himself an aristocrat by birth and social -surroundings, that such was the case. It was many a year since he had -been ‘home,’ yet, nevertheless, the merry chatter of these youngsters, -which, though careless, was redolent of the best English ‘form,’ was -refreshing in the life of a man who, though long absent from the old -country, was yet in full sympathy with her ideas and traditions. So -they fared on for the long remaining hours of the day, until they -reached the spinifex flat, immediately adjacent to the base of the -hill which had been so long within sight, but without reaching the -gradually ascending ‘rise’ which led to a plateau slightly above the -level of the plain. Here they halted—to feed the horses and await the -rising of the moon—after which the journey would recommence. - -‘We can’t afford to take no risks,’ said the old man; ‘we might have -another party comin’ along from “the Cross” way. And if they got there -first—some men’s that smart, you’d a’most swear as they could smell -the gold—there’d be a barney over it; and law, likely as not, which -you never know how it might turn out. So I’m thinkin’ it’s best to go -on, and collar right away—that’ll put an end to all bother in one -act.’ - -As the other members of the party were, more or less, excited and -ardent with the thought that the tedious journey was nearly at an end, -with fame and fortune almost within their grasp (for when is fortune -achieved without fame following dutifully behind the triumphal -car?)—the Commissioner, with the far-off cottage ready to be illumined -with the glad tidings, and the children’s shouts almost in his ears; -the young men, fired with the idea of a return to England with a -record rivalling that of the hero who ‘broke the bank at Monte -Carlo,’—no objection was raised. And when the moon, nearly at her -full, rose slowly over the horizon, commencing to flood the wide bare -solitudes, the plain, the hill crags, the mighty sweep of waterless -silent landscape, and deserted save for themselves, it seemed a weird -mockery to expect anything of the nature of wealth won from a region -so far removed from the benevolence of Nature or of man. - -Leaving one of the ‘jackeroos’ (as the old man called them, -apologising, however, and explaining the term) to take charge of the -waggonette, the others followed the prospector for a few hundred yards -until, as they came to a spot where a few stones had been carelessly -thrown together, he stopped, and pointed to a stake. ‘There it is!’ he -gasped; ‘no one’s been next or anigh it. I’ll go round, sir, with you -and see the other ones. If Mr. Southwater’ll go back to the cart, and -feed the horses, and start a fire to boil the billy, we’ll make sure -that nothing’s been touched since I left here months ago. It’s not far -from daylight, and after a bit of breakfast we can open up the reef, -and you’ll see what sort of a show it is.’ - - * * * * * - -‘Well, this is something what we went into the wilderness to see—not -to be profane—but isn’t it exactly what one would have thought in the -old, old days? This _is_ a wilderness, and no mistake. I used to -wonder what one was like when I was at school. Now I know.’ - -‘Wild and bare, and open to the air,’ continued Mr. Newstead. ‘It -takes a lot of imagination to think of villages, towns, cities, and so -on—“in this neglected spot,” as Gray’s _Elegy_ hath it. But _gold_ -rules the court, the camp, the grove, rather more strongly than -t’other imperial power. Everything else follows in its train, so they -tell me—Denzil and I are too young to lay down the law on these great -subjects. We’ll live and learn, I surmise, as our American friend -said.’ - - * * * * * - -The stakes had been duly cut, sharpened, and driven in, as far as the -rocky nature of the hill permitted. There was no path or track to the -wondrous spot itself. The faint footsteps of a weak, overwrought, -famished man left no imprint upon rock or sand. - -An aboriginal tracker on the man-hunt for foe or felon might have -read, from a displaced pebble, a bent or broken twig, a deeper indent -from a stumbling boot, that a white man had passed that way, but no -senses less keen than those of the desert roamer could have followed -the tokens of travel. - -‘I’d been in an’ out them upper gulches,’ said Jack, reminiscent of -Californian digger talk, ‘and what with bein’ tol’ble used up when I -come, and dead beat afterwards, was just about stumblin’ downhill -again when I spots this here openin’. It’s the last chance, thinks I, -but I’d better prospect the lot afore I give in. And this is what I -come on afore I’d been ten minutes at work. Reg’lar jeweller’s shop, -and no mistake.’ While he was talking, his hands were not idle: he had -brought a pick and shovel from the waggonette, and after shovelling -back the rock and earth from the tiny shaft, commenced to break down -the ‘cap’ of the reef. This was almost incredibly rich. The rock -appeared to be (as the Commissioner said) half gold—indeed, in some of -the specimens there was more gold than quartz. - -Strings of the precious metal hung down, which, indeed, seemed to -loosely unite fragments of the dull, cloud-coloured quartz—so dear to -the miner’s soul—while here and there were ‘nuggets’—actual lumps of -the gold. ‘This one’s not short of fifty ounces,’ said he, lifting one -of four or five pounds’ weight. ‘And there’s bigger ones to come, I’ll -go bail.’ - -‘I’ve always doubted,’ said Newstead, ‘whether my relations believed -my statements about rich finds in Australia. Certainly my banking -account was not such as to inspire credence. But I shall pour contempt -on their incredulity after this display.’ - -‘I should think so,’ said Mr. Banneret. ‘And now we must have a -council of war. What do you say about the next move, Jack?’ - -‘I vote we dolly all the gold as we can get out of the picked stone. -Then, in course, the mine’ll have to be registered, and a company -floated on the strength of these here specimens. It won’t take long to -do that once they get to Melbourne. The Commissioner and Mr. Newstead -can go back to Coolgardie with the team and waggonette, leaving us -enough to go on with. There’s a “soak” not far off, and we can fill -the ten-gallon keg afore they leave. A team can be sent up with all -the things we want. Mr. Southwater and I’ll work on the “stope,” if -he’s agreeable—feeling along the reef as we go, like. And now I’m -beginning to think about summat to eat.’ - -The adjournment was carried _nem. con._ When they reached the camp -Mr. Southwater had got everything in fine order. He was pleased with -the idea of having to stop behind, as old Jack had told him that he -was a born bushman, and would make a first-class prospector some day. -Mr. Banneret said little, but, looking at the bold expression and -steady eye of the young Englishman, was fully of opinion that he was -destined to be a leader of men. - -Next week the Commissioner and Newstead started back on the homeward -track, taking with them five thousand ounces of gold and specimens. -There was a good deal of business to be done, as he reflected, when -they reached civilisation. A Report in terms provided for by the -Goldfields Act and Regulations had to be made to the Commissioner of -the district, as well as a Lease to be applied for; a deposit in cash -paid to the Mining Registrar; a Prospecting Area had been pegged out, -and must be registered, and the whole auriferous area would be floated -as a company, with a hundred thousand shares of 20s. each. Machinery -for a quartz mill with fifty stamps and all the newest improvements, -Diehl process, etc., had to be purchased and forwarded by team at -once, and provisions, tools, extra tents, bedding, books, cooking -utensils—in fact, everything necessary for a large staff; with -engineer, manager, metallurgist, wages men, shift-bosses, and -others—the numbers in such case amounting to hardly less than fifty -men to begin with. The unpretending vehicle carried a considerable -amount of treasure, tempting enough to outlaws sure to be included in -every goldfields rush. But both men were well armed, and not likely to -surrender without a desperate struggle; the chances of an ambush were -small—the open, waterless nature of the country being against such a -mode of attack. Many thousand ounces of gold were indeed carried on -horseback, or in the unpretending buggy of the period, without much -knowledge of the same being noised abroad. Their journey to -Coolgardie, and afterwards to Perth, was, in this instance, wholly -devoid of incident, and Mr. Banneret had the satisfaction of banking -his precious cargo without any but the officials of the institution -being aware of the nature of the transaction. - -The only incident of note which bordered upon risk occurred during an -enforced stoppage at a stage a few miles distant from Perth. Here a -large detachment of navvies had just been set down, and apparently -they had managed to possess themselves of more beer than was good for -them. They were consequently in a state of humorous, if not aggressive -excitement. This displayed itself in curious inquiry as to the -contents of the portmanteau over which such jealous guard was kept. -Both men were dressed in ordinary miner’s costume, and therefore -lacked the prestige which in Australia ensures respect for all men -presumably of the rank of ‘gentleman.’ However, a miner who had been -at Barrawong just before the ‘breaking out’ of the West Australian -goldfields, happened to arrive in a waggonette. He and his mate were -‘going east,’ in order to float a company for the working of a mine, -which they had discovered, and declared to be of great promise. The -man from Barrawong was affected almost to tears by the sight of the -Commissioner, that dread and august potentate, in working man’s garb. -He looked as if he wished to fall down and worship him. But, -introducing his mate, he said, with a choking voice: - -‘Bill, this here’s our Commissioner, same as I told yer of, when I was -on Barrawong; he’s struck it rich, he tells me, and as we’re on the -road to Perth, he’ll be obliged to us for a lift in our waggonette if -you’re agreeable.’ - -‘I’ve heard of Commissioner Banneret,’ said the mate, making what he -imagined to be a bow suitable to the occasion, ‘and he should have my -seat if I had to walk every bloomin’ step of the road to the coast.’ - -‘There isn’t a man as was on the field when I left,’ responded the -mate, ‘that wouldn’t do the same; but there’s no call for any of us to -walk—the horses are in good fettle, considerin’ the price of feed, and -they’ll take the four on us—not leavin’ the portmanter behind—into -Perth, flyin’.’ - -This settled the matter. The portmanteau, so curiously regarded, was -promptly lifted into the waggonette, and, as well as the Commissioner, -was driven briskly along the road to the city, Mr. Newstead being left -with the baggage of the expedition to follow at his leisure, and -rejoin his chief at the township. That gentleman lost no time after -being dropped at the Bank of Barataria. The mineral collection was -produced. - -‘What name shall I enter?’ said the young banker at the counter. ‘Gold -and specimens, how many ounces?’ - -‘Seven thousand four hundred and twenty-three, seventeen pennyweights, -and ten grains.’ - -‘Oh!’ said the bank clerk, with an instant change of manner. ‘You’re -Mr. Banneret! Very glad to see you, sir! The Bank had advice of your -expected arrival. I’ll take the weights, and give you a receipt -directly. Won’t keep you waiting.’ - -‘Well, good-bye, Captain!’ said the miner from Barrawong. ‘You’re all -right now. Anything more we can do for you—drive you anywheres? Say -the word.’ - -‘No; thanks very much! As it’s early yet, I’ll take a stroll round the -town until Mr. Newstead comes up. It’s a little different from New -South Wales, eh?’ - -‘It is that, sir. I suppose you couldn’t lay us on to the spot where -that show come from?’ - -‘Hum! it won’t be long before we’re tracked up, I daresay. I don’t see -why you shouldn’t have a chance as well as another. What is the -leading hotel here, Mr. Carter?’—this to the bank clerk. - -‘Oh, “The Palace.” It’s that two-storeyed place at the corner of the -street. Clean, and the cookery fair. The Mining Registrar’s office is -next door.’ - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -‘Thanks very much. Perhaps you’ll dine with me to-night. One of my -partners is coming along, who will be pleased to make your -acquaintance. We’ll drive over, Con. Now then,’ he continued, after -they had trotted a short distance along the dusty street, ‘The “Last -Chance,” as you have seen, is one of the richest claims in Australia. -All the vacant ground within miles of it will be rushed in a week. -Would you and your mate like to register four men’s ground on No. 1, -north of the Reward Claim—on half shares? There’s plenty for all.’ - -‘All right, sir. We’ve got our Miners’ Rights all square and -regular—and glad of the offer. I know a couple more chaps here—old -mates that’ll go in with us, so as to make up the claim. You know -Murphy, and Crowley, don’t you, sir? They’ll come, quick and lively. -Good men to work, too.’ The next step was taken without delay. It was -legally necessary to register the Prospecting Area—to take out Miners’ -Rights—to apply for a lease. They were entitled under Regulation -No. 15 of the Goldfields Act of 189– to twelve acres, in the shape of -a rectangular parallelogram. These matters rendered it necessary to -remain for the day at Swantown, so Mr. Banneret surrendered himself to -the inevitable without much uneasiness. He took rooms for himself and -partner at the hotel called ‘Palace’—large and fairly commodious, -though by no means so much so as in the stage to which the city was -destined to develop. He expected Newstead to arrive about lunch-time, -and philosophically set off on a tour of inspection. - -That this was destined to be the centre of the largest, richest -goldfield in Australia, his experience enabled him to decide. From all -directions prospecting parties were converging—immediately importing -themselves at the Bank. There was but one, at present. The shops and -stores were much the same as those on every promising goldfield, -perhaps more comprehensive and high-priced. The surroundings were, -however, distinctly suggestive of a dry country in a dry season. - -For rain _does_ come to these ‘habitations in sicco,’ though chiefly -with reluctance and economy. The animals for team and burden were -half-starved, sometimes emaciated to a degree. The strings of camels, -with their turbaned Afghan drivers, were strangely foreign to his -unaccustomed eyes. They stood patient, and uncomplaining, before the -larger stores, or arrived laden with wool from the more distant -stations, which, owing to the dry season, were unable to forward their -fleeces, or obtain supplies without the aid of the ‘ship of the -desert.’ There he stood, huge, ungainly, unpopular with the -teamsters, terrifying to their horses—and all others. - -Sullenly regarded by the white labourers as alien to their country and -their trade, it yet could not be denied that here, at least, was the -right burden-bearer in the right place—in spite of his queer temper, -his general unpleasantness, and his incongruous appearance in this -twentieth-century Australia, utterly, manifestly indispensable, as he -had been in the long-past ages when ‘the famine was sore in the land.’ - -Mr. Banneret having a taste for exploring, and being also a practised -pedestrian, took a longish walk around the outskirts of the town, -before returning to the hotel and taking his seat at the dinner-table. -This was a long, substantial piece of furniture, amply supplied with -materials for a meal of the same character. All sorts and conditions -of men were there represented: aristocratic tourists, on the look-out -for mining investments—directors, or managers of syndicates, -companies, exploring parties, mercantile partnerships, what not. All -were animated by the common attraction, most successful of all baits -with which to ensnare the soul of man, from the dawn of history. -Recruits for the great army of industry, from all lands, of all -colours, castes, and conditions—the coach-driver, the teamster, the -newly arrived emigrant, the army deserter, the runaway sailor, the -stock-rider, the navvy, the shepherd,—all men were free and equal at -the Palace Hotel, so long as they could pay for bed and board. Nor was -there observable any objectionable roughness of tone or manner, in a -company formed of such heterogeneous elements. - -It is surprising to the ‘observer of human nature’ how the higher tone -seems instinctively adopted by the mass, when leavened with -gentlefolk, though they may have been wholly unused to its rules and -limitations in earlier life. - -To Arnold Banneret this was nothing new. Accustomed in his official -journeyings to mix occasionally, though not, of course, habitually, -with all classes of Australian workers, he knew—no man better—that, -given a courteous and unpretending manner, no gentleman, in the true -sense of the word, need fear annoyance or disrespect in the remote -‘back block’ region, or the recent goldfield ‘rush.’ It had leaked out -that he had ‘come in’ from a find of more than ordinary value, the -locality of which was deeply interesting to everybody. But the -unwritten code of mining etiquette prevented direct questioning. They -knew, these keen-eyed prospectors and workers on so many a field, that -the necessary information would soon disclose itself, so to speak, and -that the last who followed the tracks of the earlier searchers would -have as good a chance of success as the first. - -Having satisfied his appetite, a fairly keen one, he betook himself to -his bedroom, and wrote at length to his wife, detailing all progress -since his last letter, and finishing up with this exceptional -statement: ‘This journey has, of course, not been without a certain -share of inconvenience, and what some people might call hardship. But -you know that such wayfaring is in the nature of holiday-making for -me. It was, of course, a hazardous adventure, inasmuch as all our -small reserve of capital was embarked. A miscalculation would have -been wreck, and almost total loss: would have taken years of painful -saving and rigid self-denial to have made up the deficit. But now -success, phenomenal, assured, has more than justified the risk, the -apparent imprudence, everything. Our fortune is made! as the phrase -goes; think of that! When the company is floated, the shares allotted, -the machinery on the road to Perth, a hundred thousand pounds will be -the lowest valuation at which our half share in the “Last Chance” can -be calculated. A hundred thousand pounds! Think of that! Of what it -means for you, for me, for the children. For everybody concerned. And -a good many people will be concerned beneficially in the venture as -soon as the money is paid to my account in the Bank of New Holland. - -‘I don’t intend that there shall be any risk or uncertainty in the -future—apart from those apparently accidental occurrences from which, -under God’s providence, no man is free. But I will invest fifty -thousand pounds in debentures, well secured; so that, come what will, -a comfortable home, a sufficing income, will always be assured to you -and the children. Of course I shall resign my appointment as soon as I -return, giving the Government all proper notice. Our future home will -be in Sydney or Melbourne, on whichever we may decide. The children -are just at the age when higher educational facilities are required. -They have not done badly so far. But they are growing up fast, and -upon what they assimilate, intellectually, for the next few years will -their social success largely depend. - -‘It is needless to dilate upon the endless pleasures and the general -advantages of the possession of ample means, now, for the first time -in our lives, enjoyed, or about to be provided for us, _before_ the -fruition is accomplished. I have always been averse to a too sanguine -appropriation of the probable treasure. Alnaschar’s basket is still to -be met with. And I must cross both desert sand, and ocean wave, before -I can pour into your ear the tale of my strange adventures and their -marvellous ending. For the present, I conclude, full of thankfulness, -but, I trust, not unduly elated. “People I have met” will furnish many -an hour’s talk, not the least of whom are my two mates and -partners—one of whom is now delving away at the claim with old Jack -Waters, as if to the manner born; and the other, whom I expect will -rejoin me before sunset, is unromantically driving the light waggon -containing all our goods and chattels. These “labouring men” are of a -type unlikely to be found in any land less contradictory to all -preconceived ideas than Australia. They are, in fact and truth, -genuine English aristocrats—one being Lord Newstead, the other the -Honourable Denzil, son of the Earl of Southwater. They are quite -young, hardly past their majority, in fact; but full of pluck, -hungering for adventure, and resolving to see it out before they turn -their backs on this Eldorado of the West. Particularly the Honourable -Denzil, who is a born explorer and pathfinder. He will make his mark, -if I mistake not, before he is many years older. - -‘It is a great pleasure to me, as you may believe, to work with men of -this sort. No doubt we are mutually helpful—their high spirits, and -sanguine anticipations, tend to raise mine, which my experience (not -to mention that of old Jack) moderates. We have been, since we -forgathered, as Scotch people say, a cheerful and congenial party, -destined, I think, to become firm friends and attached comrades in the -future.’ - -The afternoon was well advanced when Newstead made his appearance, -having come quietly along, sparing his horses, as he had already -learned to do since his arrival in Australia. Mr. Banneret had -finished his letter and his walk; was therefore not disinclined to -have a companion with whom to discuss the situation. He was pleased to -find that a share of the only available bedroom had been engaged for -him, and deposited his personal property therein with unconcealed -satisfaction. - -‘One can’t help being childishly pleased with the certainty of a real -bed, and a dinner to match, again,’ he said. ‘Denzil and I have -roughed it as thoroughly as any two “new chums” (which is Australian -for English here), and it’s done us no end of good. But there’s a time -for all things, and after six months’ hard graft, with a trifle of -hunger and thirst thrown in, it’s awfully jolly to come to a land of -chops and steaks, sheets and blankets, with a prospect of yet higher -life in the near future. But on that we must not dwell yet a while. I -suppose you made it all right with the Bank?’ - -‘Yes; the nuggets are safe for the present, and I can draw against -them to any reasonable amount. That’s consoling. Our next move will be -to fix up about the lease, and so on. I’ve just bought the W.A. Act -and Regulations, which I needn’t tell you it is vitally necessary to -be well up in, on a goldfield. Any big show is sure to be well -scrutinised by the “jumper” fraternity, and any joint in the armour -pierced, if possible. Litigation, too, always means delay, if not loss -and anxiety.’ - -‘How long do we stay here?’ - -‘Only as long as it will take us to complete arrangements. Then you -return to the claim, “Waters’ Reward.” We must call it after old Jack, -who has certainly the best title to it, after doing such a “perish,” -as he would say, in its discovery. You’ll see it all in the paper -to-morrow morning, for, of course, I’ve been attacked by the ferocious -reporter of the “Dry, dry desolate Land” (with apologies to -Mr. Kipling).’ - -‘And you told him all about it?’ - -‘Of course—he has a quasi-legal right to the information, now that the -Mining Registrar is in possession of the facts. Payable gold, as you -are aware, must be declared within so many days. And as any miner, for -a small fee, is entitled to search the Registration Book, there is no -object to be gained by secrecy.’ - -‘What a rush there’ll be, directly it gets wind! No doubt about that. -When does the _Miner’s Friend_ come out?’ - -‘At breakfast time to-morrow. We had better stable the horses -to-night, and keep a good lock on the door, for there’ll be many a nag -missing by the morning light.’ - -His conjecture was correct. The news had leaked out accidentally -through the office. Told to a few comrades at first, the group had -widened. Then like the trickling rill from the faulty reservoir, the -rivulet gained width and force, until the volume of sound and -objurgation swelled, echoing amid the encampment of huts, tents, and -shelter contrivances. The tramp of a thousand men, the galloping of -horses, the strange cries of Afghan camel-drivers, formed no -inadequate presentment of, in all but the discipline, an army brigade -on the march. - - * * * * * - -A few hours of the night were devoted to a carefully-thought-out list, -and programme of future proceedings, as well as the formation of a -list of requisites for Newstead to take back to the claim. A couple of -wages men were also engaged, it being thought expedient to strengthen -the man-power of the expedition, in view of the crowd of probable -fellow-travellers which would be heading for Pilot Mount on the -morrow—indeed on that very night. Mr. Banneret was fortunate in -picking up a couple of ex-residents on his old field. - -They had not been successful, so far, and so were only too ready to -embark under the auspices of the Commissioner, in whom, like all his -former subjects (so to speak), they had unbounded faith. ‘These men,’ -he said, ‘have been known to me for years, and two better men than Pat -Halloran and Mickey Doyle never handled pick and shovel. They are -perfectly straight, plucky, and experienced. In anything like danger I -would trust my life to them. We were lucky to have fallen in with -them. They have travelled, too, in their day, and know New Zealand, -from the Thames to Hohitika—as well as Ballarat and Bendigo.’ - -‘So far, so good,’ said Mr. Newstead. ‘We shall want a lot of -stores—machinery too. All sorts of eatables and wearables. No end of -sundries, which will “foot up” to a total of some importance. Where -shall we get them in your absence? Everything seems to be at war -prices.’ - -‘I’ve fallen on my feet in that matter also. That you can get -everything on a goldfield, has always been a contention of mine. It’s -a sort of Universal Provider shop, once it’s been established -sufficiently long to attract the regulation army of Adullamites. A -goldfield is created for them, and they for a goldfield. We’ve got two -first-class wages men, and I’ve found the ideal storekeeper and -general agent.’ - -‘What’s he like?—has been a gentleman, Lord help him! I can’t say I -care for that brand.’ - -‘Wait till you see him, that’s all. He’s an old schoolfellow of mine, -and his wife’s a lady, if ever there was one, as I think you’ll admit. -I guarantee him.’ - -‘Well, if you do that, it’s all right, of course.’ - -‘I vouch for him absolutely. We can depend on not paying a shilling -more than the current market price, and on getting everything good of -its kind.’ - - * * * * * - -The return journey and voyage were so little eventful that they -require no mention in detail. The local papers were full of highly -coloured references to the phenomenal find at Waters’ Reward, for -which a lease had been granted to Messrs. Banneret and Waters. - -‘The actual prospector was Mr. John Waters, a pioneer miner, -experience in California, Australia, New Zealand, and South America. -His name was sufficient among the mining community to account for any -fortunate discovery in the world of metals. It was not the first, by a -dozen or more. That he had not profited permanently by his well-known -rich finds in former days and other climes, must be attributed to the -spirit of restless change and hunger for adventure, so characteristic -of the miner’s life. He had “struck it rich,” in mining parlance, -again and again. But the “riches had been of the winged description,” -had flown far and wide—were, for practical purposes, non-existent. -There may have been a certain degree of imprudence, but what -golden-hole miner hasn’t done the same? The fortunate rover lends and -spends, ever lavish of hospitality and friendly aid, as if the deposit -was inexhaustible. “Plenty more where that came from,” is the miner’s -motto. - -‘Doubtless there is, but delays occur, protracted not infrequently -within our experience, until the prodigal, like his prototype, is -reduced to dire distress and unbefitting occupation. In our respected -comrade’s case the fickle goddess has again smiled on his enterprise. -Let us trust that he will learn from the past to be independent of her -moods for the future. The senior shareholder, well known and respected -as a Goldfields Warden in another State, has gone east to arrange for -the necessary machinery, and the thousand-and-one requisites for a -quartz-crushing plant of fifty stamps, with everything, up to the -latest date, in the way of metallurgical reduction. No time will be -lost in getting it on the ground, and the results will be, it may be -confidently stated by this journal, such as will startle the mining -world, and give fresh impetus to all industrial occupation in our -midst.’ - - * * * * * - -At home once more. What a blessed sound! comprehensive, endearing, -filled with the domestic joys which wife and children supply—a joy -such as no other earthly pleasure can simulate. The Commissioner was -‘once more on his native heath,’ so to speak; and as he walked into -his well-remembered office, earlier than usual, in order to take a -leisurely survey of the great mass of papers, private and official, -which awaited his return, and noted the gathering crowd which had -already formed around the Court House door, a certain feeling of -regret arose in his mind at the idea that his ministerial and judicial -functions were about to cease and determine within so short a time. -True, at times his position had been one of great, even painful -responsibility. - -It could hardly have been otherwise, when the hundreds, even -thousands, of disputes, inevitable on a rich and extensive alluvial -goldfield, had, as a Court of First Instance, to be decided by the -Commissioner hearing evidence ‘on the ground’—the centre of an excited -crowd; or in the district Court House, with counsel for and against, -and all legal accessories, but chiefly with the Commissioner as sole -adjudicator and all but final referee. To be sure, there was an appeal -to the District Court, attending quarterly; beyond that, if doubt -existed, and the claim was sufficiently rich to fee counsel and -support the great expense of a Supreme Court trial. A thousand-pounds -brief had been handed to the leader of the Bar, in his experience, -before now in an important claim. But, so far, his decisions had been -chiefly unchallenged. In fewer instances still, had they been -reversed. Long years of goldfields wars and rumours of wars had given -him such thorough knowledge of the intricacies of that abstruse and -(apparently) complicated subject, mineral law, that he was seldom -technically doubtful, while his staunch adherence to equity, with an -unflinching love of abstract justice, were universally recognised. So, -on the whole, as ‘a judge, and a ruler in Israel,’ his reign had been -satisfactory. - -And now he was about to relinquish the trappings of office—the -prestige—the social weight and authority—which he had held and, in a -sense, appreciated for the last decade. True, the accompanying -distinctions were purely honorary. The salary was barely equal to the -family needs, for education, apparel, travelling, and other expenses. -But it had sufficed in time past. He was admittedly the leading -personage in his provincial circle; the universal referee in art, -letters, sport, and magisterial sway. And the declension to the status -of a private individual is after such prominence not unfelt. - -On the other hand, what glories, even triumphs, lay in the future, if -this marvellous Reward Claim ‘kept up,’ or ‘went down’ equally rich! -Travel—books—pictures—education—society—all on the higher scale,—money -being no object in the coming Arabian Nights existence. Aladdin’s lamp -would speedily be brought into requisition. Sydney or Melbourne would -be their headquarters for the next few years. Of course they would ‘go -home’ as the children grew up. Harrow or Eton—Oxford or Cambridge for -the boys. Continental tours—lessons in languages—Henley, in the green -English spring. The Derby, the Grand National—Kennington Oval (had -they not a cousin a renowned Australian cricketer, who had made the -record score in a world-renowned match!). It was too fairy-like—too -ecstatic! They would never live to go through the programme. Fate -would interfere after her old malign, mysterious fashion, to withhold -such superhuman happiness. - -But more matter-of-fact mundane considerations had to be considered, -and primarily dealt with. Three months’ further leave had to be -applied for ‘upon urgent private affairs,’ at the conclusion of which -period the applicant proposed to retire from the New South Wales Civil -Service. This was tolerably certain to be granted. The appointment was -a fairly good one, as such billets go. There are always aspiring -suitors for promotion, or officials of equal rank and qualifications, -who, from family or other reasons, desire removal. - -Of course the truth leaked out after a few days. The departure of the -Commissioner and the old prospector had not been unnoticed. No joint -enterprise could have been possible in his own district; such a -partnership would have been illegal. Even if veiled, it must -inevitably have led to complications between private and official -relations. Against all such enterprises, however alluring, he had set -his face resolutely. So the public came to the conclusion even before -the first copies of the _Western Watchman_ came to hand, that the -‘show’ must be in another colony; and so would result only in the loss -of their Commissioner and Police Magistrate—in addition to the usual -exodus of that section of the population which invariably follows the -newest ‘rush,’ whether to Carpentaria or Klondyke. Then waifs and -wasters could be well spared, while the steady workers would be useful -in sending back reliable information to their mates and friends. Con -Heffernan had started, Patroclus the Greek, Karl Richter, and the two -Morgans; they would write quick enough after they got there, and if -the find was half as good as was talked about, every man in Barrawong -who wasn’t married, or had cash enough to take him there, would be on -the road within forty-eight hours. - -Of course they would be sorry to lose the Commissioner; they wouldn’t -get another in a hurry who was as smart, straight, and decided. He was -fair, between man and man, and didn’t care a hang what creed, country, -or caste a man belonged to when he was trying a case. All he wanted -was to do justice, and he didn’t mind making the law himself -sometimes, so as he could give the claim to the right man. Didn’t he -fight the great No. 4 Black Creek Block case for Pat Farrell and party -against the Dawson crowd, and them having a lot of money behind -them—after it was adjourned, and remanded and sent to the Full Court -in Sydney—fresh magistrates being got to sit on the bench; and, after -all, old Pat Farrell got it, with heavy costs against the jumpers? And -Mrs. Banneret—wasn’t she the kind woman to the diggers’ wives and -kids?—though she had a young family of her own, and little enough time -or money to spare from them. Well, good luck go with them, and the -poor man’s blessing, wherever they went, far or near! They’d be -remembered in Barrawong for many a year to come, anyhow—as long as -there was a shaft or a windlass left on the field. - -What thoughts and emotions struggled for precedence in Arnold -Banneret’s breast when he reached the country town near his home, and -saw the familiar faces of the provincial inhabitants, mildly -interested in the arrival of the daily coach, bringing as usual -novelties, human and otherwise—last from the sea-port, and by that -medium from the world at large. Casting his eyes around, after a few -hurried but warm greetings, they fell on the well-worn buggy and the -favourite pair of horses. His eldest son, a boy of fourteen, held the -reins, which he transferred to his father, after replying in the -affirmative to the important inquiry, ‘All well at home?’ - -As he gave the accustomed touch, the horses, needing no other hint, -started along the metalled high road at a ten-mile-an-hour trot, which -they showed no disposition to relax until they came to the turn-off -track leading to the home paddock. - -‘Well, father,’ said the youngster, ‘you’ve had a fine time of it, I -suppose? I’d have given all the world to have gone with you. I suppose -you couldn’t take me when you go back?’ - -‘No, my man! You’ve got your education to attend to, and to see mother -and the children settled in Sydney first. I can’t afford to stay long. -So you’ll have to be mother’s right-hand man while I’m away.’ - -‘I suppose I’m to go to school when we get to Sydney?’—in a slightly -aggrieved tone. - -‘Of course you are—and to the University afterwards, unless you are -not able to pass the Matric.—which I should be sorry to think for a -moment you couldn’t manage.’ - -‘Oh dear! I suppose it will be years and years of Latin and Greek, and -history and geometry, before I can make a start in life for myself. If -I’m to be a squatter—and I’m not going to be anything else—what is -the use of losing all this time?’ - -‘My dear boy, you are to have the education of a gentleman. Whether -you decide for a bush life or a profession, a mining investor’s or a -soldier’s, it will be equally useful—I may say, indispensable—to you. -But there is ever so much time before us in which to settle such a -very important question. How well the country is looking! I haven’t -seen so much grass and water since I left home.’ - -‘It ought to look well—we nearly had a flood in the river last week. -The flats were covered, feet deep, but it soon went off again. It -won’t do any harm, they say; but we thought it would come into the -house one evening, and mother sat up half the night. It began to fall -next day.’ - -‘That was fortunate. Everything looks flourishing now. Oh, here are -the children, all come out to meet Dad, who is a man from a far -country. Pull up, Reggie! and I’ll get out. Steady, Hector!’ - -Hector, the impatient, didn’t see the use of stopping so near home: -indeed, gave two or three tugs and rushes before Mr. Banneret got -clear of the buggy. Then there was great kissing and hugging, to be -sure, from the half-dozen children, who hung round Daddy’s neck and -kissed impartially, taking any part of him that came handy. There were -four girls and three boys of differing ages and sizes, from Reggie, -aged fourteen, and Eric, ten, to Jack and Jill, aged five, and a -rose-faced pet of three, who demanded to be taken into the buggy -forthwith. So did the entire troop. But a compromise was effected by -the girls getting in, and the boys electing to walk home. The load -made no appreciable difference—eleven, including five adults and six -children, had been carted eight miles on their first introduction to -the district, in the same trap, the redoubtable Hector being quite as -hard to hold then as now. - - * * * * * - -Such a paradise as home (blessed place and blessed word) appeared to -the far-travelled father and husband! We pass over the mutual -greetings of wife and husband—matters too sacred for descriptive -analysis—‘with whose joy the stranger intermeddleth not.’ That they -‘kissed again with tears,’ on one side at any rate, may be conceded. -All had gone well during the house-father’s absence. Hector had been -lame for a week—which had led to anxiety. No cause could be assigned; -but the shoeing smith was suspected of a tap with his hammer, as a -hint to stand still. He declined to confess, but relieved his mind by -abusing Hector as the most impatient, troublesome old wretch whose leg -he had ever lifted. Anyhow, he was quite well again, and ‘flasher than -ever’—this was the second son’s contribution to the case. - -Next morning, in the pre-breakfast stroll, the springing crops—the -wide alluvial flats—the lucerne fields—the dairy herd—the stud of -well-bred horses—all appealed to the wanderer’s tastes and early -associations; the delightful country attributes of a long-held -fertile estate—inherited by the present proprietor. The Commissioner -was indeed but a tenant, dwelling in the ‘barton,’ so to speak, in old -English term—the manor was the Squire’s by inheritance and occupation -since he had come of age. A new house had been built soon after the -auspicious occasion of his marriage; while, on the Commissioner’s -arrival in the district, the roomy, old-fashioned cottage, with large -rambling garden and aged orchard, had been gladly rented by him. For a -man in his position, no more suitable place could have been found. The -families became fast friends, and, what is more to the purpose, -remained so for the whole decade during which the Commissioner’s -official duties attached him to the district. The green fields and -pastures were as much his as their owner’s, in the sense that a -woodland scene belongs to him who can appreciate the lovely, verdant -landscape. In earliest spring—in the bracing, but never severe winter -of the South land—amid evergreen forests and running streams, even in -the torrid summer, when the fresh, dry air has no enervating -tendency—in the still dreamy autumn, ere yet the first hint of frost -has shown itself in the yellowing oaks and elms—children they of the -far north home-land—how good was the outlook! The Commissioner loved -these demarcations of the changing year. In the river, which divided -the great meadows from the estate of a neighbouring potentate, his -boys learned to swim, and, both in the early summer morn and lingering -eve, were eager to plunge into its cool depths, or unwilling to -return in time for the evening meal, to race and splash over the -pebbly shallows. There were well-grassed paddocks for their ponies as -well as for Hector and Paris, and their father’s hackney. They -established also, it may be easily surmised, trial races and contests -with the sons of the house, and by degrees developed the equine -association, which helped them notably in the aftertime of polo, -hunting, and four-in-hand driving—when such pastimes and practice -became suitable to their age and position. - -It was a happy time then, with occasional exceptions, for the years of -early youth that the children spent at Carjagong; for the parents -also, though work was constant, and the just soul of Proconsul -Paterfamilias was often vexed by malign editors and Radical -demagogues, who stirred up strife in his kingdom, but he was supported -by the more thoughtful of the mining population, as well as by the -gentry of the district, with whom the family were always on good -terms. A yearly or biennial visit to the cities of the coast gave all -hands a taste of social life, and, with a breath of the sea breezes, a -sight of the ocean wave and the world-famed harbour. So the family -grew up: the girls into vigorous, independent maidens, riding and -driving, reading and dancing alternately—with equal enthusiasm, as is -the wont of the country-reared damsel, whether in Britain or -Australia, Galway or Goulburn. There is, it must be allowed, in both -hemispheres a note of freshness, vigour, and vitality observable in -the country cousins, to which the town denizens, _blasées_ with -unnumbered dissipations, rarely attain. Added to the ordinary -accomplishments, in which they were fairly proficient, they had from -time to time personal experience of the household duties, which the -dearth of female domestics—then as now a grave matter of concern on -the part of matrons—rendered necessary. Thus it must be allowed that -for the position of chatelaine, to which, in due course of time, they -might reasonably aspire, they were fairly equipped. - -And the sons of the house, destined in days to come to work in distant -States, or ‘outside’ regions, calling for leaders in the various -industries of a great, almost boundless continent, would be found not -unequal in brain or muscle to the duties imposed on them. Sons and -grandsons of pioneers, they inherited the thirst for adventure which -had brought the founder of the family, sea-borne in his own galley, -like a Viking of old, so far across the restless main, to the new -world under the Southern Cross. And now the abiding-place of the -Bannerets was again to be changed. Leaving on former occasions their -established residences in or near the principal cities of the coast, -where flower-gardens bloomed, and orchards bore their annual store of -tropical or British fruits, they had voyaged, or journeyed, to new, -unpeopled regions. The same experience had been repeated—the building, -the planting, the rearing of stock, the turning of waste land into -fields and gardens, vineyards and olive-yards—sometimes for the -benefit of the exiled family, more often for the use and reward of -others when the route was given once again. - -There had been sadness and heartburnings on all these occasions of -uprooting ties and friendships which more than once had struck deep -into a kindly soil; but the inherited pioneer instinct had triumphed -over all regrets. Sometimes the exodus had been from a country life to -that of cities; then the regret was softened by the anticipation of -metropolitan privileges—the meeting with friends and relatives, the -enchantments of novelty and romance. Still, again, the departure from -these new delights to a distant, untried region, a strange -environment, an unknown society, was proportionately distasteful. - -But the Bannerets were an adaptable race: they soon familiarised -themselves with new surroundings. Hot or cold, plain or forest, ‘out -back’ or near town, it seemed alike to them. They discovered kindred -spirits in the strangers amongst whom, for the first time, they were -thrown. They were sociable to the point of tolerating those whom they -could not admire; being civil and friendly to all sorts and conditions -of men, ready to do a kindness whenever such opportunity came in their -way, while preserving, as far as in them lay, that standard of conduct -and manners which had been habitual from childhood. Small wonder, -then, that they never left one of the country towns, to which the -exigencies of official or pastoral life guided their steps, without -public regrets being expressed. A presentation in every case -accompanied the address, which, in the shape of coin of the realm, was -not unwelcome. Their residence in this, a fertile as well as -gold-bearing district, had exceeded the usual term, and the -manifestations of public sympathy were therefore more general and -pronounced. - -To be sure, on the following morning after the Commissioner’s arrival, -when it was announced that he had decided to ask for three months’ -leave of absence, and to retire at the end of that time from the -Government service, there was a certain excitement, almost a -commotion. - -Many of the inhabitants, who had accepted the rule of the Commissioner -without any particular enthusiasm, were always willing to admit that -he was a man ready to work in season or out of season, whenever there -was public duty to be performed—considerate and impartial—treating the -Christian or the Chinaman according to the Act and Regulations in such -cases made and provided, and to no other code, moral or otherwise; an -official almost ceaselessly employed during the waking hours—often -before sunrise, or after dark, by the journeys which his duties of -inspection rendered indispensable; rarely known to be tired, ill, or -discourteous; ready alike to hear as patiently the case of the -humblest miner as that of the most powerful syndicate;—such was his -record for the ten long years that he had lived among them in almost -daily intercourse. A judge and a ruler, moreover, whose decisions, in -the words of an influential local journal, ‘had been rarely appealed -against, and still more rarely reversed.’ - -As in many other possessions and privileges, the benefits of which are -not sufficiently valued until in danger of being lost, great was the -outcry, many the professions of regret, when the news of resignation -was confirmed. Where were they to get another man versed in their -mining laws? - -Then the family, that was another important consideration. From the -lady of the house downward, they were favourites in the district. -Friendly and sympathetic with all classes, there was no case of sorrow -or distress where they were not helpful in aid, as far as their means -allowed. Fond of amusement in a rational way, they joined in all the -social and public entertainments with a cordiality which notably -tended towards their success—pecuniary or otherwise. At bazaars for -charitable purposes, hospital balls, race meetings, and other -enterprises, they were well to the fore—entering into the spirit of -the entertainments and giving unstinted personal service. And now, the -Commissioner and this exceptional family were about to leave them and -be replaced, possibly, by a formal, ceremonious personage, who -disliked the mining duties of his appointment, and was concerned -chiefly with the magisterial routine of Court, and Petty Sessions -duty, which he would (erroneously) consider more dignified and -aristocratic than riding hither and thither in all kinds of weather, -early and late, inspecting shafts, and, indeed, descending -occasionally into the bowels of the earth, where a feeling of -insecurity was painfully present. On the other hand, this gloomy -probability might not be realised. There were popular Commissioners -and able Police Magistrates yet to be found in the land. Many of them -had wives and daughters capable of irradiating the social atmosphere -and helping in all good works. They must keep a good heart, and hope -for the best; and if they could not keep their proconsul, so to speak, -for the term of his natural life—which would be unjust on the face of -it, inasmuch as he had dropped on a veritable ‘golden hole,’—they must -wish him luck, and give him a good ‘send off.’ And to that end, the -best plan now was to hold a public meeting, appoint a strong -committee, and show what the miners of the great alluvial field of -Barrawong could do to show their appreciation of ‘a man and a -gentleman,’ a friend of every miner, rich or poor, and a magistrate -whom every man on the field respected, even when he decided against -him. This, of course, took time, but everybody worked with a will, and -the committee, composed of leading miners, storekeepers, bankers, and -magistrates of the district, made great progress. Dinners were given -in his honour, speeches were made, even a ball was ‘tendered to him -and his amiable family’—such were the words of the invitation in which -reference was made to all the good qualities which could be packed -into any given official, and freely attributed to him. The ball was a -great success; the room was handsomely decorated with the great fronds -of the tree fern, the mimosa, and other botanical favourites, -intermixed with flags of all nations, which, indeed, the festive -company represented. The Mayor in the opening quadrille danced with -Mrs. Banneret, the Commissioner with the Mayoress, and according to -their degree, as in more aristocratic circles, the other sets were -arranged. That ball was a pronounced success. It was referred to, at -intervals, for years afterwards, as the Commissioner’s farewell ball. -Not only were the _élite_ of the mining community present, but the -families of the leading residents of the district for many miles -round, who had travelled long distances in order to attend. -Mrs. Banneret was driven home at a comparatively early period in the -evening, but the Commissioner, who had been devoted to dancing in his -youth, and was not now beyond the age when that charming exercise can -be enjoyed, remained until the ‘wee short hour ayont the twal’,’ when -finding that the gate of the stable-yard was locked, and the groom -asleep, he felt himself almost in a quandary. However, being a man of -resource, as from his varied occupations he needed to be, he saddled -his well-known cob, and leading that well-trained hackney through the -back door of the hotel parlour, and across the floor, he made a safe -exit by the front, and reached home without let or hindrance. - - * * * * * - -After years of settled official work—not hard or distasteful, but -still compulsory and exacting—there is always an exhilarating feeling, -resulting from the knowledge that henceforth the trammels of regulated -occupation are loosed for ever. Like the freed bird darting into the -blithe sunshine, the wide world seems opened, as in our boyhood, to an -exhaustless series of wonders and privileges impossible in the earlier -stages of life for lack of time, opportunity, money—if you will. -Travelling, the very salt of life, has been sparely, if at all, -enjoyed. There are cities to visit—art treasures in which to -revel—every kind and degree of rational enjoyment open to him and -those dear ones whose welfare had always been his highest aim and -consideration. - -It is a matter generally of chastened, peaceful enjoyment to the -released official of any degree, when, as dear ‘Elia’ phrases it, he -can ‘go home for good’—with an income sufficient to provide suitably -for the declining years of life. But what must be his feelings when -such a man is suddenly translated into a position of affluence—to -wealth beyond his wildest dreams? Hardly that, perhaps, as every one -connected with a goldfield can dream, and generally does, of the lease -so slow ‘in beating the water,’ the reef so unwilling to ‘jump’ from -pennyweights to ounces, floating him out to measureless wealth, -celebrity, and world-wide fame. Now, however, for the Commissioner all -the anxieties, uncertainties, and regrets of daily life had suddenly -come to an end. The ‘Last Chance’ was a proved, triumphant -success—seven to ten ounces to the ton, the great reef doing better -and better as it went down—the richest claim in the richest and, for -the future, the largest goldfield in Australia—the end of doubt, debt, -and difficulty had come. “His fortune was made!” The well-worn phrase -in commonest use among all classes and conditions, trite and terse, -even vulgarly so, but how comprehensive! The open sesame to how many -doors, gates, and treasure-caves of delights innumerable, jealously -guarded in the past. What a heaven in anticipation seemed opening -before him! But even then a half-regretful feeling arose—a sigh -escaped for the old, fully occupied life of ‘pleasure and pain,’ -when ‘the hardest day was never then too hard.’ Certainly there -had been doubts, wearying anxieties, troubles, burdens of debt, -disappointments; but, as a set-off, the family had enjoyed, on the -whole, excellent health, high spirits, and reasonable comfort. - -He himself had never had, with one exception (an intrusive fever), a -day’s illness, or absence from work on that account. Would this -Arcadian state of matters be continuous in the future? He did not -know—who can tell what a day may bring forth? He would be separated -from his family for months at a time. This was inevitable. The -goldfield was distant, and at the most dangerous period of -occupation,—scourged with typhoid fever, pneumonia, influenza, -dysentery, what not? Afflicting fatally the young and brave, the old -and feeble, the hardy miner and the immature tourist, how would his -family fare? Of course he would not take his wife and children -there—the thought was impossible. Heat and dust, bad water, bad food, -flies in myriads, no domestic servants, or merely the outlaws of the -industrial army—the thought was too distasteful! So, even at this -stage, the prosperity was not unalloyed; what condition of human -existence is, when we come to think? Dangers thicken at every step in -the battle of life, but better they a hundredfold than the cankers, -the ‘moth and rust’ of inglorious peace. ‘However,’ thought Banneret, -as he roused himself from this introspective reverie, ‘here is a state -of so-called prosperity, for which I have been longing, consciously -or otherwise, all my life; and now that it _has_ come, why am I -indulging in useless regrets and imaginary, unreal drawbacks? Surely, -as I have fought against trouble and discouragement in the past, I -ought not to waver at the ideal fairyland in the future.’ - - * * * * * - -The final arrangements which heralded the departure of the Banneret -family from Carjagong, where they had led a tranquil and, on the -whole, happy existence, were carried out successfully. The address and -testimonial were presented in due form. In the address the departing -official was credited with all the virtues; and the testimonial, which -took the form of coin of the realm, was a liquid asset which had been -decidedly useful in former flittings of exceptional expensiveness. - -They reached Sydney, by coach and train, without mishap or difficulty. -The children were joyous, and unceasing in their wonder and admiration -of wayside novelties, including snow, to a fall of which they were, -for the first time in their lives, introduced. - -The day on which they re-entered Sydney will always be marked with a -white stone in the annals of the family. It was the opening month of -the southern spring, and no more brilliant specimen of that gladsome -season could have been presented to the eyes of the travellers. They -had left a region where, though the climate was comparatively mild, -the lingering winter months were austere. Hence the semi-tropical -warmth of the air, the blue, cloudless sky of the metropolis, were -grateful as novelties to the wayfarers from the interior. The younger -olive-branches had of course in their ten years’ sojourn rarely seen -the sea; the elder ones had but dim remembrance of it; and when the -first sight of the historic harbour burst upon their gaze from the -balcony of their hotel, a cry of wonder and amazement could not be -suppressed, in spite of the nurse’s remonstrance. - -‘Not quite so much noise, my dears!’ said the watchful mother. ‘You -must learn not to shout and cry out at everything you see, or else -people will think you are wild bush children, that have never been -taught anything. You will see so many new things every day.’ - -‘Yes, we know, mother,’ said the eldest girl. ‘But there is only _one_ -harbour! Doesn’t it look bright and beautiful to-day? It is almost -calm, like a great lake. How the little white-sailed boats go skimming -over it, like sea-birds! There is a beautiful ship being towed in by a -little tug steamer. And, oh, here comes the mail-boat; how quiet and -dignified she is! She wants no tug, does she? That’s the best of a -steamer: she can get along, fair weather or foul.’ - -‘Sometimes, when a great storm catches her, even she has to “slow -down,” as sailors say; but generally, of course, she is independent of -wind and weather. And now it is nearly lunch time, so we must all go -and get ready.’ - -‘I went out in a sailing-boat,’ said Reggie, with an air of -experience, ‘last summer when I was down. Didn’t she lean over, too? -But, oh, how she did cut through the water! It was grand. And another -day Mr. Northam took out me and the Merton boys in his steam-yacht to -Middle Harbour. I liked that almost better. We had such a jolly lunch, -and went on shore afterwards. It was ever so hot, so we bathed, and -ate rock oysters, and had no end of fun. The country’s all very well, -but give me the sea at Christmas time.’ - -‘You’ll be at the King’s School next week,’ said his mother, with -quiet emphasis, ‘so I advise you to make the most of your time for a -few days. I can’t have you idling about town, and losing precious -opportunities.’ - -Reggie’s face fell just the least bit at this announcement, but soon -recovered its uniformly cheerful expression. - -‘Can’t we stay till we go into the new house; that won’t be long, I -suppose?’ - -‘Not a day longer than I can help, my boy. School is your most -important affair for the next three or four years, and your father -expects you to distinguish yourselves—that is, you and Eric; Jack must -stay with Miss Charters for another year. Just fancy what a fine time -you’ll have! Ever so many playfellows—cricket and football, hare and -hounds, steeplechases, all kinds of games. You’ll be so happy after -the first week that you won’t want to come home.’ - -‘I shall never feel like _that_, mother!’ said the boy feelingly. -‘Don’t make any mistake.’ - - * * * * * - -The eventful step was fully carried out; a comfortable house in one -of the picturesque suburbs of Sydney was rented and furnished; the -father’s farewells were made—those adieus sometimes temporary, but -which the heart is prone to suggest may be eternal; and as the -mail-boat majestically moved on her course through the great sandstone -gates of the landlocked haven, the tears fell fast from the eyes of -more than one of the little party as her smoke faded from view behind -the lofty headland. - - * * * * * - -Again the week-long voyage—the sighting of the far western ports—the -hasty landing—the railway crowding—the short stay at Perth—the -uneventful, uninteresting overland journey through country which -nothing but the possession of goldfields could render interesting, -though occasionally touching upon patches more or less agricultural or -pastoral. The motley crowd of pilgrims to the Mecca of Mammon was -indeed a medley, as are all goldfields crusades. Runaway sailors, -deserting soldiers, shepherds, stockriders, navvies, nobodies, -gentlemen ‘formerly in the army,’ Cambridge and Oxford graduates, -ex-Queensland squatters—some with two horses, some with a packhorse -only, but by far the greater number depending entirely upon the -all-sufficing ‘bluey’ (or blue blanket) carried on the shoulders, and -containing the owner’s food, wardrobe, cooking utensils, and worldly -possessions generally. Southern Cross, a year-old town, was not -materially different in architecture, dust, flies, banks, and -blasphemy, from ‘rushes’ with which the Commissioner had been -familiar, only ‘more so,’ perhaps—every discomfort and departure from -civilised life being strongly accentuated. A much-begrudged hour or -two was spent, or rather wasted here, and through the clear, starlit -night the expedition pushed silently onward. Taking counsel of past -experience, the leader had left little to the chances of the journey. -He had provided a substantial waggonette, heavier than the first -vehicle in which he and old Waters had travelled to the Pilot Mount; a -forty-gallon cask for water—a good-sized condenser, in case they ran -short of the indispensable element—chaff and oats sufficient for their -four horses, with tinned meat and fish to ensure a variety of -‘cuisine’; rifles, repeaters, and double-barrels, with revolvers in -good order, and plenty of ammunition; also a fair-sized tent, with -folding-table and seats, as a lengthened stay at the claim, which was -now a certainty, would need these accessories for reasonable comfort, -now that there was no doubt of the reef being permanent, rich, wide, -and going down equally so—indeed better the deeper it went down. After -leaving Southern Cross the desert journey recommenced, but now there -was no difficulty in finding the road. Every kind of track was printed -in large type upon the broad sheet of the Waste. Carts and waggons, -horses and bullock teams, had been there. The camels, following one -behind the other, had left their soft, narrow paths through sand-hill -and spinifex plain, salt lake and clay pan. This they could note as -they went through mulga and low acacia scrub until Pilot Hill, as the -eminence had been named, was sighted. Some of the ‘soaks’ emptied by -the horses and camel trains had not refilled, but their reserve of -cask water stood well to them in temporary need. And after a journey -neither protracted nor arduous, they greeted old Jack and Southwater, -who had managed to put up a comfortable shanty, and pointed proudly to -a ‘township’ of tents, and hessian edifices, occupying a considerable -stretch of country. - -Great congratulations greeted them from the resident partners, and -much curiosity was expressed as to the nature of the supplies which -they had brought with them, as well as of those which were to follow -on, with the machinery, and all the component parts of the up-to-date -plant, which were even now on the road. As the prospectors and -shareholders in the Reward Claim, they were objects of respectful -admiration, and praised in the local newspapers for endurance, high -intelligence, courage, all sorts of heroic qualities—the whole -finished off with the golden crown of success, which never fails to -irradiate the wearer and his surroundings. - -Awaking from his humble but not uncomfortable couch in the tent, which -had been pitched without loss of time, Arnold Banneret gazed around -the wide expanse with grateful and, indeed, enviable feelings. Here -was, if not the goal of his ambition, a near approach to it. He had -neared the winning-post, and though the trophy had not as yet been -placed in his hands, there was no moral doubt that he would shortly be -in possession of the coveted prize—and what a prize it would be! Well -worth the toil, the risk, the anxiety which he had gone through, the -years of hard work—sometimes indeed pressing closely upon his powers -of mind and body. With but a moderate income, he had cheerfully faced -the task of providing for the wants of a large family. They had been -fed and clothed, educated and prepared for their station in life as -gentlefolk. At times there had been but the narrowest margin—at times -painful doubt, depressing anxiety. - -But the parents had never despaired. A gleam of hope—a ray of sunshine -even when skies were darkest—had never failed to illumine the path. -One of the partners in the social-personal-national enterprise (it is -unnecessary to inquire which) had never faltered or swerved from the -solemn contract; and now, after years of doubt and struggle, the goal -was won. Success was assured—it was almost a moral certainty,—a -life-long provision for him and his, an assured position, a name and -fame, even distinction, for all their future life. As he stood before -his tent door and watched the red-gold sun invade the unclouded -firmament, when the morning mists, unlike the heavier masses of more -favoured climes, made haste to disperse and disappear, he could have -fancied himself an Arab sheikh. There were no Bedouins within sight, a -fact on which he congratulated himself. But a long line of camels with -their turbaned drivers, coming ‘up from the under world,’ supplied -proof that the desert conditions were not wholly, absolutely -non-existent. - -How differently indeed the point of view adds to or subtracts from the -treatment of any given situation. To the famished explorer with beaten -horses or starving camels, how drear and terrible the outlook over the -‘sun-scorched desert, wild and bare’—the stunted shrubs, the stony -surface, the arid waste! Weak and low, faint with hunger, or frantic -with thirst, he can barely summon sufficient energy to make one last -effort for the hidden spring and—life. - -Here, before the Commissioner, lay the same landscape—but for the -scattered huts and tents, as carelessly distributed over the forlorn -levels as if they had been rained down from the sky in some abnormal -storm-burst. Yet the man in front of the tent saw so much besides the -dusky levels—the stunted, colourless copses, with their distorted, -dwarfish acacia trees—the restless team and saddle horses crowding -around the drays as if imploring provender, too sensible of the -sterility of the land to waste time in wandering on a vain search for -pasture. The risen sun, which so many a fainting straggler cursed, as -the red globe rose higher through the pitiless firmament, was to him -the symbol of honour and happiness to come. The far distance, in which -a pale mist shrouded the naked rocks and scarred cliffs of a barrier -range, was grandly mysterious in his eyes, as concealing treasure -untold. The bells which now commenced to mingle and blend as the teams -came in, or were driven towards the Pilot Mount, clanged and jangled -not without a certain rude melody. An occasional flight of waterfowl -on their way to the coast, or a far inland lake, passed in swaying -files high overhead—guided, who shall say by what course of reasoning -or memory, to river, mere, or lake? And like the historic mariner, his -heart went out to the birds, and ‘he blessed them unawares.’ His -heart, full of joy and thankfulness, was softened by the relief from -care which had been granted to him, and he wished well to all living -things. The day which began with the sun’s blessing on him and his, so -to speak, continued and ended with the same—in strict consonance with -the feelings of the principal shareholder in the ‘Last Chance,’ now -far heralded as a treasure claim. As the sun rose high and yet higher -at mid-day, and lingeringly dwelt up crag and hollow, sand waste and -scrub, until the utmost limit of his course, it was more or less -oppressive to the crowd of toilers, who had worked since dawn. But -what of that? The air was dry, fresh, and, to the unworn constitutions -of the greater number of the workers on ‘the field,’ invigorating. -There was no hint of enervating moisture in the heated air which the -north wind sent along, in steady waves, from the innermost deserts. -Clothing was of the lightest possible texture, and as little of it as -conventions would allow—though here, as in all Australian -congregations, when leisure and recreation cried truce to the -excitement of toil, the canons of British taste were observed. And in -favour of the climate, which had no tropical disabilities or defects, -the nights—inestimable blessing—were cool. - -The breakfast hour permitted a free and full discussion of ways and -means—men and machinery—past and present—with sketch notes of the -general rise and progress of the partnership during his absence. - -Nothing could have been more satisfactory. ‘The men had all worked -first-rate,’ old Jack said—‘the swell as hard as any of ’em—perhaps -harder.’ Mr. Southwater was a terror for hard graft, and would have a -claim of his own some day. He was a born bushman, could work dead -reckoning, and would make a smart sailor-man, if ever he got the -chance. He’d come to something, no fear! Con Heffernan was as good a -chap as ever handled a pick—a ‘rale white man.’ Everything had gone on -first-rate—no rows, and all as smooth as a greased hide rope. - -Mr. Newstead said he thought he would go home, now he could raise the -passage money on his shares; but he’d leave a good man in his place. -To which determination he promptly gave effect. All was now plain -sailing. Of course there was hard unremitting work. From daylight to -dark, no rest for head and hand; but then there was much to show for -it. The arrivals of men and merchandise were large and exciting. -Carpenters, machinists, ‘wages men’—as ordinary mine labourers were -called—arrived in hundreds. - -Claims were taken up for miles around the Pilot Mount, in every -direction: claims for alluvial; reef claims, wherever there was a lump -of quartz as big as a cricket ball; water claims, wherever the -drainage from a ‘soak’ would fill a bucket in a day; ‘dry-blowing -claims,’ wherever a speck of gold could be extracted by one of the -most primitive of all processes. All this various assemblage -contributed doubtless to the name and fame of the far-bruited ‘Last -Chance,’ of which the shares rose in value until the original holders -looked on themselves as prospective, if not indeed, actual -millionaires. But there was another side to the shield, which -commenced to make itself clearly apparent through the somewhat blurred -and distorted social atmosphere. - -Among the miscellaneous crowd of adventurers and tourists who had -dared the privations of desert travel, was a contingent of lady -nurses. These meritorious women, not less daring than the reckless -miners who had faced death in so many shapes, in so many lands, had -joined the army of hope at the earliest stage that transit could be -guaranteed. _They_ knew, none better, how soon the fever scourge of -crowded camps, civil or military, would ‘take up a claim,’ ever -widening and expansive, sheltered by the dark wing of Azrael. How many -a day, how many a night, in burning heat or freezing cold, had each -volunteer for the ‘forlorn hope’ of Christian charity watched by the -delirious, fever-stricken patient, whose fate it was to sink lower and -lower, until he gasped out his life, holding the hand of his truest -friend in need, or, faintly rallying, lived to greet the ‘opening -paradise’ of ‘the common air, the fields, the skies,’ and to know -himself once more a man among men! - -At first, in the inevitable turmoil, the rush and hurry of a big and -daily-growing field, but scant attention was bestowed upon the dread -disease, or the ‘cases’ which began to multiply. The report that Jack -Wilson was ‘down with the fever,’ or Pat Murphy had ‘got it bad, and -mightn’t recover,’ was little heeded, but when poor Pat died, and was -followed to the grave by an imposing array of miners, public interest -was aroused. A committee of miners and citizens was elected, a -hospital site was determined upon, and on the following day (Monday) a -building of hessian and poles was commenced, and notable progress made -before nightfall. Subscriptions poured in: the big mine gave twenty -guineas, other firms and claims in proportion, but all liberally, not -to say generously, and, within a week, a building not particularly -ornate, but weather-tight, and suitably provided with beds and -subdivisions, with the all-sufficing corrugated iron roof, was -‘inaugurated,’ as the local journal proudly described the opening -ceremony, by a large and influential gathering of citizens. It may be -mentioned that the mining arrangement of eight-hour ‘shifts’ was -resorted to, the urgency of the occasion justifying this departure -from routine and trade habitudes. - -The ex-Commissioner had always, at his several commands and -headquarters, taken an interest in the hospital question, having in -his official life been brought into contact with the dreadful -accidents and deadly epidemics from which no mining communities are -free. So he made it his business to call in due form upon the nurses, -who formed the vanguard of the Nightingale battalion, and assure them -of his sympathetic aid if such should be needed. He ordered -improvements to be made in the buildings, and guaranteed the expense -incurred. He also arranged a ‘little dinner’ in their honour at the -principal (and only) hotel, to which, besides his partner, -Mr. Southwater, he invited the Warden of the district, as well as -other persons in authority, and a few leading citizens with their -wives. The entertainment passed off extremely well, and was -appreciated by the mining contingent, as recognising the lady nurses’ -position and, as such, giving them social standing. - -It was just as well that Mr. Banneret made himself acquainted with the -hospital and the _personnel_ of its guardian angels—a term used by -himself in the aftertime—as, within a month after the official -opening, he was himself an inmate of the institution referred to. - -Yes! there was no immunity, no safeguarding by means of careful -sanitation at the claim, temperate living, box baths (though these -were in the nature of luxuries), an elevated situation—precautions -which, under other circumstances, and in other places, had baffled the -fever fiend. First a queer feeling, half-cold and shivering, half-hot -and feverish; then a racking headache, vainly endured, and struggled -against in hope of relief—worse on the next day; then the ordinary -symptoms: a sleepless night, a half-conscious feeling of -‘lightheadedness.’ On the morrow, word went through the camp that -Mr. Banneret, of the great Reward Claim at Pilot Mount, was in the -hospital, ‘down with typhoid.’ The building had been full for days, -but one bed had been vacated, at the instance of Head Physician Death, -and into the empty cot the ‘respected chief shareholder in the -well-known Reward Claim’ (see the _Miner’s Mentor_ of the day, -‘Personal Column’) and ex-Commissioner of Barrawong was deposited. On -the morning which followed, the patient was in a high fever, raving in -delirium, temperature 105 degrees. The doctor pronounced it a definite -case of typhoid. On the first day of the seizure—how sudden and cruel -it was!—he had written to his wife that he had dropped in for a -‘feverish attack,’ but not to be alarmed—would probably pass off in a -day or two—she knew he had felt that way before; but had thought it -wiser, considering the heat of the climate, to go to bed for a day or -two. The hospital was really most comfortable, and well managed; in -Mrs. Lilburne he had, she would be glad to hear, a most capable and -attentive nurse. She was on no account to be alarmed, or to _dream_ of -coming over—which would only be an expensive and disagreeable journey -for her. Mrs. Lilburne would write and tell her how he was getting on. -It was a great nuisance—indeed, most disappointing—that this sort of -thing should have happened, and that he had more than once been -tempted to wish himself back at poor old Barrawong; though, of course, -they had gone through the same epidemic there, when poor young -Danvers, the curate at the township, and Mr. Thornton, who was past -middle age, with ever so many other people, had died, and it seemed -to be in the nature of a lottery who should catch it and who should -escape, who should live and who should die. He was glad to hear that -Reggie was getting on so well at school, and that the other children -were thriving. He had got little Winnie’s letter, and would answer it -to-morrow, etc. When the morrow came, as before stated, he was not in -a condition to write or read letters, or indeed to perform any of the -literary duties which had previously occupied much of his time. The -doctor and the nurse were engaged in anxious consultation—the one -taking his temperature, which the nurse registered very carefully; -both faces wearing a very serious, indeed anxious expression. - -‘You think it will go hard with him, doctor?’ queried she. - -‘Can’t say at this stage,’ said the medico, with a professional air of -immobility; ‘must run its course. A great deal will depend on his -constitution and the nursing. I am glad it was _your_ turn, -Mrs. Lilburne.’ - -‘He shan’t fail for that, doctor, if I keep going,’ said the pale, -refined-looking woman. - -‘I know, I know,’ replied the man of life and death. ‘But don’t _you_ -get laid up, or I don’t know what we shall do. Good morning!’ And the -hard-worked physician walked out, and drove off along the dusty track -at a pace much above the regulation rate. - -‘That Mrs. Lilburne, as she called herself,’ thought he—‘I don’t know -whether it’s her right name, or, indeed, whether any of their names -are _really_ their own—a lot of mystery about nurses in back block -hospitals, I’ve always found—but this one is different from the rank -and file. I wonder what her history is—must have some sort of _past_, -as the new slang is: husband cleared out from her, or she from him; -married before, and forgot to mention it. Talk about lawyers having -secrets! we doctors could beat them hollow if we only chose to let -them out—which we don’t. We are the real father confessors, if the -world only knew. Anyhow, this poor chap is lucky to have Madonna -Lilburne to look after him. I’m afraid it’s a poor look-out for him; -hard lines, too, when he’s the richest man on the field. Fortune of -war, I suppose; can’t be helped.’ - -The patient had written a comforting letter, as he thought, to his -wife. It had, however, quite a different effect. Mrs. Banneret knew -her husband of old, and could gauge his every thought and action. - -A man averse to speaking of minor ailments, he was always worse than -he appeared to be, in consequence of this habit of reticence. He -despised the habit of complaint with which men that he knew were in -the habit of disturbing the household and their wives. Consequently he -fell into the other extreme: delaying the notice which would have -procured aid or arrested illness. He had repeated the imprudence, she -could plainly perceive. Fever probably had set in. He might be even -now in the dangerous stage. How dangerous, how short the interval -between it and the last journalistic reference: ‘We regret to have to -announce,’ etc., she knew well. Had she not seen from the West -Australian papers, which she scanned so eagerly, the portentous -death-roll, in which she prayed to God—how earnestly who can tell—that -her husband’s name might never be found? There was no time to be -lost; join him of course she would; was he to die, alone and -untended except by unknown, perhaps incapable women, who had been -lured to the goldfield by exaggerated reports of easily found -fortune—adventuresses, or worse? It was agony to think of his being -left in such hands. She read and re-read his letter—perhaps the last -he would ever write. Of course he had made the best of it; he always -did. But there was much to be done, much to be thought out. The mail -steamer sailed to-morrow. She would—she _must_ go to him. The time was -short—too short. The Adelaide express would be in time? No! she would -get on board—the railway might meet with an accident—a strike was -threatened by the employees if wages or privileges were reduced. -Heartless wretches! What did they care for sickness and death—the -grief of the widow, the orphans left fatherless? It must be admitted -that in this hour of misery, almost of despair, her righteous -indignation was fervid, glowing, and would have burnt up the Trades -Hall delegates like so many priests of Baal had she had the prophetic -power. - -With but a short interval granted to natural sorrow, action was -quickly taken. The children were too young to be left unguarded. But -in the city where she, where her mother, indeed, had been born, she -had many relatives—not a few staunch family friends. They came forward -in her hour of need. A cousin, capable and sympathetic, volunteered to -supervise the household in her absence. Needful preparation was -quickly made. Far into the night she sat and wrote, leaving minute -instructions—even farewells, in case she took infection. And at noon -on the following day, amid the crowd of passengers on board the -_Kashmir_, bound for Europe _via_ Western Australia, stood Marcia, the -wife of Arnold Banneret, lately the Commissioner of Barrawong town and -district, but now the largest shareholder in the well-known Reward -Claim and—a patient in the fever ward of Pilot Mount local hospital. - -Shipwreck rarely occurs among first-class liners like the _Kashmir_, -P. & O., but there _is_ such a thing as a broken shaft. As a rule it -is calculable within a few hours when such a marine miracle of speed, -comfort, and ordered energy arrives at her destination. Such was the -case when the _Kashmir_ arrived at Adelaide. - -She was met at the landing by a friend of the family, who handed her a -telegram:— - - On board P. & O. steamer _Kashmir_.—Mr. Banneret better. - Dr. Horton considers crisis past. No need for haste. - -But the sick man’s wife was of a different way of thinking. ‘I shall -be for ever grateful to you for your kindness,’ she said, ‘but I can -only rest when I am where my husband lies sick. Pray God it may not be -unto death, and that I am not too late.’ - -‘I can assure you,’ said the kindly matron, ‘that you may trust -Dr. Horton implicitly. He objects to messages that disguise the truth. -He would not have permitted this to be sent if not strictly reliable.’ - -‘Thank God! thank God! if it be so. And now when does the train -start?’ - -‘You won’t think of leaving to-night, surely? We counted upon your -staying with us till to-morrow.’ - -‘I am sorry to seem uncourteous, but I cannot lose an hour that may be -used in bringing me nearer to him. I ordered my luggage to be sent to -the railway station. The Captain assured me that it should be done.’ - -‘You are very determined,’ said Mrs. Hampton, smiling, ‘but I will not -press you further, if you will stay with us on your return?’ - -‘Most willingly, and will do anything you like to ask me. If my -husband is well, and returning with me, as I trust he will, you will -find me quite a different woman.’ - -‘Then we’ll have a cup of tea, and I’ll drive you to the station. -There is sure to be some one we know going on, and I can assure you of -a guide, and perhaps a companion.’ - -Thus reassured, the wifely anxiety became somewhat lessened, and she -consented to a hasty meal before being driven to the railway station. -Here she found that an engaged carriage had been thoughtfully secured -for her, and that her lighter luggage had been placed therein, while -the attentive guard placed the checks in her hand for the trunks. - -With hearty thanks, and a cordial handclasp, she said adieu to the -friend in need. Just before the train started, a well-dressed, -ladylike woman was introduced as Mrs. Wharton, and took her seat -beside her. ‘Nearly lost my passage,’ she said, ‘but you know how one -is rushed at the last moment. However, here I am, and as I live near -Kalgoorlie, I shall be glad to give you any information that may be -useful. This is your first visit, I hear.’ - -‘Yes, indeed! and but for my husband’s illness I should not have -thought of making it now.’ - -The strange lady’s face changed to an expression of sympathy and -regret, as she said, ‘Not too serious, I hope?’ - -‘He is in the hospital, ill with typhoid fever. I have had a telegram -from the doctor attending him. He thinks the crisis past, and that he -is mending.’ - -‘What was the doctor’s name?’ - -‘Horton. Mrs. Hampton said he was strictly reliable.’ - -‘So he is. He always thinks it better that people should be told the -truth—you may depend upon his report absolutely.’ - -‘Thank you so much! I feel encouraged to think that the worst is over. -You have been living at Kalgoorlie, I think you said?’ - -‘Oh yes! for several years; but I have only just returned from -England, where my young people are at school. They are all well, I am -thankful to say, and I am returning to live with my husband for -another two or three years, after which, as our mine, the “Golden -Helmet,” is paying well, I trust we may go to England for good.’ - -‘And do you like living here?’ - -‘Oh! I have to like it, or be separated from my husband, which I could -not endure. After all, the life up here is not unendurable. The winter -is pleasant enough. And in the hottest part of the summer we get away -to the coast for a month or two. It’s not so bad as one would think. -We visit about among ourselves. There are a few nice families, and the -young people have polo, racing, and an occasional ball. We see many -English people of good family from time to time—more perhaps than in -the older communities—and manage to exist very tolerably.’ - - * * * * * - -So the day and the long night in the train passed not uncomfortably. -At the stopping stages refreshments were procurable. - -The wearied women slept soundly at intervals, and as the morning -broke, and found them still speeding across the interminable waste, -the cool breeze, after they had dressed and breakfasted, refreshed -them considerably. Mrs. Banneret began to lose the haggard air as of -one expectant of evil—of nameless dread, and responded to her -companion’s efforts to induce a more cheerful frame of mind. - - * * * * * - -Pilot Hill was descried at last—the township reached; and then a -journey had to be taken by coach, for of course the mail service had -been contracted for by an American firm. Fast coaches, with well-fed -horses, had succeeded to the slow and toilsome waggonette-travelling. -Short stages were alone thought of, and with only a minimum of -discomfort Mrs. Banneret found herself at the Royal Palace Hotel, -where a note written with a very shaky hand awaited her:— - - My darling Wife—I tried my best to prevent your taking this - unnecessary journey—you will own—but, as usual, you would have - your own way. A week ago it looked as if you would arrive just in - time to see my grave—in the cemetery, which is filling all too - quickly. Now, thanks to Mrs. Lilburne and Dr. Horton, you will - discover what is left of me. I must leave off, and lie down to - gather strength to welcome you.—Always your fond husband, - Arnold Banneret. - -The woman knelt down in the queer little bedroom, where she and her -luggage—dust-covered and travel-stained—had been deposited, and poured -forth her thanks to that Great Being who had once again listened to -her prayer, and restored him for whose love and companionship she -chiefly lived. Only allowing the shortest interval for adjustment of -dress and removal of dust, Marcia Banneret hardly waited for a guide -to the hospital. That reached, she walked quietly into the -convalescent ward, and kneeling by the bed which held a wasted, -pallid, altered man, whom she hardly at first recognised as her -husband, she flung herself on her knees, and sobbed out her love for -him and gratitude to the Most High—almost in the same breath. - -How changed from the strong man whom she last saw at their old home!—a -man whom travel, toil, privation of any ordinary kind, in whatever -weather it might be—winter storm or summer heat—seemed but to refresh -and invigorate. And now, how shrunken, nerveless, emaciated!—every -trace of colour fled from his bronzed cheek, and supplanted by the -saffron hue which confinement of any kind conjoined with disease -brings even to the most robust. - -Was this indeed Arnold Banneret? When he saw himself in the glass he -hardly recognised his own features. - -‘I am afraid I must interrupt the interview, Mrs. Banneret,’ said a -low, carefully modulated voice, as, after premonitory tapping, the -slender, graceful form of Nurse Lilburne entered the room; ‘but, with -apologies to you, Dr. Horton cautioned me against the danger of -over-fatigue or excitement at meeting you. I feel certain you will -pardon me. We have to be so careful against the chance of a relapse.’ - -‘I will pardon everything, and only wish to thank you from the bottom -of my heart for the care you have taken, and the saving of my -husband’s life. I shall never forget it, believe me. We shall both -cherish you as a valued friend to the end of our days. And now, I will -say good-bye. I suppose I may come again in the evening?’ - -‘Oh, certainly!—I can depute some of my duties to you with safety, at -this stage.’ - - * * * * * - -From that day it may easily be understood that the patient’s -convalescence steadily advanced, that his progress in health was -comparatively rapid. His strength, indeed, took longer to build up -than he imagined would be the case. After leaving his bed for the -first time he could not walk without support, and even dressing had to -be effected by easy stages. However, if the progress of gaining -strength was slow, it was sure, and before the month was out he was, -to use the common phrase, ‘a new man.’ - -Then he was able to be driven round the field by his wife—to observe, -and, in a sense, to enjoy the unfamiliar points of this most -extraordinary region—surely one of the most amazing storehouses of the -Golden Lure ever unearthed by civilised man. Though the soil was -barren and rock-strewn, the rainfall scanty and uncertain, the heat of -midsummer terrific, the miners had already made pathetic, not wholly -unsuccessful efforts to establish gardens—a few vegetables, and the -commoner sort of flowers, carefully watered, repaid their pains. Even -the desert shrubs and wild flowers were heedfully transplanted, and in -many instances embellished the humble homes, temporary though they -might be, which sprang up in the wilderness. In some instances, where -the ground was apparently all rock, holes and excavations had been -blasted out and filled with alluvial, wherein the bulbs and roots put -forth their shoots. - -Nor was the goldfield, now so populous, and with a reputation which -had been bruited over the Anglo-Saxon world, deficient in what was -known as ‘society people.’ Not to mention the Honourable Mr. This and -Lord John That, who had taken up their abode there—there were dozens -of scions of well-known families from the eastern colonies, who had -not only come to take a hand in the game of Golden Hazard, here played -for such alarming stakes—but who had brought their wives. - -These ladies, who had heard of Mrs. Banneret, and sympathised with her -in her husband’s dangerous illness, ‘called upon her,’ as the -conventional phrase runs, which visits had, of course, to be returned. -So that she found herself soon provided with a large and congenial -visiting-list. - -‘Really, I quite begin to like this place,’ she said to her husband -one day, when they were driving home in the cool of the evening from a -centre a few miles distant from Pilot Mount, where they had heard of -the presence of an old friend; ‘and what a nice pony this is—quite a -pleasure to drive her. The roads are so good too. Very different -country from poor old Barrawong, with its box forests, and our good, -clean, dear bungalow, with the old, old garden, and the dear river. -Fancy a river here! The young people get to like it, I suppose—though -this cemetery has a list of young—ah! such young inmates, I can’t bear -to think of it. Sons and brothers, wives and husbands who will never -go back! It is too dreadful.’ - -‘You must endeavour _not_ to think of it, dear,’ he said softly. ‘You -will be able to take _me_ back, that is one comfort. And as the mine -is doing so well—better than well—phenomenally, I think—mind you—only -think—we may be able to go east, as they say here, by the mail steamer -after the next. And if the “Last Chance” keeps up its present, or -probable output—we shall not return, but leave the working of it, and -all business that hangs thereby, to our partners and the other -shareholders.’ - -‘Oh, what a joy that will be!’ she exclaimed, clasping her -hands—which, as she held the whip in one of them, caused the pony mare -to make a rush. For a hundred yards or so the pony refused to be -stopped, but there were neither trees nor stumps on the road, so the -hotel was safely reached. The mail letters had just come in, and from -these it was learned that the children were well and matters generally -all that could be wished. Things being in this blissful and -satisfactory state, Mr. Banneret and his wife quitted Pilot Mount, the -latter in a very different state of mind from that in which she had -reached it. As for her stay at the field—she thought she should look -back to it (after, of course, her husband’s recovery was assured) as -really a most interesting and pleasant experience. Everything was so -fresh and new, even to her who had been so many years a resident on -goldfields. The people were, many of them, lately from Britain, -America, or the Continent of Europe: all sorts of young men -unattached, who had never seen Australia before, many of them of good, -even aristocratic families, not occupied in any profession, eager and -anxious to have their share of the treasure which Dame Nature was -distributing with lavish hand; men from old colonial families, who -brought their wives with them, or sent for them after they had secured -an investment likely to be permanent. These were the most solid and -influential components of the hastily gathered and yet firmly welded -framework of society. - -They decided who among the women were to be ‘called on’—or to be left -out of the visiting circle. They acquired all necessary information on -that head, inspected credentials, advised young men for their good—and -generally constituted the higher public opinion which governed, with -more or less authority, the manners and morals of their little state. -They gave ‘teas’ at the Polo Club and race meetings, inviting -desirable persons and excluding such as had given social offence. No -hard and fast rule was openly promulgated, but in an unobtrusive way -the combined influence made itself felt, and those who were hardy -enough to withstand it found in the long run that they had taken up a -wrong position. - -Of course, among the heterogeneous community there were individuals -and groups whose antecedents were shrouded in mystery. - -All that was known of them or could be divined about their former -professions or occupations, adventures, characters, or relations was -that they had arrived by the mail boat of a certain date, and had been -working in this alluvial claim or that reef—for the last year. They -were certainly ‘human warriors,’ as Dickens’s taxidermist was wont to -express it. Mr. and Mrs. Winstanley, admittedly good-looking, -well-mannered, presentable—were suspected of not being legally -married. - -There was no proof, either one way or the other—if the rumour was not -well founded, injustice was done to an innocent woman. If otherwise, -those families who had permitted intercourse with wives and daughters -repented in sackcloth and ashes when the truth came out. For it must -not for one moment be assumed that the colonial social canons are one -whit less rigid on such subjects than in the mother-land. If anything, -Mrs. Grundy is a potentate whose power is greater and whose -punishments are more terrible than in the ancestral home. - -Mrs. Banneret had necessarily been drawn into closer association with -Nurse Lilburne than with any other assistant in the hospital. She it -was who had tended her husband through the most serious stages—the -most dangerous crisis in the course of his deadly seizure. With his -life actually trembling in the balance, she it was who had bathed the -burning brow, had measured so carefully and administered so punctually -the healing draught; had been in very truth the ministering angel of -the poet’s fancy. No other woman, save and excepting his own wife, -could have been so capable, so delicately deft, so conscientious—so -devoted, even to the danger of her own health. She had brought him -through the valley of the shadow, Dr. Horton said, and he did not -believe another woman in Australia—let alone in Pilot Mount—would have -done it. It may be imagined what gratitude was felt by Mrs. Banneret -when she saw her husband by her side, fully recovered and looking, -except for a certain pallor, which some people thought became him, -better than ever. Now that they were able to drive about -together—which the doctor had strongly recommended, as a daily -recreation, favourable to perfect recovery—various novelties and -unexpected discoveries in their new world of Arabian Nights -treasure-land displayed themselves before her. Restricted to the -routine of domesticity hitherto—an exacting though not unwelcome round -of duties—her imagination, always daring and impatient of control, -luxuriated in excursions around and amidst ‘the burghers of this -desert city.’ What mysteries lay hidden in the past lives of the -women, the men, who daily worked or strolled _en flâneur_ on the -highways and byways! - -That quietly dressed, not quite elderly, not quite young visitor from -the old country, who was he? He had a military air, and the stamp -which ‘formerly in the army’ invariably impresses on the individual so -privileged. The ‘horsey man,’ the abscondu, the aristocratic tourist, -on for a hasty inspection, with a view to chance a thousand or two on -the Big Bonanza, or the Golden Horn,—they were there. It _might_ turn -up trumps—like Great Wolder, which had paid a million and a half in -dividends and was going strong still. Others again, who played deeply, -and were chiefly undesirable. - -As the field increased in population and prestige, the stream of -holiday or home-going capitalists made Perth their headquarters. Once -there, the ‘Weld,’ an exclusive and fashionable club, naturally -attracted notice, and afforded a more or less luxurious home for those -who desired to enjoy their sojourn by the waters of the Swan River, -and to feel the ocean breezes on a sun-tanned cheek. As an honorary or -permanent member, the candidate required to be proposed and seconded -by leading members of the club, who were held responsible for his -conduct and character, so that it may be imagined that both were -subjected to close supervision. It was not, therefore, probable that -the black sheep of other lands, much less of colonial families, would -find pasture, even in that Terra Incognita, a West Australian -goldfield. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -There was still, however, one haunting mystery, one problem unsolved, -in the solution of which Mrs. Banneret felt more interest than in all -the other uncertainties and sensational historiettes put together. -Who and what was Mrs. Lilburne? Handsome, strikingly so, -indeed—refined—cultured—aristocratic _au bout des ongles_; what -strange movement of the hour hand of fate had brought her to the often -distasteful work, the dire climatic hardships of a hospital nurse on a -West Australian goldfield? Who could doubt her stainless purity who -gazed on the banded hair—the calm, brave countenance, equally free -from doubt or fear—the sweet, sad eyes which so rarely gave token of -the spirit-light which illumined them, at rarest moments, ‘like -melancholy stars,’ of which Mrs. Banneret said they always reminded -her. Had she lost, by death, by desertion, by treachery, her soul’s -idol, to whom she had been vowed in happy, radiant girlhood’s day? -What a ‘phantom of delight’ must she then have appeared to her social -world—at that entrancing age, when ‘standing with reluctant feet, -where the brook and river meet,’ she had so fully realised the poet’s -dream!—the dream of all poets that ever strove to paint the delicious -embodiment of soul and sense, the flower season of happy, innocent, -loveliest girlhood. - -However, it was distinctly patent to all the inquiring or admiring -minds of Pilot Mount that the oracle, in the case of Nurse Lilburne’s -antecedents, was at present dumb, nor could cries or lamentations -extract an answer. To Mrs. Banneret once, indeed, she relented so far -as to say, ‘Some day you will know, if to any one I may show gratitude -for true friendship and womanly sympathy. In the meantime think of me -only as Nurse Lilburne. For your husband I have only done what I would -have done for the humblest miner. And may God grant that some day I -may be counted worthy to receive payment in kind!’ - -So they parted on the last day of the Bannerets’ sojourn on the great -‘Last Chance’ goldfield, as it was now called,—famed throughout all -Australia as the wonderland of that Far South land which had given so -many wonders and surprises to the old world, and to the country which -had founded it; which a hundred years from its birth, in peril from -starvation, from conquest, from criminal surroundings and ignorant -misrepresentation, had established an export trade of many millions, -and borne sons who fought shoulder to shoulder with Britain’s best -troops in defence of the Empire. - -Mrs. Banneret was not the only person on the goldfields who was -interested in the story of Nurse Lilburne’s life. So attractive, so -exceptional a personage could not long remain in such a community, -where the men outnumbered the women in the ratio of at least a hundred -to one, without being admired, flattered, besieged, indeed, by -importunate suitors who were only too willing to condone her -past—whatever it might have been. But to all such approaches she was -adamant. She quietly put them by, not coldly or haughtily, but with a -nun-like aloofness, as if all matters unconnected with her duties were -not only impossible of acceptance, but even of consideration. Even the -most ordinary civilities, such as a seat in a buggy or pony cart to -the Polo Club matches, or the races connected with the club formed for -the encouragement of that fashionable game, were quietly declined, -even though proffered by the president, a married man, whose wife had -always been most friendly and sympathetic. Jim Allerton, whose tandem -was the admiration of all beholders, implored her to honour him by -accepting a seat to the ground—the day being brilliant, with a cool -breeze—the occasion certain to be historical in years to come; such an -opportunity would perhaps never occur again: the Governor of West -Australia, with his wife and daughter, were to be present. She smiled -graciously, and confessed that she could not have refused such an -offer—once upon a time—but now—he must excuse her. Jim retired -heartbroken, so he said. - -He was not the only admirer—the Adonis of the field, Eachin Durward, a -tall, handsome, grand-looking Highlander, was known to be devoted to -her,—was well-off too,—would have left for Europe _via_ Cairo, and the -East generally, if only she would deign to express a wish—a preference -for any particular route. But she was dumb as the Sphinx. - -As deaf also, to all entreaties of men, as she who sits by the -Pyramids—sad, silent, awful in lonely sorrow—in wisdom unspeakable, in -experience vast—in knowledge coeval with the æons, whose memorial—save -of her, and the eternal pyramidal monuments—hath perished. - - * * * * * - -Eastward ho! Home again,—blessed word, thrice blessed reality. The hot -desert blast—the dust—the heat—the swarming flies—the glaring sun at -noon—the scarce less tyrannous heat at even,—all things that bore so -hard on frail humanity—all left behind for a season! What a paradise -of hope and joy seemed opening before the ‘happy pair,’ in truest -re-adjusted sense of the word. And the calm, peaceful savour of all -the best joys of life was heightened by the recurring thought that -under all things there was the solid foundation of success—success -undoubted—ungrudged—won by enterprise and work, a wide-spread -treasure-house in which so many of the most honest toilers of earth -were permitted, nay, invited to share. - -With health assured—indeed benefited by recovery from the dread -fever-grip—so rarely relaxed—it seemed apparent that he, Arnold -Banneret, ‘never looked better,’ as his friends assured him, than on -his return from the Golden West—that fateful Eldorado which numbered -so many of the best and noblest of Australia’s—Britain’s—sons among -the ‘unreturning brave.’ - -The voyage completed—the harbour—the haven par excellence of all fair -havens, regained, the meeting on the wharf—of the entire family—wild -with joy, and shouting all kinds of differing information, in one -breath—all rosy with health and frantic with delight, may be left to -be imagined by those home-returning parents of similar experiences. -Nothing had gone wrong. The household had been discreetly, lovingly, -capably managed in the absence of the high-contracting parties of the -little state,—that state, when multiplied by thousands and ten -thousands, which makes so much in valour, virtue, and stability, in -the onward march of Empire. - -Again established in their most comfortable house, on one of the -heights which overlooked the harbour on the winding highway to the -South Head—a dream of beauty by day or starlit night, by sweet -moonrise or palest dawn—unequalled, unapproachable beneath the -Southern Cross—how pure, how peaceful, how unspeakable was their -happiness! What avenues of enjoyment opening out daily, stretching in -the future to illimitable distance, filled the perspective! - -The New Holland Club, of which Mr. Banneret had for many years been a -member, again opened its arms to receive the absent member, whom they -thought never again to behold. Reports had reached them that he was -dead—not expected to survive, what not? It is not a wholly unpleasant -sensation to personally contradict the report of one’s decease,—that -report, ‘upon the best authority,’ quoted from the morning papers, -that one has been cut off in the flower of one’s youth, or the zenith -of one’s fame, as the case may be. Even there the candid friend is not -wholly at a disadvantage. ‘No idea that I was such a fine fellow,’ -says Horatio, returning, let us say, from Philippi, where he was -reported slain. ‘Really,’ drawls the inevitable ‘friend,’ ‘but, you -know, dear boy, people exaggerate so fearfully on such occasions!’ - -It is good to be rich, for some, for many reasons. It is good even to -be thought rich, if one is not thereby tempted to spend extravagantly. -As mankind are constituted, whether the money is inherited, gained by -accident, by the hardly reputable means of gambling, so long as it is -known to be there, a certain kind of respect and deference goes along -with its possession. Perhaps in Arnold Banneret’s case, whose -exploration of an inhospitable desert where men’s lives were but as -counters in the game, and had been expended as recklessly, it disposed -the critics of the clubs and swagger hotels to regard him as having -achieved true distinction. Younger sons and others, who had gone out -with hazy ideas of digging a fortune out of the dreary wastes, of -which they had heard, and had returned to the city without one, -comprehended the preliminary hardships which he must have undergone. -They enlarged upon these, in all good faith, until the readers of -newspapers and the public generally were disposed to look upon him as -a general of Division and a scientific millionaire combined. - -‘Heard of him before,’ men would say in the smoking room. ‘Been at the -front all his life. Squatter in old days—took up outside country—rows -with blacks—bushrangers, that sort of man. Dropped his money when -stock went down. Took to the Civil Service later on. Wife and -children—so on. Makes up his mind to be Goldfields Warden—tired of -that—believed in another cast of the dice—goes to W.A.—and before he’s -been there a month, hits on the discovery of the age—the biggest of -the century—regular Mount Morgan, y’know.’ - -‘Mayn’t be quite as big a quarry as that,’ interposes another man—a -pastoralist, whose grizzled beard and bronzed countenance has ‘Waste -Lands of the Crown’ writ large thereon—‘but told by men, been there -and seen, half a dozen fortunes in it,’ and so on, and so on. Thus the -hero-worship progressed. - -Rich—beyond any of _his_ dreams of avarice—so far, he saw himself so -high on the ladder of prosperity that he began to consider how he -might benefit those friends and relations (perhaps) whom he had so -often pitied, lamenting at the same time his inability to aid them. It -was one of the anomalies of life, he had reflected, that people in -possession of superfluous means seldom showed much disposition to use -them in this way; while those who, like himself, would have taken -pleasure in dispensing timely aid seldom had the wherewithal to -gratify benevolent intentions. However, if the future yields of the -‘Last Chance’ kept up its present rate, there would be enough, and to -spare, for years to come. He could enact the Uncle from India—they are -always rich (or used to be)—for the benefit of deserving relations who -would be touchingly grateful to the end of their lives. How he could -assist all benevolent institutions—repay those who had been kind to -him in the early struggles of his life! He had a good memory for such -positions and people. Then, after a few years, which he could spend -comfortably, not to say luxuriously, in Sydney—he would take the -family to England. The boys would be of an age to benefit by -public-school training, preparatory to being entered at Oxford or -Cambridge. He would buy an estate—not too large, but sufficiently so, -to give them the pleasures of English country life, without the -drawbacks of having to attend to the responsibilities and details of a -large estate. He might even go into parliament—that was to be managed -more easily in the old country than in the new one, where the low -suffrage, combined with the intense jealousy which wealth and a -cultured intellect aroused in the lower-class voters, made it -difficult, if not impossible, for their possessor to enter parliament. -However, these hopes and enterprises were for the future to justify -and develop in action. For the present here was he, Arnold Banneret, -back again in Sydney—safe and sound, fully recovered from the fever -scourge of outside habitations—wife and children well—heartily -enjoying his recovered freedom from anxiety, the society of his -friends, and in a moderate way the prestige which had accrued to him -as a favourite of fortune, and a successful, energetic, worthy -recipient of her gifts. - -Of the good things now so lavishly bestowed upon them his wife had her -full share. Always ready to indulge her with such pleasures as he -could afford, and knowing well that in the matter of expenditure she -was far more prudent, as well as practical, than himself—he had -relinquished to her willingly in his official days the power to draw -on a separate bank account, into which his pay as it came in was -deposited. From this she was expected to provide for household -expenses—dress—schooling—all things needful for their station in life. -He contracted to discharge his private personal expenses,—having -subsidiary grants, such as coroners’ and other fees, travelling -allowances for the long rides and drives he was obliged to take in -connection with mining matters, the settlement of disputes about -claims, or reports on the sale of auriferous lands: in fact, upon the -thousand and one matters only to be settled satisfactorily by the -presence and judicial action of the resident magistrate. - -Now, of course, Mrs. Banneret’s bank account was increased—enlarged -upon a scale commensurate with the imposing amounts which regularly -arrived from the goldfield of Balgowrie in the district of Sturt, in -the colony of West Australia. Like most married women, the spending of -money gratified her, more especially when she had no doubt of the -solvency of the bank account, and the propriety of the manner in which -it was disbursed. That the children should be well and handsomely -dressed, as became their station in life, was to her a matter not only -of right and justice, but of keen enjoyment. That they were enabled to -join in such entertainments as were suited to their age, and station -in life, was also a part of her satisfaction. They had often, in -former days, been denied these innocent pleasures—to her secret -mortification. Now and henceforth this disability was abrogated for -all future time. - -How very delightful it all was! What a glorious thing was life! (Of -course there were drawbacks—but they must be expected.) Here Arnold -Banneret’s mind reverted to that little hospital at Pilot Mount, to -the delirious patient in one bed—suspected in lucid intervals to be -himself—to Nurse Lilburne’s grave, compassionate face—to the dead -miner but two beds away—to the empty couch, which had been occupied -last night! - -Thinking of such things, a wave of deep and earnest gratitude to the -Lord and Giver of Life for a while took possession of all his -faculties, to the exclusion of all merely pleasurable sensations. -While sitting in the broad, flower-wreathed verandah, as the evening -shadows deepened into those of night, and looking over the waveless -water-plain of the harbour, lit up from time to time by the lights of -passing steamers—the silence broken but by their warning bells—the -deep blue heavens, star fretted, and but faintly luminous in the -southern midnight—the hands of the husband and wife stole together; -for they were lovers still, though so long wedded. ‘Oh, Arnold!’ said -the wife, ‘is not this a fragment of Paradise, after what we have gone -through, and do you think it will—it _can_ last? I feel almost too -happy. God has indeed answered our prayers—in many an eventide it has -been light, but this is the crown—the glory of all our life!’ - -‘That we have fought our fight fairly—through good and evil hap—I -think we are entitled to say, though humbly; and thankfully do I -acknowledge God’s mercy and goodness in the troubled times of our -married life. But it really looks now as if peace was declared, and -the war was over. Let us trust so, and hope that in time to come, as -in the past, a hand may be stretched out to save in time of need. May -our children who have their lives before them, with all their trials -and dangers, be not less happy, less fortunate than we have been!’ - - * * * * * - -Years passed on. The family of Banneret had become accustomed to -living at the rate of four or five thousand a year—not by any means so -difficult a task as declining from that desirable income to as many -hundreds. They were accredited members of the ‘Upper Ten,’ as -translated into Australian Society terms. - -Their parents having belonged to well-known colonial families, the -young people found themselves invited to all the gaieties going. They -had many old friends and relatives—some in influential positions—who -stood loyally by them, so that in all the more desirable festivities, -from a Government House ball or garden party, to the annual regatta -in the harbour, the available members of the family were always in the -front rank. Races, hunt clubs, tennis matches—golf—water -parties—theatricals—church and hospital bazaars,—they enjoyed them -all: in moderation, be it spoken, always. There was no reckless -abandonment to pleasure, no love of excitement for that reason only. -But their temperaments held a strong infusion of _la joie de vivre_, -which, along with energy and intelligence above the average, rendered -it possible for them to combine much healthy recreation with a -reasonable outlook on the great issues of life. The mild but firm -parental rule was always available to restrain enthusiasm, to check -impulsive imprudence. Thus all things progressed satisfactorily, in an -apparently well-balanced mean between comfort and extravagance. - -All reasonable indulgence in the pleasures of youth for the young -people, with the calm satisfactions of middle age for the seniors, -seemed assured. Not only for the present, but for years in advance, -their position was unassailable by fate. Mrs. Banneret, to be sure, -could not help suggesting from time to time, in a mild, tentative way, -that they were _too_ happy, the sky was too bright, the outlook too -fair to last—something adverse _must_ happen—it was unnatural that -this fairyland, lotos-eating state of matters should remain unchanged! - -‘My dear,’ he would make answer, ‘surely you are not going to take the -part of the—a—what’s-his-name—at the feast. Must I hire a slave to -repeat at intervals, “Arnold Banneret, thou art mortal”? I have never -been unthankful for the blessings which in God’s great mercy have been -showered upon us. My whole being is permeated with thankfulness. In -our small way we have done good according to our lights, in the way of -charity and benevolence, to our fellow-creatures. But I decline to be -apprehensive, in advance of disaster—for which I may state that I -shall not be wholly unprepared. If it comes, we can stand up to it, as -we have done before—more than once—without repining or presumption. In -the meantime let us enjoy ourselves while we may.’ - -It was strange—passing strange—as the members of this family had -occasion to reflect full many a time and oft, in the aftertime—that -immediately after this conversation the great banking disaster -which smote cities, towns, villages, throughout Australia, -broke like a tidal wave over the land. Ancient mercantile -institutions—time-honoured banks—mortgage and agency companies—loan -and building companies felt the blow. Banks on deposit, offering high -rates of interest, while chiefly unsound, swept thousands of the -lesser investors into a whirlpool of ruin. Fine old crusted banks, -whose solvency had never been questioned, were whelmed in one common -cataclysm. - -A panic set in. After the first few banks and loan agencies fell, -other banks and institutions hitherto unquestioned thought it good -policy to go down before the blast in good company, and so profit by -the general overthrow to reconstruct. This latter process consisted in -writing off as great a volume of inconvenient liabilities as the -shareholding public would permit, without too great an outcry, and -starting on a new, unencumbered career—free from vexatious hindrance -or liability. They were much in the position of the deeply laden bark -that in stormy weather, amid mountainous seas, jettisons the cargo, -the weight of which may disturb buoyancy at a critical moment. It is -not asserted that all interest due on deposits or debentures was -sacrificed. It went into a reserve fund of deferred payments, which, -after a decent interval, were eventually paid up. But many of the -humbler depositors lost the savings of years, and this was the hardest -part of all—being no longer able to pay the calls which were necessary -for the financial existence of the institution in question. Perhaps -this unsparing treatment, though apparently harsh to individuals, was -the safer policy. And at this eventful period, when long-trusted -financial houses in Britain tottered to their fall, the Premier of the -oldest Australian colony, himself a native-born Australian, took the -strong, perhaps unprecedented step of declaring bank-notes to be a -legal tender. To the ordinary citizen, much more to the rural -depositor, a bank-note had always represented ready cash. - -The movement was well timed. It inspired confidence and calmed the -apprehension of general as well as individual wreck and ruin. In a -sister colony the Government of the day, with paternally indulgent -policy, directed all banks to close for three days—presumably to -permit time for declaration of a policy. All the banks availed -themselves of this, with the exception of _four_, who refused to -comply with the quasi-royal edict. Three of them were old and -long-established—coeval almost with the birth of the colony and the -infancy of the commercial system. The fourth was comparatively new and -unknown. Yet it rode out the gale as gallantly as its more dignified -compeers. The news was communicated to Mr. Banneret with startling -suddenness by one of his school-boy sons, who, returning from town at -lunch time, it being the holiday season, greeted him with the -question, ‘Father, have you heard the news?’ - -‘No; what is it?’ - -‘The Bank of New Holland has stopped payment.’ - -‘What? The Bank—_that_ Bank! Impossible! Are you sure?’ - -‘Well, Jack Burton’s brother is accountant. He told me; some of the -other fellows knew about it. And the door’s shut. I went to look. -Burton says lots of other ones will stop. They are refusing bank-notes -at the railway.’ - -Mr. Banneret groaned. ‘And is this the end of my life’s work?’ he -thought—‘a bolt from the blue, and so on. Well, it’s lucky I put that -thirty thousand into the British “Reduced Counsels,” as Mr. Weller, -senr., called them. Rum time to fall back on Dickens, isn’t it? Might -find a worse author, though. We shall have to adopt “Reduced Counsels” -literally, it appears. Tell your mother I want her.’ - -His countenance informed that good wife and trusty mother that -_something_ had happened out of the common track of surprises. - -‘What is it? Anything the matter with Reggie and Rosamond?’ They were -on their way to England by the P. & O. boat _Ispahan_. - -‘Well, nothing very serious; but there’s a difficulty about money.’ - -‘Is that all? How did it come about? No imprudence, I hope?’ - -‘Not on Reggie’s part. Read his cable—short and strong: “_Credit -stopped. Please arrange._”’ - -‘How did it happen? I feel so relieved. Money’s nothing, compared with -health, or accident. I thought Reggie might be ill, or hurt. But tell -me.’ - -‘The main facts are, that all the banks in Sydney, beginning with the -Eastern, have stopped payment, provisionally at present, pending -reconstruction, liquidation, or some other delayed arrangement, the -immediate effect of which is, that nobody can get any money just at -present.’ - -‘What—none at all? Whatever shall we do?’ - -‘I daresay I can manage a small advance. I put thirty thousand pounds -into British Consols, as a stand-by in case of accidents. So we can -pay the butcher and baker, at any rate.’ - -‘But the mine hasn’t stopped?’ - -‘No, thank God! It’s a pity I banked the last month’s dividend, -though. It’s going better than ever. So, when next month’s comes in, I -can put it into a trust account. Meanwhile I have wired a draft for -£500 to Reggie.’ - -‘Poor things! It must have given them a cruel shock.’ - -‘Yes, indeed; but some of their fellow-passengers must have had a -worse one. Hard lines to have to come back when they were half-way -home, like the Thompsons and Franklins. Poor Mrs. Franklin! She was -only telling me last week what a round of the Continent she and the -girls proposed.’ - - * * * * * - -This cyclonic disturbance abated in time; matters moved on again in -their accustomed order. But there were wrecks left behind—mercantile, -moral, and political—which no future prosperity could re-establish. -Long was it indeed before the fatal year of 18— was even partially -restored, much less forgotten. But, as Mrs. Banneret truly said, -‘Money counts as nothing in family history compared with health.’ And -this was only a temporary inconvenience, as the Bank of New Holland -paid up all liabilities eventually, with interest up to date. -Paterfamilias betook himself to one of the banks which had weathered -the storm, and found that with the promise of removing the account of -the ‘Last Chance’ Gold Mining Company to their long-established -corporation, he could have practically all the money he needed. Which -was certainly satisfactory. So the Banneret family went on their way -rejoicing, and denied themselves, as ‘before the war,’ nothing in -reason. The younger boys and girls went to high-class schools, as -before; learned all the extras and accomplishments; played football, -tennis, hockey, and cricket; rowed and yachted in the harbour; took -the whole round of exercises in mind and body for which no people in -the British Empire are more eager than the youthful Australian. - -It was now nearly five years since Arnold Banneret had seen the -mine—the centre and source of the family fortunes. He had been kept -fully posted up in its progress and development, in the size and -splendour of the city which had arisen around Pilot Mount, the grand -scheme of water supply which had been successfully completed, the -electric lighting of public and private buildings, streets, etc., but -he thought it advisable to have personal evidence as to all these -wonders and miracles. Besides, he was getting rather tired of the -almost too easy and prosperous routine of his daily life. Travel had -always been the very breath of his nostrils, the very salt and savour -of his life. He would try the tonic again. - - * * * * * - -How different were all things from the rude discomfort of his first -visit!—the earlier stages and stopping-places grown from camps to -villages, from villages to towns, from towns to cities having mayors -and aldermen; telegraph and post offices, court-houses and churches, -in almost, as the newly arrived traveller considered, unnecessary -profusion. However, the gold returns had kept up—that was the main, -the chief consideration. This month’s return from the field had been -the largest yet. Other centres of gold production had been discovered, -and were advancing along the road to riches and recognition. There had -been cases of excessive capitalisation, of course; but nothing that -had in any way trenched upon the reputation or resources of the parent -mine. - -Arnold Banneret arrived late, and preferred to dine and sleep at the -Palace Hotel—as, of course, the leading caravanserai at the city was -named. - -Here, though partly prepared for a series of surprises, he was -genuinely amazed at the luxurious details of the apartments and the -comparative excellence of the cuisine: fresh fish brought daily by -train from the coast, packed in ice; fruit forwarded in the same way; -the duly-kept saddle of mutton—the sirloin,—all good of their kind. -Though the tariff savoured rather of a recent war, the retiring -traveller was not disposed to find fault. The service generally was -good, the attendance most creditable. Having slept the sleep of the -just (and the tired-out), and arranged for an early breakfast, he left -for Pilot Mount in a hired buggy, behind a pair of fresh, well-groomed -horses. - -A hot climate has its days of tyranny and oppression, but there are -compensating advantages—even in summer. By leaving shortly after -sunrise, you secure a sample of climate which is little short of -perfection,—especially, as in this particular experience, where there -is no wind. The sun appeared to be slowly, almost imperceptibly, -disengaging his golden sphere from the mists and vapours of the lower -world, and as he rose regally from his couch, all nature appeared to -welcome the life-giving presence of the fire-worshipping god. Far as -eye could see, over the mighty sweep of plain that stretched to the -horizon, were the evidences of recent occupation, more or less -connected with the great industry which had lured the army of toilers, -that Mr. Banneret saw before him, into the gold-seekers’ ranks—some -destined to fortune, some to poverty, sickness, and death. In his -own case, how nearly had his career come to an untimely end! His -heart swelled with thankfulness as he remembered the hospital -experiences—the lonely boding days, the faithful watchers by his -couch, the unspeakable relief of convalescence. - -As he neared the monolith which had been the pillar of hope and -guidance in his journey through the wilderness, he was conscious of a -certain feeling of disappointment in noting the comparatively small -size of the encampment round the mine. He had expected a township of -larger proportions, and had not reckoned on the attraction of the -Great Aqueduct, recently completed, which will always stand as a -monument to the courage and foresight of the Minister who planned and -carried it through to successful fulfilment. May he live to crown his -life-work with the completion of that other great undertaking with -which his name will be always indissolubly connected! Worthily and -suitably should the name be venerated, as of one who, himself a son of -the soil, had, as an explorer, dared the perils of that waterless -desert region. - -Not being tied to time on this occasion, and having the satisfaction -of seeing all things going well with the mine, Mr. Banneret permitted -himself a season of leisure and recreation, so to speak, which suited -his personal tastes. He carefully inspected the machinery and general -working of the ‘Reward Claim,’ as among the mining community it was -generally known; the hundred head of stamps, the Diehl process of -extraction, which inexorably dragged the last grain of the precious -metal from the crushed rock. The wages men, the shift, and underground -‘boss,’ respectively and individually, were carefully noted and -interviewed by him. Practised in the art of eliciting information and -making acquaintance with the various and heterogeneous population of a -goldfield, he from time to time noted, quietly and unobtrusively, many -of the leaders and men of mark in the community. The results of this -inquiry, he deemed, might be of value to him in time to come. - -In his peregrinations he met with many individuals whom he had known -or heard of under different circumstances. The majority of these were -unaffectedly pleased to see him—even, rather to his surprise, some of -those to whom he had been compelled officially to award pains and -penalties. This seemed to make no difference in the cordiality of -their recognition. Offenders under such circumstances rarely bear -malice, as long as they believe in the justice and impartiality of the -decision. The criminal classes, as a body, do not harbour revengeful -feelings against administrators of justice. Their common expression -is: ‘It’s the law, and it’s his business to carry it out. It’s all in -the day’s work.’ True, they do not approve of the official ‘going out -of his way’ to arrest a convict. To any ordinary advantage, taken in -pursuit or capture, they do not object. ‘It’s his business to run us -in, and ours to get away,’ they admit. ‘But he ought to play the -game.’ If he fails in this particular, they conspire to be revenged. -And as colonial history tells us, they are prone to inflict terrible -vengeance in such cases. - -It was strangely interesting in its way for the retired magistrate—so -unobtrusive of dress and manner, as he rambled from camp to camp in -the early mornings or late afternoons, when the wind had ceased and -the sun had lost his fiercer rays—to come across the men or women whom -he had known under such different conditions of life and occupation in -the long-dead days of his earlier life. Some had risen curiously high, -while others had fallen unspeakably low. - -It was pathetic to mark the sudden gleam of recognition, impossible to -suppress, that lit up the eyes, and for an instant transformed the -features of the ‘old hand,’ well known—_too_ well known, in fact—to -the police of more than one colony; the half-humble, half-defiant -change of manner, as if to say, ‘I am free now, and unless I get into -fresh “trouble” neither you nor any living man can touch me.’ - -To such he made a point of speaking a few words, such as, ‘Doing well, -Connor? Fine field this? Anything fresh turned up?’ Whatever the -answer, it would merely mean that he, the Commissioner, the man of -dread and awful powers in days gone by, had simply recognised him: -that it depended wholly upon his future conduct whether that fact -would tend to his injury. More than one of such former acquaintances -sought him out at his hotel, and trusted that he would not ‘put the -police’ on him. He was earning an honest living, and sending money to -his wife and family in Melbourne, Sydney, or Hobart, as the case might -be. ‘My good fellow,’ Mr. Banneret would reply, ‘as long as you behave -yourself, I would much rather that you did well than not. You are -getting another chance here, far away from people that know you and -what you have been. It is no business of mine to inform the police, or -any one else. Don’t drink; work hard—I know you can do _that_—and see -that your people in Melbourne are not starving while you’re living -comfortably here.’ - -‘No fear, sir! I sent ’em twenty pound last mail.’ So the man of a -chequered career went back to his tent with his heart lightened, and a -renewed resolve to go straight and reform—if indeed such a changing of -spots of the proverbial member of the carnivora were possible. -Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t. In any case his heart was -softened, and the impulse to a better life, faint though it might have -been, was distinct. - -One day he came upon a claim of four men’s ground at which the -shareholders had evidently been working hard, judging by the size of -their ‘tip.’ The men on top were, apparently, new arrivals, judging by -their fresh complexions and ruddy faces. - -‘Now, Sailor Bill!’ said the taller man, ‘what are you a-thinkin’ -of?—the clapper’s gone twice—to haul up. Dick Andrews ’ll know you’re -wool-gathering agin, same as you was when you lowered the bucket -yesterday, without puttin’ the “sprag” in, and nearly finished him.’ - -‘Hang Dick, and you too! I was a-thinkin’ if it was true as I seen in -the paper—as the p’leece was agoin’ to make a raid, as they call it, -upon the runaway sailors on the field here. There’s a goodish lot, you -know. They won’t get me. Afore I’d go home in that old tub as I come -out in, with that devil of a skipper and his mate as is worse, I’d -chuck myself down the deepest hole in the field, and make an end of -it.’ - -‘Better show them cornstalk fellers, as they call theirselves, that an -Englishman can do any work as they can, and handle any tools. It don’t -do to let ’em have the laugh at us, Bill.’ - -‘Well, I’ll give my mind a bit closer to it after this, but the chaps -work like navvies—and it’s not the only trade they’ve larnt, I can -see. Wonder what they’ve been at afore they come here?—there’s summat -queer about ’em, I’ll swear.’ - -‘Don’t know and don’t care. They’re hard-workin’ smart hands at mining -work—and that’s all we care about. There goes the double clapper—it’s -dinner time.’ - -Up came the bucket to the brace, with the man referred to as ‘Dick’ -therein—a tall man, fully six feet in height, or perhaps an inch over. -He was well made, though he carried but little flesh, and had the air -of being fully acquainted with mining and pastoral matters. He wore a -beard, with a full moustache hiding his mouth and withholding the -expression of his face from the casual observer. - -He spoke with the drawling intonation peculiar to the natives of New -South Wales, more especially those reared in the country towns of the -interior. His features were regular, his eyes grey and apparently -unobservant, though, like those of other races remote from cities and -the haunts of men, there were few objects, or incidents, which were -not quickly and comprehensively revealed to their vision. The -countenance was impassive, as of a man who was not desirous of -imparting his thoughts to chance comrades, and at the same time too -little interested in the minor matters of life to furnish conversation -about them. His hair and beard, of a fair or light brown hue, were -streaked with grey. Verging upon middle age, he was probably a few -years older, though the activity which he showed when roused to -exertion forbade the idea. Indifferent and careless as to surroundings -as he appeared to the ordinary observer, there was a hint of calm -watchfulness about his air and lounging pose which, as of a hunter in -‘Injun country,’ conveyed the idea that it would be difficult to take -him by surprise. - -The Commissioner looked fixedly at him. The man returned his gaze with -a quiet steadiness, at once remote from fear or defiance, yet as one -ready for the next movement, whether hostile or pacific. - -‘I see you know me, sir,’ said the man; ‘it’s a good few years since -we met last. You won’t give me away?’—and here the expression changed -to that of a hunted creature, which, driven into the last stronghold, -has yet the defiant courage of the wolf quarry amid the baying hounds. - -‘My good fellow, you don’t suppose I bother myself about likenesses -for all the people I’ve met during the last twenty years. I may have -seen you, or some one like you, before; but I’m a mine-owner now, and -I don’t know that I could swear to you positively. But _if_ you’ve -done anything in another colony, under another name, that has brought -you into trouble with the police, don’t get into any scrapes here; and -if ever you’re arrested again, it won’t be through me, mind that.’ - -‘God bless you, sir!’ said the man. ‘You’ve not changed. If I’m -“copped” again, it won’t matter, for I’ll be a dead man.’ - -Mr. Banneret walked away—rather hastily, as though he could not trust -himself to say more. ‘Poor devil!’ he said to himself—almost -audibly—‘I wonder how he will end? The odds are a hundred to one -against him; that’s a good paying claim, I hear, and he may—only -_may_—save up his share. He’s afraid to drink for fear of letting out -secrets—there’s a price on his head too—a big reward—which some of his -own “friends” wouldn’t mind handling. Well, there’s the last of the -lawless lot. “’Tis pity of him too,” as the Douglas said.’ It was -rather past the hour of the mid-day meal when he regained Pilot Mount, -and his face still wore an expression of doubt, almost of anxiety, as -he entered the tent, where Mr. Newstead’s lively chatter, and -Southwater’s more serious observations about business matters, and the -probable month’s ‘clean up,’ chased the cloud from his brow. - -Not only smoothly, but on the crest of the wave of prosperity, with -fair wind, and every sail set, sped on the ‘Last Chance’—that argosy -in special favour with gods and men. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -An unusually large ‘clean up’ was expected for the Christmas month; -bets had been made that no yield in Australia would rival it. It was -to go down by private escort, that is, by the waggonette belonging to -the lease, which would be driven by one of the men employed in the -mine, who was a relation of the chief shareholder, and had turned up a -few months since. He had been out of luck lately, but being a -remarkably good all-round man, a noted bushman, and ‘as hard as -nails,’ preferred work as an ordinary hand on the mine to doing -nothing, and was earning his £3 or £4 a week by manual labour. Among -his accomplishments—and he had many—were the arts of riding and -driving. Everything belonging to the use and education of ‘the noble -animal’ had been familiar to him since childhood. It was therefore -arranged that he should take charge of a four-in-hand team with the -precious cargo from Pilot Mount to the nearest railway station; and, -with Newstead, who would embrace that opportunity of ‘going home,’ be -responsible for the gold until delivered to the Master of the Mint. -All necessary arrangements were made—the solid, iron-clamped boxes, -heavy to lift, mysterious and secret of appearance, were duly weighed, -counted, and placed ready to go into the body of the strong though -light-running vehicle. - -In the early days of the vast goldfields, where now a city stands, -with ten thousand inhabitants, having shops and buildings, water -supply, electric power and light, the value of each consignment of -gold to the ‘port’ was accurately known. There were people who -considered this to be imprudent, inasmuch as the fact of there being -from thirty to fifty thousand pounds’ worth of gold on any given -vehicle, with only four or six men as a defence force, would operate -as a powerful temptation to a class of criminals well represented on -any rich goldfield. But nothing in the way of violent spoliation had -taken place so far. The waterless character of the country had been -against highway robbery, rendering such enterprises less difficult to -interrupt or follow up. Still, experienced police officers held the -opinion that it might not always be so. Miners and companies had grown -careless, by reason of the offences at present being confined to -trifling sums and localities in the city. It was well known that -criminals of the class of ‘Long Jack,’ ‘The Nugget,’ and ‘The Gipsy’ -were on the field—daring, not to say desperate men—with a long list of -convictions behind them; ready to stick at nothing when a robbery of -the first class, such as they would term ‘a big touch,’ might be -brought off. A clever disguise, with a ticket for the mail steamer, -would land the actors far away from all chance of arrest. There were -good police and sharp detectives around Pilot Mount, but up to this -stage of the field their energies had been comparatively wasted. - -Compared with the more important tragedies from time to time enacted -in New South Wales and Queensland, the ‘Golden Belt,’ as the -auriferous district had been named, was wonderfully free from the -higher developments of criminal activity. This, however, in the -opinion of the Chief Commissioner of the police department, could not -be expected to continue. As the output of gold, increasing in value -and volume, swelled the monthly reports, while as yet no adequate -scheme of defence had been organised, the more satisfied was he that a -novel and original raid on the treasure claim might at any moment be -looked for. Perhaps even now one might be maturing. - -In the meantime, the start for the coast could not come off for -several days, which were devoted to preparing for the important -journey. The waggonette was carefully examined: wheels, axles, and -springs tested—in some cases strengthened, as a breakdown on the road -would be a serious affair, and repairs difficult, if not impossible, -to effect. Nearly a week was devoted to this needful precautionary -work. In the meanwhile, the English mail steamer had arrived at -Fremantle, and among the letters forwarded to Arnold Banneret, Pilot -Mount, ‘Last Chance Mine,’ was an offer from an influential Syndicate, -with more than one noble, world-renowned name upon the Committee, to -purchase the right, title, and interest of the adjoining leases, -including the Reward Claim of that name. The Prospectus was elaborate, -setting forth that the large yields of the past foreshadowed an even -more stupendous income in the future. It pointed out that the -management might be simplified, and working expenses reduced, by -association with a group of well-known dividend-paying mines, already -owned, or controlled, by the Syndicate, while the profits would be -proportionately increased, and the dividends accruing to shareholders -might be confidently stated to be such as no modern mine, with the -exception of Mount Morgan, in Queensland, had ever touched. Of course -it would be necessary to issue a largely increased number of shares, -the capital value of which would run into millions, but the guarantee -of ‘The Southern World Associated Gold Mines Companies’ would, while -assuring shareholders of unusual dividends, make the shares negotiable -at their face value all over the English-speaking world. The present -shareholders would receive 500,000 shares—present value £500,000—with -£100,000 in cash,—estimated to represent one-half of the value of the -mine. If the present monthly output remained stationary, the dividends -would be exceptional. But if, as was almost certain, they were -increased proportionately to the improved machinery and up-to-date -management proposed to be inaugurated without delay, there would not -be an investment in Australia or South Africa which would bear -comparison with it. - -This proposal, when all mining property was going up by leaps and -bounds, met with the fullest support from all the local, and indeed -the colonial press generally. It seemed from the eulogistic notices -which poured in from all sides, British, foreign, and provincial, as -if any man or woman, with a capital exceeding a ten-pound note, must -be wanting in ordinary intelligence, criminally indifferent to the -interests of his family, of the colony in which he dwelt, or the -Empire to which he owed fealty, if he or she did not immediately take -advantage of this wonderful opportunity to enrich himself and his -family, his friends and his countrymen. - -This proposal, however, did not find favour in the eyes of the -principal shareholder. He had seen the decline and fall of so many -magnificent projects—over-capitalised, and ‘boomed’ up to highly -speculative if not fictitious values, with flattering reports and -favourable surveys, dwelling more upon the visions of the future than -the facts of the present. They had soared to an aerial height, only to -waver, and finally, after irregular gyrations, fell to rise no more, -involving all connected with the enterprise in ruinous loss, besides -damaging the reputation of solid, legitimate mining properties. He -preferred to accept the honestly earned profits of the mine, carefully -worked and safely managed; issuing monthly reports, regularly supplied -to the press, and open to all men for general information. He placed -his views so strongly before the shareholders and partners in the -‘Last Chance Proprietary Mine, Limited,’ at a special meeting summoned -to decide upon the offer of the Syndicate referred to, that it was -respectfully declined. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile the city, which had grown and flourished around the once -bare, solitary Pilot Mount, had reached a stature—a transformation, -indeed, resembling one of the dream-cities of the Eastern -story-teller,—broad streets, bright with electric lamps, and gardens -watered by an aqueduct fed from a reservoir miles distant. Thronged, -too, with every kind of vehicle, every kind of beast of burden; every -kind of horse, from the Clydesdale to the thoroughbred, from the -dog-cart trotter to the polo pony; bullock teams and camel trains -jostled one another; while well-horsed coaches daily, hourly indeed, -brought mails and passengers from distant goldfields and lately -discovered ‘rushes.’ These last were often founded upon ‘Great -Expectations,’ which too often proved unsubstantial, if not illusory. -Nevertheless, progress _was_ made notwithstanding; and the monthly -output remains to testify to the stability of the Great Industry, -energy of the population, and the increasing richness of the -auriferous area. Wonderful hotels, livery stables containing -saddle-horses sufficient to remount a squadron, arose on every side, -with race-courses and polo grounds where the young bloods of the -‘field’ disported themselves—where, indeed, such prizes as the Golden -Belt Handicap, value one thousand pounds—second horse, two hundred, -were competed for. All these, and other wonders and marvels, had been -produced—had arisen literally _out of the earth_—the auriferous -earth—so miraculously productive, by methods compared with which the -ancient processes of the sower and the reaper were contemptibly -ineffective. Think of a month’s output such as this! - - * * * * * - -It was the evening before the great event. Every one in the camp had -been working at high pressure since daylight. All things had been -arranged—all hindrances foreseen and provided for. The horses, well -fed and well groomed, were tried, staunch, and equal to long stages at -a high rate of speed. In addition to Arnold Banneret, Newstead, and -the acting coachman, another personage had been granted a seat after -consultation with old Jack. This was the miner Dick Andrews, who had -urgent private reasons for getting to Perth, and made petition to -Mr. Banneret to that end. Having, as he told that gentleman in a -conversation a few days previously, fallen upon a stroke of luck, he -was anxious to leave West Australia, and, taking his wife and children -with him, to settle in the Argentine, where, among people who had -neither seen nor heard of him before, he might lead a new life, and -cut himself clear of old ties and associations. - -‘I’ve nigh on five hundred ounces in this bag, sir,’ he said, ‘and if -you’ll have it put up with your lot you can hold it as security, like, -till you’re banking your own. It’s been weighed all right, and there’s -Mr. Stewart’s handwriting along with it in the wash-leather bag. I -don’t read, nor write either, as you know—more’s the pity—but I seen -him take it from the scales, and write on it, and seal it up all -reg’lar. Life’s uncertain (as the parson says), and our lot’s not the -sort to make old bones. I’d trust you, Commissioner, with my life. -It’s no great odds off that now, I reckon. And you’ll stand by me now, -won’t you? I’ve been a bad chap, but I’ve not had much of a chance. A -little thing would have turned me on the right track—and that little I -didn’t get. You never knowed me do anything crooked, sir? and the -shootin’ racket was straightforrard between man and man.’ - -‘I don’t know that I’m doing right, Dick, in helping you off the field -this way, but I saw your wife and the boy and girl at Southern Cross. -I’ll chance it for their sakes—I’ve heard you were always good to -them.’ - -The man called ‘Dick’ did not speak—perhaps the words would not -come—but as he turned his head away with an indistinct murmur, a keen -observer might have seen in those eyes, which had looked so often -upon danger, and fronted Death unfalteringly, an unfamiliar -moisture—scarcely to be distinguished from a tear. - -The day closed murkily, and with a faint pretence of storm and shower, -such as, on a hundred former occasions, had resulted in the usual -disappointment to the dwellers in that sun-scorched land. Wind -probably, thought the Camp generally, or perhaps a ‘Darling River -shower’—four drops upon five acres! Meanwhile the sky grew black, the -air became heavy, the sultry heat oppressive—appearances such as in -any other land would have immediately preceded a thunderstorm, with a -fall of rain: an unspoken call to the elements to clear the air and -relieve the o’erburdened senses; but none answered. Gradually the -clouds dispersed, the sun receded below the dim, distant horizon, and, -save the occasional flicker of sheet-lightning, nothing remained as -result of the portentous threatening which so lately seemed to disturb -the illimitable waste, hardly less solitary, save for this ephemeral -gathering, than the unbounded sea. - -The evening meal had been long concluded. The different groups sat -smoking, or conversing in low tones. The skies were again clear, and -the heavenly host lit up the dark-blue firmament, throwing a kindly -mantle over the homelier features of the desolate levels upon which -the Pilot Mount looked down. - -Mr. Newstead was calmly smoking, and playing with his pet fox-terrier, -a well-bred animal, boasting a pedigree from distinguished English -prize-winners. ‘Yes, Minniekins,’ said he, ‘I’m going home, and you’re -going too, first cabin. Isn’t it a lark? don’t think I ever saw a dog -of your age show so much class. You’ll scoop all the prizes in our -County Show next year—if you don’t get sea-sick and ruin your -constitution, as some passengers do. Won’t we have a jolly time when -we see Old England, eh, Minniekins? You’ve never seen grass yet, -y’know, nor rain either. That sounds droll, doesn’t it? You’re only -two years old, and it rains once in five years here, don’t y’know? -Droll country—no rain, no grass, no grain; grows nothing but gold. -That’s good enough, though. Won’t we talk to them when we get -to the little village, eh? Now what are _you_ thinking of, -Minniekins—smelling a nigger, or a dingo? No camels in sight. What is -it? I can see you’re nervous—what an excitable little woman it is! You -mustn’t bite the butcher again, or we’ll be brought before the beak -for keeping a ferocious dog, don’t y’know?’ - -The terrier raised herself quietly, and stood looking out into the -starlit night. She was a remarkably intelligent animal, much attached -to her master, who had given a fancy price for her, and often stated -that a plainer dog in England, of her class, had cost him £50. She -stretched her neck, as if looking for something, and gave vent to a -low, querulous whine. Still uneasy, she continued to exhibit the same -anxious air of disapproval, though, as yet, not committing herself to -the arrival of an enemy, possibly only a suspicious stranger. Once -before, when camped out near a lonely ‘soak’ with Denzil Southwater, -he had been warned by her long before the approach of a thievish -aboriginal, and had therefore time for preparation, which enabled them -to rout the ‘Injun’ with loss. Since then the character of Minniekins -had stood deservedly high in the camp, where she took rank as a -general favourite, to be petted, and bragged about by every man on the -pay-sheet of the ‘Last Chance Proprietary, Limited.’ - -Minniekins growled in a low, menacing manner. Then suddenly dashing -forward, she barked furiously, and rushed at a man who was advancing -rapidly on the camp. A smothered oath, and a savage kick which sent -the poor little thing yards away, with a broken leg, told of a frontal -attack by the enemy. At the same moment, as it appeared, the man, and -a dozen others, mysteriously emerging from the shadows at different -points, made a rush for the room in which the gold-boxes had been -stacked, firing their revolvers as they came on. The unarmed inmates -of the camp—two shift bosses and Mr. Newstead, with three or four -wages men—were taken completely by surprise. - -Denzil Southwater was in his tent writing a home letter. For a moment -it seemed, as the compact body of strangers moved up perilously near -to the treasure-room, that the fort would be carried by assault. - -But two of the garrison were neither unarmed nor unprepared: these -were the man called ‘Dick,’ and old Jack. The latter was dressed for a -walk to the township, a ceremonious visit which included a revolver in -his hip-pocket loaded in every chamber. ‘Nothin’ like bein’ “heeled,” -as we used ter say in the States,’ he would answer to any remark made -on this as a superfluous precaution. ‘It’s come in handy mor’n once or -twice either, since then; yer never know what’ll turn up on a -goldfield.’ His habit was justified on this occasion. The tall robber -had fired point blank at Mr. Newstead, who, struck on the point of the -shoulder, fell as if badly wounded, when Dick Andrews sprang forward, -firing two shots with lightning quickness. - -The tall man dropped on his face, and lay still, while a shorter -ruffian, apparently bent on reaching the camp, staggered wildly, then -fell backwards, discharging his revolver in the act. A younger man had -been badly hit by old Jack, while another had been captured by Denzil -Southwater, who, dashing at him, unarmed, knocked up his revolver, and -catching him a half-arm blow on the ‘point,’ held him, dazed, with a -broken jaw, till the mine hands came up, and tied his hands behind -him. The other men, seeing that the game was up, took to their heels, -and lost themselves in the crowd which was pouring with increasing -volume up the slopes of the Pilot Mount. The tableau was -imposing—Minniekins on three legs, still barking furiously; the tall -man, easily identified as ‘Long Jack,’ a criminal of many aliases, -lying on his face, stone dead! while Mr. Southwater’s prisoner, bound -and blasphemous, stood in the centre of an excited crowd apparently -anxious to lynch him then and there. However, Inspector Furnival, -arriving with a strong body of police soon after, carried him off in -the name of the Law, much to the disappointment of the public, who -openly expressed their regret that Judge Lynch was not afforded an -opportunity of proving the superiority of prompt trial and decisive -action to the tardy verdict of an Assize Court. In the camp the -casualties were: Arnold Banneret, bullet graze on temple; Newstead, -wound in left shoulder; Minniekins, broken fore-leg; while the man -called ‘Dick,’ shot through the lungs, was in a serious, if not -dangerous condition. - -What a change from the gay hopes of the morning, when all had risen -with the prospect of welcome travel—a respite from the monotonous toil -of goldfield life; and, in the case of the escort party, returning to -the luxuries of city life—to the society of friends and relatives, -with the prestige of successful adventurers! - -How narrowly, thought Arnold Banneret, had he himself escaped the fate -of the robber, slain in his last fight against society; a shade nearer -to the vital centre, and he would have lain ready for his coffin, even -as the outcast criminal who, indeed, had paid the last penalty of a -life of crime, in which even murder had been familiar. What a -termination to the joyous imaginations with which he and his wife had -regarded the speculation which promised so fairly! Fancy the headlines -of the local papers:— - - ‘The Last Chance Mine.’ - Attempt to carry off the Escort Gold! - Five-and-twenty thousand ounces! - Desperate encounter. Two men killed: - Mr. Banneret and ‘Long Jack.’ - Several of the Escort wounded. - Immense excitement on the Field. - - * * * - - Special Evening Edition of - The _Clarion_. - - Our Contemporary misinformed: - Mr. Banneret not killed. - He and Dick Andrews, the well-known Miner, - dangerously wounded—the latter, while - defending the Escort heroically, shot through - the body. ‘The Gipsy’ captured by the Honourable - Denzil Southwater, a Shareholder, who was unarmed. - Lord Newstead suffering from a broken arm. - Full particulars in our morning issue. - -The effect of this and similar announcements may be imagined. Public -feeling was stirred to its inmost depths. The police force, as usual, -was denounced for incapacity and indolence, and the Government of the -day arraigned for want of foresight, unreadiness, and general -ignorance of its duties. As to the administration of law and order on -this, the richest, the most extensive goldfield in Australia—the only -parallel case commensurate with its abnormal inefficiency was that of -the British War Office. But the West Australian Cabinet might yet earn -the notoriety of having sacrificed a colony if this sort of thing was -allowed to go on unchecked—and so on, and so on. The opposition -journal of course discounted ‘the habitual exaggeration of a -contemporary, the editor of which could not allude to an attempt at -the looting of a rich treasure-cargo—an attempt which had signally -failed, moreover—without dragging in absurd parallels equally out of -date and out of reason. Omniscient as he claimed to be, he had not -become acquainted with the fact, now for the first time divulged to -their reporter, a gentleman of wide experience in Australian and -American mines, that “Dick Andrews,” a working miner, and shareholder -in the Reward Claim, who shot dead the well-known desperado “Long -Jack” and wounded “The Nugget”—formerly of Port Arthur—was no other -than the notorious Richard Lawless, the brother of Ned and Kate, -concerned in the killing of Inspector Francis Dayrell, in pursuance of -a vendetta cherished for years by the Lawless family. They eventually -accomplished his death. Lured into an ambush, thus fell one of the -most daring and energetic officers of the Police Force of Victoria. -They had evaded the warrants issued for their apprehension, -disappearing in the “Never-Never” regions of Queensland, chiefly -populated, if all tales be true, by refugees of their class and -character. From this “land of lost souls” Kate Lawless returned to die -by her own hand on the grave of her child at Running Creek on Monaro; -while her brother Richard, a marvellous bushman and all-round worker, -as are many of his compatriots, has been employed under the very noses -of the police as “Dick Andrews,” remarkable only for his steady, -hardworking habits and inoffensive general demeanour. Tall, spare, and -sinewy, wearing the ordinary beard of the dweller in the Waste, he was -in no way distinguishable from the thousands of Australians whom the -magnet of the “Golden Belt” has drawn with resistless force to our -colony. There is no intention, we hear, of putting the law in force -against him; for he will be arraigned before a Higher Court, a more -august Judge, than Australia can furnish. His wounds are mortal. His -hours are numbered. And before to-morrow’s sun leaves Pilot Mount in -darkness, the soul of the erring, but not wholly lost homicide, whom -men knew as Dick Lawless, will have quitted its earthly tenement for -the final audit.’ - -The editorial dictum was prophetic. Mr. Banneret and Denzil -Southwater, watching by the dying man’s couch, listened to his last -words while the labouring breath grew faint—then failed for ever. One -bullet had pierced his left lung; another had lodged in the spine. -Both injuries were mortal. It was a question of hours—of few of them -indeed. - -‘I stopped “Long Jack,” Commissioner!’ he said, while a slow smile of -satisfaction lit up the calm features, ‘afore he got in another pot at -you. He’d not have missed twice. I’m goin’ out, and except for the -wife and kids I don’t know as it’s much odds; there’s enough to keep -them when she gets back to Tumut, where her people live. Land’s easy -got there; a bit of corn-flat with a few cows ’ll keep her easy and -comfortable. The boy and girl ’ll get schoolin’ till they’re out in -the world, and their mother won’t tell ’em too much about me—their -poor father, as died in his right place—a-standin’ off them as tried -to collar the gold he’d worked hard for. You write it out, -Mr. Southwater—all as I’ve said, and just put Richard Lawless his mark -at the foot. The Commissioner might witness it—if he’ll be so good—and -you too, sir.’ - -They complied with the sufferer’s request. Great drops of blood welled -up from the shattered lung, as between gasps he laboriously formed -the cross which validated his will, made for the benefit of the woman -who had followed him from the green, fertile valley, where the -sparkling river comes leaping down from the snow-crowned alp. With her -he had been ever mild and patient—a tireless worker when work was to -be had—often away for months at a time, but reserved as to his -occupation. Brokenly, and with hesitation, he said: ‘Commissioner! -I’ll die easier like if you’ll shake hands afore I go. It’s a -suspension o’ labour in a manner of speakin’.’ And with a quiet smile -on his lips at an old goldfields jest, the soul of ‘Dick Andrews,’ -otherwise Richard Lawless, fled away from its earthly tenement, -leaving the hand of Arnold Banneret, ex-Commissioner of Barrawong, New -South Wales, still enclosed in a dead man’s rigid grasp. - -‘Poor Dick! poor chap!’ said Banneret; ‘there goes a man’s life made -for better things. I suppose he _did_ save mine—barring accident. That -long ruffian wouldn’t have missed twice. With the exception of the -vendetta business with Dayrell—and there are two versions of that -story—I never heard of his doing anything mean or dishonest—that is -“crooked”’—he added reflectively—having regard to the prevailing tone -of Monaro morality. - - * * * * * - -The fervour of the editors of all the journals, printed within a -thousand miles or so, having exhausted itself and the public interest, -matters returned to their normal state and condition. The escort -waggonette, artistically tooled by Gore Chesterfield, cleared out for -Perth at sunrise one fine morning, ‘laden’ (as the local mining organ -put it) ‘with gold, ammunition, firearms, and decayed gentlefolk.’ On -the box-seat, between Mr. Banneret and the charioteer, sat an -aristocratic society dame of ducal connections, who, originally -voyaging to Fremantle with maternal solicitude, had remained to take a -hand in the mining adventure of the period. Having been down the -deepest mine of the ‘field,’ and across the desert on a camel as far -as the famous ‘Leonora’ and ‘Mount Idalia,’ in both of which ‘shows’ -she had invested sensationally, she was not to be daunted by the -off-chance of a bullet wound on the present journey. The perils of -this passage through the wilderness were, however, minimised by the -attendance of a doubled police escort and half a hundred volunteer -guards, who (shares in the popular investment of the day, the -‘Rotherwood’ mine, being at a premium and rising fast) resolved to -combine the performance of a patriotic duty with the excitement of a -‘jamberoo’ in Perth, and ‘a whiff of the briny’ long looked forward -to, and, before this happy conjunction of profit and pleasure, almost -despaired of. When it is considered that most of the men who composed -this advanced guard were young, or youthful-seeming—that the prospects -of the majority were like the climate, sunny in the extreme—that -fortune had lately showered favours upon nearly all,—it may be -imagined what a joyous cavalcade, dashing at reckless speed through -plain and thicket—waking the long-silent, solitary champaign with -song and shout—the ‘Last Chance’ escort must have appeared to the -ordinary wayfarer. - - O Death in Life, the days that are no more. - -The treasure was duly deposited in the banks of the period; certain -favourites of fortune, among them the lady of the box-seat, took -passage by the outgoing mail-steamer. Lord Newstead was bound for -‘England, home, and beauty,’ whence his return was problematical; -Arnold Banneret for Sydney; while Messrs. Chesterfield and Southwater -would return to the vicinity of Pilot Mount, not having as yet -acquired the ‘pile’ which was to crown the pyramid of a life’s -endeavour. Arnold Banneret made a final adieu to the ‘Reward Claim,’ -having by wire received a declaration from his wife that, ‘no matter -how many ounces to the ton the “Last Chance” produced, never again -would she consent to his putting foot on that goldfield; even if his -presence was indispensable to prevent Pilot Mount from being turned -into a volcano in full working order, her resolve remained -unalterable. What she had suffered when she heard the news (false as -it turned out to be) of his death, could never be endured twice. So -now, he knew.’ When Mrs. Banneret concluded an argument with these -words the ‘incident was closed.’ Her sympathetic partner ‘for better -for worse’ resigned himself to a future existence hampered only by the -necessity of finding use for a capital of a hundred thousand pounds or -two, ‘with all the woes it brings.’ - -He promised himself the satisfaction, however, of revisiting Tumut, -and personally assuring the future of Mrs. Richard Lawless and her -children, which, as he had always loved and admired the place and -people, he regarded as a sacred duty, and a delightful holiday not to -be neglected. Thus, filled with anticipations of home-returning joys, -as he trod once more the deck of the P. & O. liner _Baghdad_, marked -once more the Oriental garb, and heard the familiar-sounding voices of -the Lascar crew, his heart swelled within him, as in ‘the dear, dead -days beyond recall.’ - - * * * * * - -The return voyage in the _Baghdad_ was pure unmixed delight. Very -rarely is it otherwise in the ‘floating clubs’ of the P. & O. ‘The -liner she’s a lady,’ in every sense of the word. In the eyes of the -outward-bound passengers for England Arnold Banneret and Lord Newstead -were heroes and ‘conquistadores,’ rivalling the comrades of Pizarro -returning from Peru laden with the treasure of the Incas. Lord -Newstead secured the larger share of admiration—young and handsome, -heir to an historic name, wounded in the fight, what modern gallant -could hope to rival him in the good graces of the lady passengers? His -right arm still supported by a sling, and his disabled condition, -called forth many proffers of active sympathy. - -Mr. Banneret, on account of his age and patriarchal rank, was not so -much an object of interest and admiration; nevertheless, the ‘scar on -his brown cheek revealed’ if not ‘a token true of Bosworth Field,’ a -genuine record of a ‘close call,’ as an American ‘shift boss,’ -travelling east from ‘Great Holder,’ entitled the incident. - -Their gold, now safe under hatches, was variously estimated at from -fifty to a hundred thousand ounces, according to the experience or -imagination of the narrator. The winds and waves were kind; the Great -Bight was so smooth that ‘you’d hardly know it,’ as a fair voyager of -experience in the South Pacific characterised it. And shortly after -the dawnlight—clearer grown, and faintly roseate-hued—opened to view -the sandstone portals of the harbour lake of the South, the -_Baghdad’s_ passengers, in cabs, carriages, trams, and omnibuses, -distributed themselves throughout the Sydney clubs and hotels, with an -economy of time and trouble unattainable in any but the mother State. - - * * * * * - -Home again! Everything had gone well in his absence. For the twentieth -time Arnold Banneret vowed that never again would he leave the -domestic Eden for the outer world, how fair soever might be the lure -held out by inconstant fortune. The girls were growing up; his boys, -like every other man’s boys, needed the occasional parental -warning—the guiding hand. His wife’s cheek paled as she traced the -still visible track of the robber’s bullet. ‘What was sufficient -repayment, what compensation adequate, for such risks? And if——’ but -she would not suffer him to proceed with the conjectures of what -_might_ have happened. The ‘if’ had remained undeveloped, so there was -no use speculating on grisly possibilities. - -Sydney was more beauteous than ever, with glorious gardens, and the -daily ocean breeze. Say that the noonday heat was at times oppressive, -what was it in comparison with the terrible sun-rays of the West—a -tent only between the dweller therein and the cloudless, relentless -sky? The glorious semi-tropical foliage of the sea-girt city, the -lawns so freshly verdurous, the stately pines, the flowering shrubs, -the rose thickets, the carefully tended, if somewhat narrow roads, -which, winding around the harbour cliffs, open out such enchanting -views of sea and shore, earth and sky—specially arranged for the -delectation of strangers and pilgrims! The swift-winged yachts and -pleasure-boats still floated like sea-gulls above the translucent -wave. All these delights and refreshments smote the senses of the -home-returning wayfarer almost as freshly as if tasted for the first -time. - -Then the delicious awakening in the fair, sweet dawn of the early -summer, with the certainty that there was now no need for doubt or -anxiety touching the family fortunes. A competence, nay, more than a -sufficiency for all their needs, was assured. Their luck had turned. -No more was it necessary to go stolidly on with the daily work which -gained the daily bread. There was not, could not be again, the -necessity for calculation as to what liability required to be arranged -for—what pressing account to be paid in full, or if not, compromised -by payment on account. Such things had been in the past—in that -shadowy region now so dim and distant-seeming. No, thank God! and a -wave of gratitude passed through his every sense and faculty as he -realised that those days and their accompanying sacrifices had passed -away for ever. Were they happier now? In his musings by the seashore, -at eve or moonrise, he sometimes asked himself the question. The reply -was not always in the affirmative. They had been happy—truly, -consciously happy, then. If there were difficulties, they had overcome -them. If there had been debts and doubts, anxiety never far distant, -succour unexpected had come in time of need. The responsibilities of -official position had been great—at times almost overpowering, but -their very magnitude had stimulated his energies—he had never -faltered; strong in the resolve to deal justly, impartially, with the -high questions committed to his judgment, he had fought through -opposition, misrepresentation, and discouragement, to emerge at last, -with the approval of his conscience and the confidence of the -heterogeneous workers whom he had ruled for a quarter of a century. - -And now, having passed through the _Sturm und Drang_ of early manhood, -he had reached a period of life when youth had flown—when strength and -activity could no longer be looked for—when whatever changes took -place must necessarily be, in some respects, for the worse. What would -the future be? In what direction would the rising generation of the -family, nay, of Australia, be impelled? - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -What would be the character, the fate of this infant British nation, -so strangely inaugurated, so wondrously, providentially, even, cast -forth upon the shore of an almost unknown continent? - -The exiles came to strive with hostile natives and an unfamiliar -climate. They found, day by day, birds and beasts, plants and seasons, -alike foreign to all previous experience. Yet, so far, how amazingly -has prospered the daring experiment in colonisation! - -This founding of empires was undertaken with the splendid British -contempt for obstacles and dangers, which, if often giving -encouragement to apparently imprudent enterprises, has always ennobled -the race. Not only was it such, but initiated almost in the throes of -a conflict which imperilled Britain’s national existence,—a war, under -the ablest generals, directed by the subtlest organising intellect in -the then known world, aiming not so much at European conquest as the -subjugation of the Mistress of the Seas! - -But the haughty Spaniard—in the sixteenth century—who had planned to -humble, to discrown, was doomed, like the world-absorbing Corsican, -to ruin and defeat—his ‘invincible Armada,’ tempest-driven on the -rocks of a hostile coast, his grandest towering ‘tall Amiral,’ -shot-shattered, burned, sunk, and destroyed by the unconquered naval -heroes of ‘the spacious times of Great Elizabeth.’ What men the times -bred!—captains by land and sea: soldiers, whether privates or -officers, who, trained to obey to the death, stood unflinching or -advanced resistless; sailors who walked above the blood-stained decks, -cool as on a carpet, or swarmed over the enemy’s battleship to the -maddening sound of ‘Boarders away,’ where every third man fell dead or -wounded. - -Have we such sailors, such soldiers still? - -Yes! a thousand times, yes! and from this very land of the distant -South. Was it not abundantly proved in the South African War, when the -half-disciplined or wholly untrained colonial troops, whether -Canadians, Australians, New Zealanders, or Tasmanians, excited the -wonder and admiration of all competent critics?—their initiative, -their endurance, their intelligence proved on many a hard-fought -field; not less also the stubborn valour which gloried in scorning to -surrender, while the last man and the last horse lay dying, side by -side! - -From the weird, carelessly culled British crowd, flung as exiles on -the shores of the far unknown South land, labourers and lawgivers, -criminals and clerks—what a people has been evolved! The Briton has -justified his constant boast, that, given the nucleus of a British -community, with free soil, free law, and his inherent right to appeal -to it for relief against wrong and injustice, the community will -develop the race-characteristics of the ancestral isle. From the -oppressed band of Puritans, content to face the rock-bound coast, the -storm-tossed ocean, the crafty, ruthless savage, if only they might -enjoy religious freedom—from the men and women of their own creed and -colour, crowded in unwholesome vessels—sold, yes, sold into slavery on -arrival—from every kind of absconder and Adullamite, a newer, greater -Britain confronts the world: in arms, a fearless rival; in peace or -war, the strongest, the best educated, the most successful nation, -this day, beneath the sun. Leavened by the virtue, the intellect, the -heroism of the Pilgrim Band, the colossal American republic stands -to-day, ready to face the universe in honourable contest: in contest -for commercial success—for the triumphs of Art—for intellectual -pre-eminence—for scientific progress. - -What other human hive throws off such swarms as Britain the -Unconquered—collectors from generation to generation of all things -rich and precious in the eyes of men? Strong to defend also the -treasure-cells; to punish, with fierce and deadly sting, the spoiler -and the freebooter,—in material success rivalling, if not surpassing, -the ancestral Briton. - -The vast, impressive Dominion of Canada, about to take rank as the -world’s granary, has shown her devoted loyalty to the British Empire -in the recent war, and but for the mistaken policy of the British -Government—in the days of Lord North—the Great Republic of the United -States might have been as firmly joined to the Mother Isle as the -daughter States of Australia and New Zealand—forming a colossal -bulwark against anarchy, socialism, and unnecessary interference with -the world’s peace. That the rupture between Britain and her greatest -oversea possession was suffered to take place, owing to the obstinacy -of a mistaken King and a feeble Cabinet, was deplored by contemporary -intellects of distinction. It has been even more deeply regretted by -all thoughtful Britons, whether colonists or home-born, even unto this -present day. - - * * * * * - -On a certain Saturday morning the mail steamer arrived from the east, -bearing such passengers for Fremantle and Perth as desired to behold -the world-famed goldfields of which they had heard so much. - -Newspapers from Europe and America were then attainable. What long, -luxurious Sunday morning lounges for the happy possessors of the -latest news did these precious ‘home papers’ and letters represent! -The younger son, roughly garbed, toil-worn, it may well be ragged -even, smiled in his abundant beard as the post-mark of the village -near the ancestral hall met his eager eyes. What tidings would the -closely guarded sheets furnish? The death of the ailing sister—of the -fond mother, the aged father, to whom he had vowed, with the careless -confidence of youth, to return laden with gold, or bearing in other -form the imprint of success and distinction. How he rejoiced audibly -to find that all was well! The Squire, hearty and hale, as of -old—looking forward to the hunting season, or the annual ‘shoot’ over -his preserves, with unabated confidence; the younger brother had taken -his degree at Oxford, or Cambridge, and was safe for a curacy—there -was a living in the family. - -‘Thank God! Nothing wrong this time. Perhaps this time next year I may -see my way.’ Then comes the sigh of hope deferred. Besides newspapers -came people. Not so many as in the earlier days of the rich yields and -the big ‘rushes.’ Mining, of course, not so sensational. Up-to-date -appliances, improved machinery, with a steadier monthly output, and so -on. - -A close watch was, however, kept on the passenger list, as there was -no knowing who might not turn up, or from whence. The men working now -in the big mines as metallurgists, ‘shift bosses,’ or mine managers, -chiefly well-born, often highly cultured and gently nurtured, had -travelled far amid the older lands and cities,—historically famous,—as -well as amid these newly found desert wastes: this arid, solitary, -trackless wilderness so recently exploited by civilised man, with his -absorbing needs. When, therefore, Gore Chesterfield threw down the -paper containing the passenger list of the P. & O. liner _Aden_, with -an exclamation denoting surprise and satisfaction, the deduction was -easy that a comrade of earlier years had arrived, with whom it would -be a relief and a luxury to exchange confidences. ‘By Jove!’ he -exclaimed, ‘this is a rum start!—who would ever have thought of Lytton -Carteret of Guy’s, of all people in the world, turning up here? Why, -he was with me in that expedition of Herman Paul’s on the -pre-Phœnician “placers,” worrying through the ruins left by these rum -chaps. Did they find gold? Yes, and plenty of it, judging by what we -saw. But they went about it in a scientific manner—not like our -burrowings and scratchings, living under canvas, and roasting our -souls and bodies under canvas—like lunatics, as Eastern people -consider all Englishmen to be.’ - -‘Well, what did they do that gave them such a “break” over us?’ -inquired his Australian-born mate, belonging to a pioneer family -founded by a retired military officer who had fought under Wellington -through the long blood-stained Peninsular War from Ciudad Rodrigo to -Waterloo, and who had turned his sword into a ploughshare after -marrying one of the daughters of the land. - -‘Do? What we don’t seem to manage so well in these latter days of -civilisation about which we brag so unnecessarily. Built walled -cities, or something near akin; put pressure on the Kaffirs and Zulus, -tribesmen of the day (of course not these very fellows); but they made -them work, whoever they were. First of all, built stone forts, inside -which they could defy the heathen artillery of the period, cross-bows -and arrows, with lances, maces, javelins, and so forth, for close -fighting. They had pots and crucibles, smelted ore, and the rest of -it. Oh! they were pretty well up to date, I can tell you.’ - -‘Sounds well,’ said his comrade, who was scientific as well as -practical—had taken two firsts, and two second scholarships at an -Australian University for Civil Engineering. ‘Why did you and he come -away from such a jolly interesting place?’ - -‘H—m! the death-rate was high, water bad, climate awful, steamy and -airless; besides, to tell the truth, I suspected the working director -of looking upon us much as Bismarck did the rank and file of the -Prussian army—not perhaps exactly as “Kanonenfutter,” but to be -expended (“gastados,” as the Spanish idiom is) primarily in the cause -of science, chiefly for the glorification and renown of Sigismund -Paulsen, botanist, member of the Society of Explorers, etc. etc.; you -can’t beat a German leader for that. He is everything and everybody; -the rest are nothing and nobody. So Carteret and I cleared.’ - -‘Where did he go?’ - -‘Restless and dissatisfied as usual—capital operations not -sufficiently numerous to compensate for loss of time—thought he’d try -the South Sea Islands.’ - -‘Any gold there?’ - -‘None so far; but human life little regarded—obscure diseases, and a -possible discovery, his absorbing life-long quest for a cure of _the_ -most terrible, insidious, so-called incurable disease, Leprosy!’ - -‘Horrible to think of! Why did he pick the most hopeless evil in the -whole world—the most loathsome?’ - -‘Just because it _was_ so. He had lost a friend by it, or rather, he -had seen him deported to Molokai, the leper island, where Father -Damien lived and died—himself a martyr-victim. The South Sea law is, -that when the incipient symptom shows itself—the white circular mark -never known to indicate falsely—the patient is carried off, and landed -on the Island of the Lost, whence he or she can never return to -civilisation.’ - -‘And do you mean to tell me that a man’s wife, or his child, can be -legally torn from him and cast into hell—as such an accursed spot must -be—compelled to live out the remainder of life there? What a fate—what -a mockery of civilisation!’ - -‘This law, like others, was made for the preservation of society in -the mass; better that the few should suffer than that the many be -infected. So Carteret was compelled to see his friend torn from his -wife, to witness his despair. They had only been married a few months. -None knew, of course, how the infection was taken, nor did it matter. -He was landed on that awful strand—is there now—where at a certain -time in the evening the cries and groans of the patients in the more -advanced stages can be plainly heard. Carteret is hardly sane on the -subject, and from that hour resolved to devote his life to the -discovery of a cure. To this end he made an exhaustive study of the -disease in all its manifestations and stages of development. Worn with -study, lowered in health and spirits, he turned to the as yet -practically untrodden fields of research in the east of Asia, resolved -to test the boundless, half-mythical solitudes on the northern -frontier of India. These he traversed, cheerfully risking health, -freedom, life itself, if but the end could be obtained—the salvation -of his friend, the happiness of Lilburne’s peerless wife. She was his -cousin, and they had been boy and girl lovers.’ - -‘And has no cure ever been found for the disease?’ asked Leslie -Bournefield. ‘So many physical evils have been attacked successfully -of late years—X-rays, and what’s that other boon to mankind—Radium?’ - -‘Reports of cures, of course, but rarely authenticated,’ replied -Chesterfield. ‘One feels doubtful, but nothing will discourage -Carteret. He will go on searching till he dies, or Mrs. Lilburne does. -Then, unless he elects to serve humanity in general for her sake—“in -memoriam”—I fear his interest in the question will cease. His last -remaining hope was in a nostrum said to be the property of the monks -of Vatopede.’ - -‘Where in the world is that?’ - -‘It is the largest of the monasteries of Mount Athos, in the Levant. -The richest, too, they say—built by the Emperor Constantine the Great. -That worthy monarch, like Naaman the Syrian, was afflicted with -leprosy. He thereupon ordered a number of children to be killed, a -bath of innocent blood being the favourite remedy of the day! While -they were selecting them, it was revealed to him in a vision that if -he became a baptized Christian the leprosy would depart from him. He -did so; he was immediately restored to health, and the children were -set free. The legend is related by Moses Chorensis, whose veracity is -undoubted. One miraculous cure having occurred in their monastery, the -good monks were not minded to let the fame thereof die out.’ - -‘What did they do to that end?’ - -‘It must be remembered that all monasteries of importance numbered -among the brethren some who specially devoted themselves to the study -and practice of medicine. To heal the sick was a part, an important -part of the charity to which all members of monastic orders were -vowed. As in the case of the nuns of certain convents, these -institutions held specifics warranted to alleviate the more virulent -diseases. Pilgrims from all parts of the civilised world resorted to -the more famous monasteries. Many reached their homes professing to be -cured. If not wholly restored to health, the undoubting religious -faith of the mediæval period completed the process. Even in this age -of analysis and positivism, do not the professors of the Christian -Science cult work nearly on similar lines? And what quasi-miracles do -they not allege? It must be remembered also that the monastic student, -undisturbed by the distractions of a later age, safe within the -massive convent walls, had enviable opportunities for perfecting his -empirical remedies. Small wonder, then, that in course of time the -priceless potion distilled from herbs grown only in the garden of -Vatopede, mysteriously connected with the cure of Constantine the -Great, came to be accepted as the sovereign remedy for the disease, -alike terrible and insidious, which, since the dawn of history, had -smitten with fatal power the peasant in his cabin, the noble in his -castle, the king upon his throne.’ - -‘All this is very instructive, of course,’ said Bournefield, ‘but I -can’t say I’ve taken much interest in the medical aspect of this curse -of mankind; without meaning to be frivolous, I always thought it -principally concerned the people of old Biblical times, and that it -was practically unknown in these modern days.’ - -‘But you’ve heard of the Little Bay Leper Hospital in Sydney?’ - -‘I’ve seen reference from time to time in the papers. Half-a-dozen -Chinamen there, are there not?’ - -‘Double the number, at least. But would you be surprised to hear that -within the last few years two European ladies—rich, cultured, -travelled, possessed of everything necessary for comfort and -happiness—had been confined there?’ - -‘Surely not! Impossible! Is your information trustworthy?’ - -‘I was told of it by a Government official—an old family friend, a man -of the highest reputation for truth and probity, with access to all -such institutions by right of position.’ - -‘I suppose he told you more. How, in Heaven’s name, did it come to -pass?’ - -‘It seems that these ladies were, in a literary sense, exploiting the -South Sea Islands world, with which earthly paradise, as it appeared -to them, they were charmed—one may even say intoxicated, as were many -before them. The younger one (they were aunt and niece) took -photographs and kept a diary—she purposed to write a book when they -reached “home.” Poor girl! how little she thought where that home was -to be!’ - -‘And so?’ - -‘Yes, indeed!—gruesome, mysterious, hardly credible; but true, or it -would not be life. They left Honolulu for Sydney in the San Francisco -boat after touching at Ponapé. For a week all went well. Then they -kept their cabins. The stewardess, the doctor, when appealed to, would -say nothing beyond that the lady passengers were ill—very ill; fever -perhaps; people often got it in these latitudes. But by and by dark -rumours began to emanate from the forecastle—the crew knew what sort -of _fever_ was occasionally spoken of with bated breath by island -passengers. Captain and mate knew _nothing_—bluffed off all inquiry. -But the Health Officer came on board directly the Heads were passed. -It was early morning. The doctor was interviewed, and a very strict -examination made of passengers and crew. After which the two lady -passengers, muffled up to the eyes, were carried off in the doctor’s -own boat. They were transferred without loss of time to the Little Bay -Hospital. _Leprosy_, of course! Poor things! it was never known how -they contracted it, but the fact was indisputable.’ - -‘Was it known before they came on board?’ - -‘Not suspected for an instant. But within a week after leaving they -began (the stewardess said) to suffer from great depression and -strange, unaccountable sensations. Dull pains, accompanied by -semi-delirious conditions, supervened, gradually becoming more acute -and distressing. The doctor prescribed medicines which gave temporary -relief, but did not explain his suspicions, and advised confinement to -their cabins; occasionally, as the boat neared Sydney, sobs and -wailing cries were heard by the attendants. As little as possible was -said, and the facts of the case did not find their way into the -papers.’ - -‘I never heard of anything so dreadful in my life,’ said the listener; -‘I feel like a man in a dream. But what became of them?’ - -‘The elder lady died, mercifully, within the year, after which the -younger became insane, and was taken to an asylum, where she may be -lingering yet for all I know. Better dead, perhaps.’ - -‘Of course the seizures are one in a thousand compared with the ratio -of people killed by typhoid fever or smallpox—but what an awful -possibility! One shudders at the thought not only of pain -unceasing—almost unendurable, but of becoming loathsome to one’s -fellow-creatures, even to one’s nearest and dearest. Why such a -sacrifice of all things held dear to humanity should be permitted, -shakes one’s belief in the Divine interposition in mundane affairs.’ - -‘Which leads into the domain of the unknowable, where the paths are -dubious. Thank Heaven at least for the power of action! _That_ at -least is left to us. “So to bed,” as the late Mr. Pepys hath it.’ - -Carteret left for the coast on the following day. His next letter was -from Honolulu, whence he had formulated a plan, and taken the first -steps towards the fulfilment of a long-devised scheme of relief. The -‘hour had come,’ he wrote, and, what was of more importance, ‘the -man.’ - -Plentiful, and easy to be secured for adequate pay, as were the -sailors of fortune on or around the beaches of Ponapé and Ocean -Island, there were difficulties in the way. - -They were bold sea-rovers, brave to recklessness, seasoned to all -manner of tragedies—mutinies, wrecks, ‘cuttings out’ by savage -islanders, what not. But they were short of the wherewithal with which -to begin a campaign. They had neither cash nor credit,—proverbially -without the first requisite, while the second indispensable was -absolutely nil. - -Throughout the wide ocean world of the South Pacific there was, -however, one master mariner, owning the far-famed brig _Leonora_, and -a name to conjure with from New Zealand to the Line Islands. This was -the celebrated, perhaps more correctly termed notorious, William Henry -Hayston, the dreaded captain of the _Leonora_—the smartest vessel of -that strange fleet which the South Sea traffic bred and maintained. -Half-traders, half-slavers, or wholly privateers, on occasion equally -ready to play either part at a pinch, and wholly indifferent to flag, -or maritime law, if the pay or prize-money were but adequate to the -risk. It was freely asserted that there was _no adventure_ which this -‘pirate king’—so to speak—would not undertake on adequate -remuneration. Lawless, dangerous, even desperate he might be, but he -had rarely been known to fail when perfect seamanship, dauntless -courage, and contempt of all ordinary, even extraordinary, risks were -indispensable. And whatever contract he elected to accept, he always -commanded a crew fully prepared to stand by him to the death. - -Captain William Henry Hayston, formerly of the United States Navy, but -now unattached, owner and commander of the brig _Leonora_, may have -had misunderstandings, more or less serious, with Her Britannic -Majesty’s and other Governments in an earlier day, but if so, no one -apparently cared to remind him of such trifles. As he walked up the -principal thoroughfare with his supercargo, and first mate, a -half-caste, well known (and feared also) throughout the island world, -he did not give people the idea of a man to be lightly interfered -with. Not that there was anything suggestive of unlawful callings or -piratical ferocity about his manner or appearance. Perfectly dressed -and appointed after the naval fashion of the day, his air was serene, -his accent affable and courteous. Friends and acquaintances, official -and otherwise, were greeted with the free speech and ready smile which -had served him so well in many a close encounter with the myrmidons of -the law. - -Marching up to the Consulate of France, he presented himself to that -dread official, and transacted a short interview with easy assurance -and consummate policy; sympathised with the official view of some -later native troubles; and after mentioning Callao as the port he -thought would be probably his destination, gracefully made adieu, -leaving his interlocutor utterly in the dark as to his movements, his -business, or his intentions. - - * * * * * - -With a well-found steamer, hope in his heart, and joy irradiating his -every sense, Carteret on board the _Morana_ is now nearing -Honolulu—which, if the breeze holds fair, will be reached to-morrow -night. Here he is to meet Captain Hayston, of the _Leonora_, with whom -he has already arranged terms and conditions, and who has signified -his willingness to land a crew at Molokai, prepared to carry off the -arch-fiend himself, or the Governor of the Straits Settlements, always -provided that the sum mentioned between them should be ‘planked down,’ -and that the cost of any prosecution on behalf of the Crown be repaid -within a specified time. - -An unobtrusive entrance by the _Leonora_ had been made late at night, -and in the morning it was announced that Captain Hayston had once more -honoured their waters with his presence. The famous schooner had -slipped in and taken up her anchorage without aid from pilot or other -functionary, but she was no sooner discovered at dawnlight, placidly -reposing like a strange waterfowl in a pond among the ducks and geese -of a farmyard, amid the ships of all nations, than a distinct feeling -of unrest, not unaccompanied by apprehension, began to manifest -itself. - -‘Some darned villainy afloat, I guess,’ said a grizzled American -whaleman, ‘when William H. Hayston, master mariner, drops his anchor. -Sometimes it’s contraband o’ war—blackbirdin’—or smuggled opium—but -thar was always some game on hand afore he quit—which he did -sudden-like.’ - -‘Why, I thought they couldn’t bring anything agen him now?’ said one -of the _habitués_ of the bar and beach—‘anyhow he spends his money -free and pleasant—nothin’ mean ’bout _that_!’ - -‘Maybe yes! maybe no!’ quoth the man from ‘Martha’s Vineyard.’ -‘Anyhow, folks had better keep their eyes skinned, I reckon, as hev’ -anythin’ to lose, if it’s only an extry wife. He’s tarnation deep, and -so all-fired lucky, that old Nick himself’ll hev’ to mind his eye when -he passes in his checks.’ - -‘Pleased to meet you again, Captain Hayston,’ said Carteret. ‘I -thought you were likely to be punctual when a business appointment -like mine was on the cards. My name is Lytton Carteret.’ - -‘Sir, I duly received your letter with accompanying directions—trust -we shall do business in terms of your offer’; and here the light -glowed in his blue eyes like the sparkle in a fire opal. - -‘Much obliged, Captain! We have met before. I saw you in the Bay of -Islands in 18—. You were there when the crew of the _Jonathan Stubbs_ -mutinied, and threw the captain overboard.’ - -‘That is so, and we helped to arrest the darned villains, and send -them to Sydney for trial, where they were hanged in due form.’ - -‘Captain Hayston,’ said Carteret, ‘suppose we get to business. I’ve -heard many things about you, but I’m aware that you’re a man of your -word.’ Hayston nodded. ‘I place the fullest confidence in your -discretion. The affair, which I depend on your help to carry out, is, -I am aware, of delicate, not to say dangerous nature. I wish to get -away a friend of mine who is detained at Molokai.’ - -‘It’s against island law—means fine and imprisonment on conviction. -The damned place is closely watched. But it means yanking a soul out -of hell, and I’ll risk it, if we agree.’ - -‘And now, as to the terms?’ - -‘I must have a thousand pounds. Five hundred down, and the balance -when I land your friend at Norfolk Island. He can get a ship to any -port in Australia after that.’ - -‘Agreed! You shall have a draft on my Sydney agents, Towns and Co., -to-night; I can find an endorser here, before we leave, for the second -payment, which I shall have great pleasure in making.’ - -‘That’s the way I like to do business,’ said Hayston, ‘but if you’ll -give me the pleasure of your company to dinner this evening, on board -the _Leonora_, we can talk everything fully over, and fix up the best -way to carry this matter out.’ - -‘The arrangement will suit me very well. We shall be quite private, I -know; and there is much to be said and settled before the start.’ - -After making the round of the chief places of business in the town, -and posting letters of more or less importance, Carteret walked down -to the beach with Hayston, and was pulled out to the _Leonora_, -graceful craft that she was! They were received at the gangway in true -man-o’-war fashion, and as the Captain glanced round, with the quick, -trained eye of the seaman born to command, Carteret noted that every -man was at his place, and the vessel, generally, in exquisite order. -The crew, with few exceptions, were islanders, some were half-castes, -a few negroes, but all a muscular, daring, resolute lot—the discipline -had evidently been strict and unrelaxing. - -Going below, the stewards—one a light mulatto, the other a Japanese -dressed in his native costume—were apparently just preparing to bring -in the dinner. Carteret and the Captain entered a smaller cabin, under -a heavy gold-embroidered curtain. This cabin was used as a smoke-room -and private audience-chamber. The ornaments and curios suggested many -climes and not less desperate adventures. Pistols with silver -hilts—Malay krises—swords and daggers—evil-looking spears—South Sea -dresses were in evidence, in number almost sufficient to cover the -sides of the cabin. - -‘I suppose,’ said Carteret, ‘there are stories about some of these -weapons, Captain Hayston?’ - -‘Well! Yes! indeed—about nearly all of them,’ replied Hayston. ‘That -krise was nearly making an end of me. I was looking at another man, -when the devil of a Malay got close up in the _mêlée_—it was a pirate -junk affair—I was in the Navy of the United States then—(here he -sighed). The Malay had just killed a midshipman, poor boy! and was -fighting like ten devils, as all Malays do when they’re “amok,” when -a quartermaster cut him down, and the krise grazed my side. - -‘That old silver casket with two handles was full of Spanish doubloons -when I first came across it. It belonged to the captain of a slaver—a -fellow that had eluded us and the smartest frigates of the British -Navy. I was a youngster at the time, and thought the affair great -fun. The slaver captain was a Spaniard, accused of enormous -cruelties—throwing sick men overboard and all kinds of devilry. We -found prisoners chained in the hold, officers and passengers from a -merchant ship.’ - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -‘Their last prize,’ continued Hayston, ‘was a dreadful sight! Pah! I -can hardly bear to think of it now.’ As he spoke, his face darkened, -and a look of rage, concentrated, lurid, pitiless, passed over his -features, transforming their whole expression into that of a demon—an -avenging Azrael; his whole countenance suddenly passed from a state of -smiling, even fascinating courtesy, to that of murderous wrath—deadly, -implacable, consuming. - -‘They paid the penalty?’ said Carteret. - -‘Yes! They were triced up to the yard-arm—two and two—a trial was -dispensed with—Uncle Sam having passed a special ordinance with regard -to such cases. The sharks had gathered around after the first corpses -were dropped. It was a calm: they were torn in pieces almost as soon -as the breath was out of their bodies. That the sea which had been -crimsoned many a time with the blood of their innocent victims, should -now be stained with their own, was only just retribution. Too -merciful, of course; but we can’t go back to the methods of the Middle -Ages—more’s the pity! And now let us change the subject. “Land ho!” -as an old captain of mine in the West Indies used to say when he heard -the dinner bell.’ - -The melodious sound of a silver temple-gong announced the service of a -meal as perfect in its way as anything arranged on salt water can be. - -The wines, of the choicest French and Spanish vintages, were such as -few ‘Amphitryons où l’on dîne’ have the privilege of presenting to a -guest. The turtle soup would have tempted an alderman to change his -religion. But once previously had Carteret tasted such Madeira as -followed it. The fish, the prawn curry, the beautiful crested pigeons -of the islands, guinea-fowls in size, pheasants in delicacy of -flavour—without pursuing the detail, it may be assumed from Carteret’s -testimony, then and afterwards, that a jury of _gourmets_ would have -been hard set to decide in favour of any naval competing function of -the day. The dry champagne which followed the hock was of a known, -accredited _crû_, but did not tempt Carteret to do more than -reasonable justice to it. He had no intention of measuring strength of -brain against his entertainer; more particularly with a vitally -important stake on the cards. At a comparatively early hour he -discussed with Hayston the more binding terms of the agreement, and -argued them out, clause by clause, before they parted for the night. -Not wholly satisfied with the propriety of concluding the affair after -dinner, moderate as had been his potations, Carteret deferred the -signing and sealing of the final instrument till noon on the -following day. Which was at once agreed to. - -Captain Hayston, indeed, expressed his intention of sailing for -foreign parts on the morrow. Thus, if all preliminaries were completed -at mid-day, he would be free to lift anchor, and taking advantage of -the breeze off the land would initiate action. Doubtless he had -intelligence agents on whom he could rely—agents ‘steady of heart, and -stout of hand’ as ever served king or minister, and who dared not play -him false. When, therefore, the _Leonora_ shook out her topsails and -stood off the land, a point or two to the south of west, shaping a -course for the crimson afterglow of the fading sunset, there were ten -thousand of Carteret’s dollars in the double-handled casket of the -slaver Leon Gonzales, late master of the _Pedro Torero_—also in the -private escritoire an order for five hundred pounds, payable on demand -by the firm of Robert Towns and Co., Fort Street, Sydney, endorsed by -Oppenheimer Brothers, of Suva, Fiji. - -If the course was altered at midnight, and shaped to one which would -bring them close to Molokai, where the eventful dash and relief -expedition would be carried out, who was to be the wiser? - - * * * * * - -The night, for which they had watched for nearly a week, was almost a -calm—but overclouded, and dark as a wolf’s throat. The proverbial -hand, when held before the face, was invisible. - -The _Leonora_, miles away at nightfall, had glided closer to the land -and lay off and on. The dropping of an anchor near the forbidden shore -would, of course, have aroused suspicion. The crew, with Bill Hicks at -the steer oar, had been carefully chosen. The whale-boat, which, for -reasons of his own, the Captain of the _Leonora_ always had on board, -was reliable on any sea, and against any of the winds of heaven. The -crew was composed of Rotumah islanders, perhaps the best men—except -those of Norfolk Island—in rough water or wild gale that the South -Pacific breeds. They may have had a general idea of the nature of the -service in which they were engaged, but were merely told that they -were to pull quietly to the beach near a rocky point, where a post -stood in the sand, with a small lantern attached to it. There they -would see a man, wrapped in a cloak. As soon as the boat grounded, he -would walk towards them. They were to run to meet him, lifting him -carefully into the boat, as he had been ill. Then to pull their -d—dest. Bill Hicks would see to that; and the quicker they got back to -the brig the surer they would be of a tot of rum all round, and a -pound of tobacco. But, if they valued their skins, they were not to -come back without their passenger. It is not improbable that they were -aware of the object and circumstances of the secret service. But— - - Their’s not to make reply, - Their’s but to do and die. - -The crew of the _Leonora_ had, before now, been in affairs where -certain shipmates had lost the ‘number of their mess.’ Such experience -was nothing new to them. ‘It was all in the day’s work’—one man came -back safe and sound, the other ‘went to Davy Jones.’ - - * * * * * - -Nothing could have been more propitious: the silent, moonless night; -the sleeping ocean, dark, waveless—unillumined save by the -phosphorescence caused by a leaping fish—the sombre surface in Stygian -repose. The _Leonora_ had approached the dread island long after dark, -gradually getting closer by long ‘boards.’ For a while the low -rhythmic murmur of the unresting surge was the only sound which broke -the strange silence, almost oppressive in its completeness. Then, as -the boat left the ship’s side noiselessly, and, rowed with muffled -oars, approached the shallows of the beach, a weird confused lament, -as of wails, moans, and cries of pain, rose through the murky air. -Such was the outcome of periodical seizures, with torturing, -lancinating pains, which, towards the later hours of the night, occur -with dreadful regularity in advanced or hopeless cases. As they -increased in distinctness one might have observed a movement as of -shuddering fear among the crew, who peered eagerly through the gloom, -beyond which lay the dim white beach, with a fringe of plumy palms -beyond. Straining his eyes, the quartermaster in the bow observed dark -forms wandering, as it appeared to him, along the seashore. Their gait -was slow and faltering; with weak, tremulous steps they seemed as -though doubtful of their ability to reach the point from which to -survey the ocean—to look, if better was not to be had, upon the -highway to freedom, and that outer world, from which they had been -severed once and for ever. They might well have passed for a company -of gibbering ghosts on the bank of that dark Lethean stream where -earthly joys and sorrows cease. - -As the strange band neared the shore, the cries, the moaning, -unintelligible chorus seemed to deepen in intensity, and once a scream -as of agony unendurable rent the air. - -‘Hell’s gate open now, I guess,’ said Hicks; ‘and these are Old Nick’s -beach-combers sent to say, “How’d yer like to come to this afore yer -time’s up?”’ Here his voice altered at once. ‘Look out, you Maori -Jack! here’s our passenger.’ - -As he spoke, a tall man in a cloak dashed into the sea, and rushed -towards the boat, wading above the waist, and holding up his arms -beseechingly, while at the same time several of the others made as -though to prevent him leaving their party. With a hoarse cry the Maori -seized him, and almost lifting him up, dragged him into the boat, -while the bow oar descended on the skull of the leading pursuer, who -fell back, recovering himself with difficulty. There was no further -attempt at capture. ‘Give way, men!’ shouted Hicks; ‘pull for the brig -as if she was an eighty-barrel whale.’ - -The strange passenger sank down as if exhausted, and made no remark or -gesture. As the boat foamed up to the _Leonora’s_ side, a rope-ladder -was let down, up which he—helped by the Maori’s strong grasp—climbed -in safety. Once on the deck, he seemed to revive, and commenced to -thank the Captain effusively. But he declined converse. ‘You will find -refreshment in your cabin, señor! The steward will direct you. It will -be better to defer explanations until the morning. Manuel’ (this to -the mulatto), ‘see that this gentleman has all that he requires for -the night. Adios!’ - -‘Adios, indeed!’ thought the passenger, who had seen strange things in -strange countries, and had picked up Spanish in his wanderings. ‘I -feel bewildered for the present; I must clear my brain with sleep, if -possible; I have had little enough for the last fortnight.’ - -The breeze off the land by this time had slightly freshened. Sail was -made ‘alow and aloft,’ and as the wavelets commenced to strike and -fall off from her bows with increasing volume, the graceful _Leonora_ -swept smoothly yet rapidly on her course, at a rate of speed which, if -there had been pursuit, gave little chance of her being overhauled. - -What an awakening it was for Alister Lilburne when, after a night of -soundest sleep, he realised that he was many a league from that Isle -of the Lost!—was again free, safe, unhampered by rules and hateful -regulations such as are found necessary for semi-penal communities. - -The morning breeze, the roseate dawnlight, the lapping wave which -kissed his cabin-side, the sea-birds’ cry,—all these were separate and -distinct joys and sensations which he recognised with a thankfulness -too deep for words. When the Japanese steward shortly afterwards, -bowing with Oriental humility, proposed to conduct him to a bath-room, -and, at the same time, displayed a complete Spanish military uniform, -he began to feel once more a resemblance to the man that he used to -be, as also a newborn desire to learn how and by whom this change in -his affairs had been brought about. Change? Yes! the change from a -living grave—a hopeless, despairing existence—doomed to vegetate on -the accursed isle till death released him from a state of mental -torture all but unendurable. Weekly to witness the long-hoped-for, -prayed-for opening of the prison gate for a fellow-victim. But only by -the warder Death, or through a merciful alternative—the utter -dethronement of reason. - -The purifying process complete, and the costume of the hidalgo donned, -from which not even the sombrero, with sweeping feather, was absent, -his island garments were made into a bundle, loaded with a ringbolt, -and cast into the deep. His attendant then informed him that the -Captain hoped to have the pleasure of meeting Don Carlos Alvarez at -breakfast, at his convenience. Feeling partly like an actor in private -theatricals, partly like a man in a dream, he followed Manuel to the -smaller cuddy, where fruit and coffee, with a most appetising -breakfast, were already set forth. - -‘I have the honour to salute Don Carlos Alvarez, who has joined my -vessel at Santa Cruz and desires a passage to Norfolk Island. Is it -not so?’ said the Captain, speaking in Spanish, with formal and -impressive courtesy. - -‘A vuestro disposición, Señor Capitan!’ answered the passenger in the -same language. And, indeed, as he surveyed himself in one of the -mirrors which, in massive silver frames, ornamented the apartment, he -found it difficult to believe that he was not the haughty hidalgo with -whom the tales of the Spanish main had made all students familiar. - -‘I have to thank you,’ he continued, still speaking in more or less -pure Castilian, ‘for my life—for the recovery of my liberty, and all -things that men hold most dear. Believe me, I await only the time when -I may translate my feelings into deeds, to prove them true. But I -would further beg you to add to my obligation, heavy as it is, the -reasons for your thus interesting yourself in the affairs of a -stranger.’ - -‘That we have not met before, I am aware,’ answered Hayston. ‘My -action is not wholly disinterested, you may probably guess; still, a -man’s friends may intervene in his affairs—and to some purpose.’ - -‘Friends!’ said the stranger. ‘How many is an outcast likely to -have—outcast of God and man—may He pardon me for the thought!—in that -Gehenna from which your skill and courage have rescued me? And if -there be, by a miracle, so much as one left to him, who once had many, -what power can he have had?’ - -‘The power of the golden key,’ said the sea-rover, looking around, as -he spoke, upon wave and sky, as the freshening breeze sent the gay -bark on her course with increased speed. ‘With a magic force in the -background, weather like this, and such a water-witch as the _Leonora_ -under his foot, why should you, should any man, despair? Exile, -sickness, wounds—losses, shipwreck, imprisonment,—everything but the -rope or the axe, which ends all things, have fallen to my lot. But I -never lowered my flag, and see where it flaunts in the breeze now! -Bah! the Spaniard’s solace is the guitar; I must send for mine, and -sing you one of my favourites,’ and here he trolled out the opening -verse of ‘Yo soy contrabandista!’ ‘Gad! how the muleteers and -smugglers of the Pyrenees used to dance and yell to the music! The -very thought makes me young again.’ Here he sprang forward, raising -his lofty head with a gesture of defiance, as if claiming to be the -master of his own destiny, and daring a world in arms to subdue his -will or shape his course in life. His eyes glowed with the light of -battle—his upper lip curved in scorn—his vast frame seemed to grow in -form and stature, as he stood there, towering above his companion, and -presenting the contrast of a mediæval mail-clad knight alike to squire -and pages as to the leathern-jerkined yeomen of the ranks. - -The passenger looked on him with eyes of admiration, as he stood, -grand in the possession of unmatched strength—flushed with the triumph -of successful enterprise, and glorying in his daring—the daring which -had, so many a time and oft, carried him through perils and desperate -encounters, to which this last one was but child’s play. - -‘And now,’ said Hayston, taking the passenger’s arm, ‘let us walk the -deck, while I tell you how I became possessed of your history, and was -persuaded to mix myself up in your affairs. Can you call to memory the -name of a friend who would be likely to be reckless of money and time -spent in effecting your release?’ - -‘Of course—there is Lytton Carteret—my wife’s cousin—sincerely -attached to her, and an early friend of mine—but I have not heard of -him for years. He was said to have been travelling in the East.’ - -‘That is so. He informed me that he had nearly reached Lhassa, but had -been turned back by a guard of Thibetan soldiers.’ - -‘Then he has returned? And where is he now?’ - -‘He is awaiting the return of the brig _Leonora_ at Apia harbour, -where he hopes to meet Don Alvarez—now on his travels in the South -Pacific.’ - -‘Then he knows of my having left——?’ - -‘Nukuheva, let us say—rather a fashionable resort just now—Lord -Pembroke and a friend were staying there for some months lately.’ - -‘A light breaks in on me. Of course I could hear nothing in that -inferno, out of the world and the world’s life. Do I guess aright that -it was he that——?’ - -‘Yes! Señor Alvarez; it was he that engineered this little _coup_ of -ours. He had made a _pasear_ to Easter Island, where he happened on -William H. Hayston, master mariner—whom he met once at the Hokianga, -New Zealand—and it came into his head that he might take a hand in -this deal. Dollars, of course, were necessary, and he planked down -handsomely. Made money in some place in West Australia, I think.’ - -‘But, Captain Hayston, it is my _right_ to pay everything which this -affair has cost. I shall have funds when I arrive in England. My -credit, indeed, is good at this moment in Lombard Street—I insist——’ - -‘In this charter party, I only know Lytton Carteret, and must decline -to mix up business with Señor Carlos Alvarez, or any friend or -relative. It can be settled with him only after I fulfil my contract; -but, until then, I must decline—much as it grieves me—to consider you -in any other capacity than as my _passenger_. From that time forward -we shall be friends, I trust?’ - -‘Have it your own way, Captain Hayston,’ said Lilburne, inwardly -smiling at the idea of the buccaneer, as he was often held to be, -being scrupulous about extra payment for service rendered. ‘In all -other respects I shall always regard you as a friend in need, to be -trusted in fair weather or foul, to my life’s end.’ Here he grasped -the Captain’s sinewy hand, and shook it with a fervour commensurate -with the importance of the occasion. - -‘Buon amigo—malo adversario,’ replied Hayston. ‘We shall be unlikely -to meet again; though, but for hard luck, and the mystery of fate, -you and I, and your friend—a man whom I honour and respect from the -bottom of my heart—might have been comrades to our lives’ end.’ - -‘And why not now? Surely it is not too late—why not change your -career? Why not uproot the ties and habits of early youth—atone for -the mistakes—crimes, if you will—of a reckless manhood?—retrace the -downward path—repent in sackcloth and ashes—a white sheet, if you -like.’ - -‘Fancy “Bully” Hayston in a white sheet!’ The absurdity of the -situation seemed to strike him, and he laughed till the tears came -into his eyes. ‘No,’ and a sad, stern look came over his changeful -brow—‘what says Byron, whom I used to read in my youth? - - ‘In fierce extremes—in good and ill. - But still we love even in our rage, - And haunted to our very age - With the vain shadow of the past, - As is Mazeppa to the last!’ - - * * * * * - -Once more the course was changed—another forty-eight hours would bring -the _Leonora_ to Apia harbour. Here the erstwhile Spanish Don would -be landed. The identification of Alister Lilburne with the -Spanish-speaking, Spanish-garmented Alvarez would be difficult, if not -impossible. - -All that the crew—discreet of their kind—knew, or could testify to, -was, that a Spanish-speaking individual had been on board their vessel -for a few weeks, and had left them at Norfolk Island. They had heard -that he had come from Sydney, and was going back as soon as he could -get a ship. Had he come from Molokai? They did not know. In fact, the -four Rotumah men had been carefully prevented from showing themselves -on shore, and the rest of the crew had been _advised_ by Bill Hicks to -recognise no one, and to notice nothing outside of the ordinary cruise -of their voyage. They had shipped a cargo of copra at Ponapé, and -declined to answer any questions save such as related to island -produce. - - * * * * * - -Carteret was always reticent as to the route by which he and Lilburne -made their way to West Australia—landing at Albany from a German -cargo-boat, and parting at Perth. It was discovered after Lilburne had -been on board the _Leonora_, that the white mark, more or less -circular, on account of which he might so easily have lost his life, -as well as his liberty, had no more to do with leprosy than with -scarlet fever. It was simply the remains of a cicatrice, resulting -from an Arab spear-wound received in one of his desert wanderings in -early life. The skin had contracted, after the healing process was -complete, and, as often happens, had lost its original colour and -shape. Hayston himself—who had taken a medical course in his -University days, and was no mean practitioner in the department of -wounds, and surgical matters generally—after a minute examination -pronounced it to be free from the remotest likeness to the earlier -stages of the disease. Not satisfied with this, he called a -quartermaster, who had lived on every island in the South Pacific, and -had acquired a reputation as a successful medicine-man among the -sailors and beach-combers. - -‘Take a look at Don Carlos Alvarez here, Ben!’ said Hayston. ‘What -d’ye make of it? Any Molokai business about it?’ - -‘No more than there is about this, Captain!’—pointing to a scar upon -his brawny chest, right in the centre of a tattooed mermaid’s bosom, -that marine enchantress being represented as smiling seductively upon -a shipwrecked mariner. ‘That was a touch I got at the Navigators, when -the natives nearly cut us off—a close thing it was, Captain. But it -healed up wonderful—and there it is—white enough too. I suppose those -cranks at Tahiti would have boxed me up with the other poor devils if -I hadn’t taken French leave—in a native canoe. But I gave ’em leg-bail -for it, and here I am to-day, as sound as a roach, and as good an A.B. -as there is in the fleet.’ - -‘That will do, Ben, I am satisfied; you have been two years in the -_Leonora_, so your case is proved, at any rate. The fact is, señor, -that there was such a scare about the disease when first the native -Councils at Honolulu began to legislate, that they went to the other -extreme in suspected cases; thinking it better that a few should be -wrongfully imprisoned than that infection should run riot over the -whole island. To this day, however, medical men are not agreed on the -subject of contagion.’ - -Of course Mrs. Lilburne had been advised by letter from time to time -of the possibility of her husband’s release. What such hope and -expectation meant to these hardly entreated lovers may be imagined. In -her case, she was supported by an unshaken faith in the goodness of -God. The belief in which she had been reared had for years furnished -her with support and consolation, even in a state of exile, -loneliness, and comparative poverty. Was it for her to doubt that He -would make a way for her to escape from that lamentable position, when -it pleased Him to put a period to her misery? If she was wretched, -lonely, forsaken, placed by fate among the sick and the dying, was it -for her to repine—to despair? Day by day she saw the strong perish -before her eyes—the young and fair—the hopeful and the indifferent. -The terrible fever of camps and crowds spared neither age nor sex. Who -was she, that she should be specially protected? Rather ought she to -be thankful that she was in a position to help the helpless, to -succour the dying, to cheer the terrified soul, on the verge of ‘the -undiscovered country,’ with the vision of a serene and glorified -hereafter. - -So she possessed her soul in patience, finding in unrelaxing, even -more zealous devotion to her duties that relief from painful thought -which ever accompanies conscientious adherence to duty. In vain her -friends adjured her not to neglect her own health. She persisted in -‘working herself to death,’ as they averred, to the last day—when she -went off, carrying the blessings and prayers of the whole community -with her. The German boat would be at Perth on an appointed day, when -she trusted to coach and train service to enable her to meet her -long-lost, despaired-of husband. Over his transports, her tears and -sobs of joy when she rushed into the arms of the lover of her youth, -the husband of her choice—raised, as she felt, from the dead—saved, -too, from a death of lingering agony, of gradual, yes! loathsome, -offensive decay, we may not dwell. - -Of their feelings, on an occasion so rare, so unique, in fact, as -their reunion under uncommon, even improbable circumstances, only -those who have experienced partings—absences—even remotely resembling -them, may faintly conceive: the almost incredible change from the dark -despair, which invaded every waking moment, which robbed sleep of its -healing power—all existence of its zest and flavour, while only the -faintest glimmer of hope appeared in life’s dungeon to warn off the -man from suicide, the woman from that negative existence which would -have invited the fell disease among the victims of which she -ministered daily, nightly. How many instances had she witnessed among -the early workers of the goldfields! Some were unsuccessful at the -first onset. Fortune eluded them. Hope deserted the unstable -worker—the impoverished wife: the next stage was a pallet in the -crowded hospital, all too soon to be followed by the requiem dirge and -the funeral train. The environment was depressing, but, encircled by -sickness, oft-times alone with death at the midnight hour, no terrors -ever caused Elinor Lilburne to swerve for one moment from the -undoubting faith of her youth, or to shake her trust in God. ‘Though -He slay me, yet will I trust in Him,’ had been a light to her path. -And now the Supreme Ruler of events had manifested His loving mercy, -in redeeming both body and soul, and preserving husband and wife for -a newer Eden, and the enjoyment of their immortal love. - -At the first discussion of ways and means, Lilburne was in favour of -at once returning to England, of taking up their old life among -friends and relatives. Somewhat to his surprise his wife gently, but -no less firmly, dissented from the plan. - -‘No, Alister,’ she said; ‘it would be ungrateful, ungenerous even, to -quit hurriedly a spot where I have been sheltered, welcomed, and -provided for; where I have found friends in the hour of need, nobly -sympathetic in their treatment of a stranger. Nowhere could I have met -with greater kindness, or assistance more delicately offered.’ - -‘But surely a mining camp, as I understand this Pilot Mount, or -whatever it is called, must necessarily be a rude, uncivilised place.’ - -‘You must not say that, Alister, unless you wish to hurt my feelings. -In the first place, it is now a city, with a population of sixty -thousand people, employed in mines which have paid a million and a -half sterling in dividends within the last few years—besides having as -inhabitants a larger proportion of high-minded, accomplished, and, in -a sense, distinguished people, than many places in the old country, of -greater size and apparent importance.’ - -Her husband took her hand, and smiled indulgently. ‘Indeed!’ he -answered, ‘I was not aware that I was on delicate ground. I ought to -have made allowance for colonial experience. Isn’t that what they call -it? And they must have been people of superior merit, to have -appreciated my darling during the years of exile. I feel impatient to -make their acquaintance.’ - -‘It will not be difficult to do that; only you mustn’t run away with -the idea that the inhabitants are all alike, and have no degrees of -social rank. However, you will see when we arrive. I should not be -surprised if you found goldfields life less disagreeable than you -expected.’ - -‘But you don’t ask me to stay there?’ - -‘You shall do exactly as you wish. Have I not always been an obedient -wife? But I wish to make you acquainted with a strange and unfamiliar -phase of colonisation, closely bearing on the well-being of the -Empire, about which I know you are an enthusiast.’ - -‘It is an order—as they say in India. When shall we start?’ - -‘Not before next week. I am not going to hurry you off. I have a -fortnight’s leave of absence, which we must spend at Perth Water. Then -I return to my post, to leave everything in order, and say good-bye to -my patients. Dear souls! what should I have done without them—or some -of them without _me_—I am proud to say.’ - - * * * * * - -When it was bruited abroad throughout Pilot Mount, and to the West -Australian world at large, that Nurse Lilburne had gone to Perth to -meet her husband—_had_ indeed met him on the incoming _Carl Schiller_, -and was returning to resume her position at the Pilot Mount -hospital,—also, after putting everything straight, to give up her -appointment, and probably ‘go home,’ great was the excitement, general -the regrets, sincere indeed the sorrow which was openly displayed by -her more intimate friends and fellow-workers. Never would they get -such another Matron—so wise, so tender, yet so firm, and clever too as -an organiser. She had redeemed their hospital from comparative -confusion and chaos; now it was as well managed as any of the -metropolitan ones. The Health Officer, the Inspector General, the -great doctor M‘Diarmid, _every one_, had said so. And now, when it was -the pride and joy of ‘the field,’ here was her husband turning up from -nobody knew where, and, of course, to take her away with him. It was -most discouraging. - -As for the local press—a journalistic flood of wonder and admiration, -congratulation and grief, poured over the bars and lodging-houses, the -hotel parlours, the stores—the churches even, and flowed and surged, -and eddied, throughout the wide regions of ‘the field’ and its -dependencies. The name and fame of Nurse Lilburne, the modern revival -of the ‘lady with the lamp,’ had spread far and wide. The -fever-stricken miner, the inexperienced tourist, the youthful -governess, the toil-encumbered matron, all owned to deep debts of -gratitude, all joined in a chorus of congratulation and heartfelt -thanksgiving. ‘Heaven had had mercy,’ said the devout. ‘It is the -Lord’s doing.’ ‘First man ever I knowed to come back from where _he’s_ -been,’ said South Sea Jack. - -It had not generally transpired, nor had it been thought necessary to -advertise the fact of his detention at so evil-reputed a locality. It -was generally supposed that pecuniary losses had resulted in his -trying to redeem his fortunes in South America, whence he had now -returned, having at length fallen upon a ‘bonanza’ in silver. The -environments of the country not being favourable to the habitudes of a -refined Englishwoman, it had been decided that she should make a home -in Western Australia. - -She had formerly elected to take the work temporarily, as the member -of a nursing sisterhood; and coming to Pilot Mount in the worst period -of an epidemic of typhoid and pneumonia, she had accepted the position -of Matron in the newly organised hospital, partly from motives of -Christian charity, but chiefly as a means of allaying the torturing -anxiety which afflicted every waking hour, and, at times, denied her -even necessary sleep. - -When it was known, indeed promulgated by the press, that Nurse -Lilburne, the devoted, the beloved, the Angel of the Lord (as the -Cornish Wesleyans called her), had in the dark hours of fever watched -by the bedside of so many a ‘Cousin Jack,’ and (as was believed) had -restored the father or husband to the weeping wife and babes, the -enthusiasm thus aroused seemed boundless, uncontrollable. - -That she should permanently leave ‘the field’ was too sorrowful for -words—a public calamity, a disaster. Still, if man and wife had come -together after years of separation, who would be mean enough to put -their loss in the scale against the crowning joy of her happiness? - -The situation was not new to them. Many a miner’s family, in humbler -life, had gone through the same experience. How often had they clubbed -together to help to build and furnish the modest cottage, in which the -long-separated man and wife could again set up the altar of domestic -life, and reinstate the household gods! But in this case it appeared -to the leaders—the representative men of the city and the mining -community—that an effort should be made to render the recognition of -the benefits derived from Mrs. Lilburne’s devoted, unselfish labours, -worthy of the great principle which she represented: of the invaluable -services which she had rendered to all the classes of the community, -‘without fear, favour, or affection,’ making no distinction between -rich and poor—the lowly and those of exalted station. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -The probable day of their arrival had been telegraphed from Perth, -duly noted and published by the local press. Furthermore, later -intelligence from the last stopping-place had been supplied, so that, -when, at mid-day, the Perth express steamed into the Pilot Mount -platform, there was the largest crowd collected there since the -official turning-on of the main of the Great Aqueduct by the Premier -of West Australia. - -‘This seems a busy place,’ said Alister Lilburne, as he marked the -crowded platform, the equipages great and small, mounted and foot -police, ordinary miners in hundreds, besides others who walked in -procession, and carried flags—not to mention a camel train, with -turbaned Afghan drivers, standing patiently on the outer edge of the -assemblage. ‘Is this an everyday gathering, or is there any person of -distinction expected? What a number of nurses, in uniform too! Ha! a -light breaks in on me. Is it—surely not to greet you on your return?’ - -‘I am afraid that all this fuss is about your wife, and no one else, -my dear Alister,’ she answered, not without perturbation. ‘I expected -some kind of greeting, but nothing on so large a scale. Yes! it must -be so. Here comes my good friend the Mayor—with the Councillors in -their robes too. I suppose we must face it. Gore Chesterfield too, -Mr. Southwater, old Jack. I see my friends have “rolled up,” as we say -here. I am afraid I shall break down.’ - -‘My future rank and position are now irrevocably decided,’ said he; ‘I -shall go down to posterity as Mrs. Lilburne’s husband. Very proud of -the title, I assure you. Wish for nothing better—only, if only -_they_—well! it can’t be helped.’ - -‘Do you miss any one, Alister?’ she asked, looking anxiously in his -face. - -‘Only two faces, darling! If only Carteret and Hayston were present, -what a tone it would have given to the whole thing!’ - -‘Poor Lytton, how he would have revelled in it! As for the bold -sea-rover, I shall always pray for him. But perhaps he is safer (and -others too) on board that dear _Leonora_. Now for the serious business -of the day. Mind you recognise it as such!’ - -The band struck up the National Air as the Mayor in his robes advanced -with dignity, and, bowing respectfully, shook hands with Mrs. Lilburne -and congratulated her warmly, greeting also her husband, who was -introduced formally to them. His Worship then stood up, and begged to -express briefly the pleasure which it afforded him, and the members -of the Pilot Mount Municipal Council, to welcome back a lady to whom, -speaking in their name, and as representing the miners of the field, -the citizens, and the inhabitants generally, they felt they owed so -deep a debt of gratitude (here he paused for a moment, to afford -opportunity for a burst of cheering—loud, hearty, and protracted), for -her services—valuable—he might say, invaluable, such as they would -never forget as long as there was an ounce of gold left in the field, -or in West Australia! Here the cheering was long—so protracted that -the Mayor held up his hand, and, motioning for silence, concluded his -remarks by inviting Mr. and Mrs. Lilburne to a banquet at the Town -Hall. - -A carriage with four greys was in attendance, into which, in company -with the Mayor and Mayoress, the distinguished visitors were handed, -and driven to the Town Hall. Arrived at this imposing structure, they -were ushered into the Great Hall, where tables had been laid for -apparently about a thousand people. On the right hand of the Mayor sat -the guest of the day, with the Warden of the Goldfield—a dread and -awful potentate, having power of life and death (financially)—beside -her; the Lady Mayoress on the left hand of her lord and master -(ancient figure of speech now chiefly obsolete). Next to her sat a -lately elected Councillor, who was a representative citizen in several -departments of industrial and social development, and might be trusted -to find her ladyship in light and airy converse. On either side, as -well as at the end of the long table, sat leading mine managers, -‘golden hole men,’ and mercantile representatives, with, of course, -their wives and daughters. In prominent positions were distinguished -visitors and tourists, such as General Sir Walter and Lady Cameron, -the Honourable Denzil Southwater, Sir John and Lady Woods, and other -notables of rank and fashion. With the exception of the memorable -gathering when the Great Aqueduct discharged its first bounteous, -providential flow, no such gathering had ever been witnessed at Pilot -Mount. Full justice having been done to the repast, and the healths of -the King and Queen heartily and loyally, if briefly, responded to, the -Mayor called upon all present to charge their glasses, as he was about -to propose the health of the guest of the day—he might say, the -heroine of the hour—Mrs. Lilburne. If he gave her the title of Nurse -Lilburne, by which she had been known so favourably to the population -of the city, and the goldfields generally, perhaps he would be better -understood. That burst of cheering, straight from the heart, showed -how miners and workers of all classes recognised their true friends, -of whatever class or occupation. He had taken the liberty of -describing that lady as a heroine. There had been heroines in the -history of our Motherland, who had stood upon the battlefield, -ministering to the wants of the wounded and the dying, unmoved by -feelings of personal danger; heroines who had dared the risks of -plague, pestilence, and famine, with unshaken courage and faith in an -all-seeing Providence; heroines who had donned armour; heroines who -had dared hurricanes or shipwreck, calmly pursuing their ministrations -until the ‘whelming wave’ ended the tragedy; but none of these -exemplars of womanhood, whether ancient or modern, exceeded in lustre -the self-devoted attendant upon the feeble, the stricken, the sick, -and the dying, who patiently—at all hours, in all seasons—fought the -dread epidemic which had ravaged their city in its earlier days. It -had slain a large proportion of the pioneers. Young and old, gentle -and simple, tenderly or rudely reared, there had been but little -difference in the death-roll. Thank God! the plague had been stayed. -Their city was now as free from it and other diseases as the leading -metropolitan towns. But they owed it not alone to their excellent -medical staff, not to improved sanitation, but, under Heaven, to the -nursing staff—among whom the earliest, the most capable, the most -unwearied, the most successful in wresting patients from the very jaws -of death, was their distinguished—he might say, their illustrious -guest, to honour whom they were met that day. He gave them the health -of Mrs. Alister Lilburne, more widely known, perhaps more loved and -honoured, as ‘Nurse Lilburne.’ - -Long, loud, protracted indeed were the responses of the guests. -Heterogeneous as was the assembly, but one feeling—that of deepest -gratitude, of heartfelt respect—seemed to actuate the great gathering. -When at length Mrs. Lilburne stood up in her place, and the Mayor -requested silence, it was wonderful how suddenly all sound and motion -ceased. - -She wore her simple nurse’s uniform. ‘This,’ she told her husband, ‘is -the dress in which I worked, the dress in which I earned the gratitude -of these people—out of respect to them, and the sisterhood who worked -with me so loyally, I prefer to wear it to the end of the ceremony.’ - -As she stood there, outwardly calm and collected—although naturally -roused to an unwonted state of exaltation by the electrical atmosphere -of the assemblage—she spoke the first few words in a comparatively low -tone, vibrating though they were with deep feeling and suppressed -emotion; but as she became more fully pervaded by the unusual nature -of the situation, and the exceptional circumstances under which the -acquaintance—the friendship even, with so many now present had arisen, -the colour came to her cheek, the dark eyes glowed with a fire none -had recollected to have seen before, and with head erect, and fearless -mien, she appeared to the excited crowd not only a beautiful woman—as -she had always been considered—but as an inspired prophetess, dealing -with questions not only of the life here, but of that beyond the -grave. Adverting to the formation of the Pilot Mount hospital, and its -humble inception by the committee of energetic, liberal-minded -men—nearly all of whom she was glad to see here to-day—she -congratulated the ladies and gentlemen present on the generous -response made to the first appeal for subscriptions. Money flowed in, -not only from the city, but from distant camps and ‘rushes.’ Rude -though the first building was, and humble the couches and pallets, the -essentials of careful nursing and skilled medical aid were there. -Crowds of patients taxed all their energy, but they were helped and -encouraged by the medical staff, then and now self-denying, and -generous, she might say munificent, in personal outlay—in giving -freely of their time and skill. Every one helped, from his Worship, -the Mayor, to the humblest tradesman. Progress was made—a large -proportion of cures was effected. Gradually, medicines, scientific -appliances and inventions were provided. And now what did they see? A -noble building with an efficient staff, a decreasing death-rate—an -institution comparing favourably with those of the metropolis, of her -connection with which she would be proud to the last day of her life. -With a parting word she would say farewell to Pilot Mount and the -friends she had made there—friends of all classes—some of whom she had -been privileged to help in the hour of need. Not only for this -magnificent recognition of her humble work, but for the unaffected -respect and sympathy which had been accorded to her since her first -arrival as a stranger in the field, was she deeply, sincerely -grateful. It would be among her most cherished memories, and would -remain with her to the last day of her life. She could not conclude -without a reference to not the least important feature of hospital -duties and experiences, in which she had been enabled by reason of her -opportunities to say a word in season of a wholly unsectarian nature -to those to whose bodily health it was her duty to minister. In the -hour of death, almost within view of the Day of Judgment, surely it -was appropriate to suggest repentance, to enjoin prayer! She respected -the creeds under which all had been reared. No minister of religion -had disapproved of her action, and she would now adjure those who, -like herself, had felt the dread presence of the Shadow of Death, to -recall the resolutions, the vows they had then made, and to act up to -them for the rest of their lives. She would be here for a few weeks -more; after her departure they would most probably not set eyes upon -her in this world again; but she would never forget her friends of -Pilot Mount, and would trust that her memory would always be -associated with words and deeds worthy of their mutual esteem. - -The Warden of Goldfields, ‘rising in his place,’ begged leave of his -Worship the Mayor to speak briefly to the toast they had lately -honoured. From his necessarily extensive official knowledge of the -miners on this field, he could assert that many of them believed that -their lives had been saved by Mrs. Lilburne’s skill and devotion to -duty. The Chief Commissioner of Police was convinced that her advice -and personal influence had prevented one serious riot, and had -exercised more weight on the side of law and order than half the force -under his command. - - * * * * * - -‘Now, my dear Alister,’ said Elinor Lilburne, when, the function being -concluded, they had been deposited safely at their hotel, after a -spirited progress through an excited crowd, which might well have -confused a less experienced driver, ‘how about the “necessarily rough, -uncivilised inhabitants of a mining camp”?’ - -‘I apologise humbly for my presumption in offering an opinion founded -upon ignorance the most dense, combined with prejudice the most -childish. I shall submit all future statements to my “guide, -philosopher, and friend.” For the attainment of sound, practical -common-sense—combined with perfect manners—I shall always recommend -(as I once did hear an English squire of my own county do seriously to -a friend’s son and daughter) a year’s travel in Australia.’ - -‘Now, you are _too_ penitent; I don’t want that; but you will -acknowledge that you have learned a lesson!’ - -‘Lesson! I have gained an experience which I trust to profit by to my -life’s end. And now, when are we to have this drive to the real Pilot -Mount, which I heard you arranging with that good-looking young -fellow? May I venture to risk the assertion that _he_ is English?’ - -‘You are right there, or nearly so—he is a Scot—the Honourable Denzil -Southwater—youngest son of the Earl of Southwater—and a very fine -fellow he is. He is thinking of leading an exploring expedition across -the desert—where he may find gold, or the other thing.’ - -‘What other thing?’ asked Lilburne. - -‘A death in the Waste,’ replied his wife sadly. ‘It is a gamble with -the King of Terrors. _He_ won in a late encounter. Two brothers—sons -of the soil—trained bushmen too, left their bones on the same track -last year.’ - -‘Killed by the blacks, I suppose?’ - -‘No! They went off the recognised trail, believing that they would -find water, but were deceived. They left a letter written just before -delirium set in—with farewells to their kin. Their bones were found by -the next exploring party.’ - -‘There are blanks, it appears, as well as prizes—though, after your -banquet, it is hard to believe in anything but general prosperity. -Fortune of war, of course, and so on.’ - - * * * * * - -Five o’clock in the afternoon was the hour named, and, faithful to his -engagement, Mr. Southwater drove up to the door of the Palace Hotel, -with a pair of well-groomed, efficient-looking horses and a -double-seated American buggy. This, it may be mentioned, is the -accepted vehicle for business, or pleasure, on all goldfields, -pastoral stations, and, indeed, throughout Australia generally—when -fashionable metropolitan form is not imperative. If the load be heavy, -the American waggonette is employed—which combines the lightness and -toughness of the buggy with a weight-carrying capacity unknown to any -ordinary vehicle of British origin. The practical advantages of this -carriage were enhanced by the addition of a collapsible hood of white -canvas, a protection equally from sun, wind, or rain; thus combining -lightness, and a cool appearance, with efficiency. Mr. Southwater had -been asked to bring a lady with him, to make the party even, as well -as to provide agreeable society for Mr. Lilburne, while his wife sat -in the front seat, and conversed with him as driver. - -‘Whom would you like, Mrs. Lilburne?’ - -‘Oh, I leave that to your taste and discretion. You know everybody in -Pilot Mount, as well as in Perth, I believe.’ - -‘If Mrs. Wharton has returned from Perth, she would be the ideal -fourth. If not, one of the Harley girls, or Jean White.’ - -‘You accept the responsibility, mind; I won’t interfere.’ - -As it turned out, Mrs. Wharton was still in Perth, and the Harleys had -gone to Adelaide. So when they drove up to a house in the suburbs, -surrounded by an unusually well-kept garden, and half-covered with a -purple flowering tacsonia, a tall and beautiful girl, very well -dressed, walked forth, and was introduced as Miss Jean White. -Mrs. Lilburne’s face became expressive. - -‘Oh, I see! No one else but the “Fair Maid of Perth” to be found—what -a search you must have made. However, I trust you will be as -successful in another quest one of these fine days. You have my best -wishes, at any rate.’ - -‘I feel sure of that, Mrs. Lilburne, or I shouldn’t be here now, -should I?’ - -‘I suppose you mean that trifling affair after the skirmish of Pilot -Mount.’ - -‘Not at all. Much more serious—the fever I brought with me from Salt -Lake. I don’t easily give up, yet I really thought I was gone then. -But I see your husband and Miss Jean are getting on quite nicely, and -old Hotspur is beginning to paw the ground preparatory to rearing. We -had better start.’ - -One touch—a mere hint from the rein, and away go the fast, impatient -pair. The road is smooth, sandy, and just sufficiently firm to make -the going perfect; no trees to speak of, a dead level for many a mile, -with a faint blue range of hills on the farthest horizon. There had -been a shower or two—the dust was minimised. - -The low sun brought with it the promise of a graduated coolness, -operating until midnight. The conditions of travel were perfect. As -the light vehicle, behind the pick of the city harness pairs, swept -smoothly on, the sensation was, in its way, pleasurably exciting; the -feeling of vast, almost illimitable space—the dry, warm air—the -absence of sound or movement other than the slight disturbance caused -by the quick hoof-beats and faint whirring of their own wheels, which -seemed like a rash intrusion into a vast, hostile, formless region. -For a short time conversation had ceased—simultaneously. Miss White -was gazing dreamily into the ultimate west, where the cloud scheme had -resolved itself into a vast sheet of crimson and gold, deepening at -the edges to orange, with gradually intruding blends of lake, pale -green and violet. - -‘A penny for your thoughts, Jean,’ said Mrs. Lilburne. ‘And suppose we -make it binding on all four of us. We seem to have been suddenly -stricken dumb. I wonder what the occult influence could have been? -Miss White is to speak first.’ - -‘I was thinking,’ said the girl, ‘of the strangeness of life here. -Civilisation on one hand, with books, music, London fashions, art -novelties, scarcely a month old—all the great world’s great events -published at breakfast time from day to day. On the other hand, to -quote dear Sir Walter, “a sun-scorched desert, brown and bare”—and -here come the camels to fill in the picture!’ As she spoke, a long -train wound round the edge of a line of hillocks—their leader, with -turbaned attendants, adding the Eastern tone and flavour to the -apparition from the underworld. - -‘Thanks very much,’ said Mrs. Lilburne. ‘You are evidently destined to -make a name in literature, when you elect to traverse that thorny -path. What is to be the title?—for a book it must be within the year! -Write while the “impulse” is fresh and unquestioned. Now for a -title—_The Yellow Slave_, or _Western Whispers_, by “Winifred.”’ - -‘You are making me blush,’ said the girl. ‘Who said I ever wrote? If -it were any other person I should call it unkind.’ - -‘My dearest Jean, you are convicting yourself out of your own mouth. I -did not say that you _had_ written, but that with your poetic tastes -and strong turn for idealising our everyday life, you would be certain -to write in the future. Not that I should care for your becoming a -“writing woman.”’ - -‘Now you are disrespectful to authors. Why should I not write? I might -give the English cousins a clearer insight into our lives, about -which, it seems to me, they are so strangely ignorant.’ - -‘All in good time, my dear! You were intended by Nature for something -much better than to write books for idle people to read. What do you -think, Mr. Southwater?’ - -‘Quite agree with Mrs. Lilburne,’ said the young man, looking upon the -lovely _ingénue_ with such manifest admiration that she turned to -Lilburne, and playfully besought his aid against her opponents. - -‘Miss White is perfectly within her rights in extracting intellectual -pleasure from the scant materials which lie around her. She is making -the world at large her debtor by doing so. On the other hand, is the -game worth the candle? Think of the careworn expression, the harassed -nerves, the premature departure of youth—that divine if ephemeral -gift. And all for what? For the sake of a book which half the world -don’t understand, and the other half dislike.’ - -‘But think of the pleasure of being successful—really successful! What -a glorious privilege! And such a joy while one is writing! I think I -should die with ecstasy over a real triumph.’ - -‘Trust me—believe me, my dear Miss White, I have known writers, -successful ones, too, of both sexes, and they were mostly -disillusioned, if not disappointed. No, my dear young lady, the kind -gods have blessed you with the chief treasures of this mortal -life—health, youth, warm friends, and, I might say, the highest -endowment of all. Tempt not the jealous goddess.’ - -‘All this is very fine, and, no doubt, elevating,’ interposed -Mrs. Lilburne; ‘but suppose we revert to the practical. Here we are at -Pilot Hill, a place where romance has been acted—not merely written -about, as Mr. Southwater, quite among friends, might tell us if he -would.’ - -‘Nothing much to tell,’ said that young man, who, like all men of true -heroic mould, hated talking about his deeds of valour. ‘Only a quick -thing, soon over. Casualties few. Enemy routed with loss.’ - -‘What a shabby account of a real affair of outposts. Here’s Jean dying -to hear about it. You _were_ wounded, you know, or was it Lord -Newstead? We can’t let you off. Support me, Jean, love! Look at her, -Mr. Southwater.’ - -The girl, who had been gazing at Southwater with a world of interest, -admiration, and pained sympathy in her beautiful eyes, dropped them at -this appeal, and could only murmur pleadingly, ‘Please do.’ - -The young fellow was but a man. Thus adjured he would have been more -than mortal if he had resisted such an appeal. - -‘Now, Mrs. Lilburne, this is hardly fair. But I’m not a public -character, and I know I can rely on you not to give me away. So here -goes, while we walk the horses up the hill:— - -‘The night was hot and steamy. I was sitting in my tent writing home, -and Newstead was talking to Minniekins—really half the credit belongs -to her, for she gave us warning, you know. We were enjoying the quiet -loaf, when suddenly she began to growl—not a bark, but a low, -suspicious, disapproving note, hinting at undesirables. It was too -dark to see more than a few yards; but Minniekins rarely made a false -point. - -‘We had finished a big clean up, and were mostly tired—perhaps a -trifle sleepy. I stopped writing and watched. Minniekins kept on -growling. On a sudden she burst into a fierce bark. Then I heard an -oath, and a sharp yell of pain, after which she went on barking worse -than ever. Then the scoundrels made their rush—it was a “put-up -thing,” I mean planned beforehand—and the scrimmage began. - -‘A fellow jammed a revolver into my face, which I instinctively -knocked up, knocking him down with a left-hander at the same time. - -‘His “gun,” as Americans call it, fell wide of him, and I grabbed it -before he got on his legs again. I heard shots while this little bit -of business was going on, and Mr. Banneret got a scratch—a close shave -all the same. My man was soon made safe, and I was just in time to see -Newstead laid out with a bullet through his left shoulder, not so far -from the heart. A police detachment came in on the top of the shindy; -but the battle was over. A tall man lay dead not far from the -gold-room—poor Dick Andrews was down, and played out; but he had saved -Banneret’s life by dropping “Long Jack” as the tall scoundrel—a noted -criminal from another colony—was taking a second shot. - -‘Old Jack, who was just going to the township, and, being in full fig, -had of course got his six-shooter, had fired right and left with good -effect, so that when the Inspector lined up with the flower of the -police force, fully armed, there was nothing to do but to carry off -the wounded and bury the casualties. That was our Waterloo—short, -sharp, and decisive; if it hadn’t been for Minniekins, we should have -been taken, wholly unprepared—like the War Office in the Boer War. I -think she ought to be decorated for it.’ - -‘And Lord Newstead—I suppose he recovered?’ - -‘I can answer for that,’ said Mrs. Lilburne, ‘as I had him under my -care for a month, and a very refractory patient he was. He went home -by the next P. & O.’ - -‘Of course he did,’ said Southwater, in an aggrieved tone, ‘and -swelled about with his arm in a sling, giving himself the airs and -graces of the wounded warrior, and letting the girls wait upon him all -the way to Marseilles, under the impression that “his heart was weak,” -and all sorts of humbug, while Chesterfield and I had to come back -here and—er—take up the weary round of toil and what’s-its-name.’ - -‘Well, it seems to agree with you, Mr. Southwater,’ said the girl, -smiling in so bewitching a fashion that a man might have been nerved -to even greater exertion than such as was demanded from the -shareholders in a mine which had reached the dividend-paying stage, -and _such_ dividends too, as the ‘Last Chance, Limited,’ was even now -disbursing. - -‘“All’s well that ends well,” is a comfortable proverb. I feel pretty -well, thank you, Miss White, and am gratified for the compliment. But -here is old Jack coming forward to welcome this honourable party, and -to do the honours in proper goldfield style.’ - -That venerable ancient now arrived on the scene, his bronzed and -gnarled countenance wrinkled into an expression of welcome, which -seemed with difficulty to adapt itself to his rugged face. The -intention, however, was unmistakable. - -‘Proud to see you, Mrs. Lilburne—and Miss Jean. Lord love her, hasn’t -she growed into the beauty of the world! How you’ve shot up, to be -sure! It’s many a long year since your father and I met on the other -side. Well, he was always lucky—in more ways than one—that I’ll say -and stand to. Glad to see you, sir! Like to see the mine? Saw the big -silver mine at Los Angelos, did you? I was there many a year ago. -Didn’t ought to have come away neither. But I was a “forty-niner.” -Couldn’t help following the rush to ’Frisco—what a time it was! -There’ll never be anything like it again while the world lasts.’ - -‘My husband would like to see the machinery,’ said Mrs. Lilburne. -‘What a grand view you’ve got!’ - -‘That’s what I thought when I first seen it, ma’am. I was pretty well -told out when I got here first—thought I’d turn round and get back -while I’d a little strength left. But I couldn’t help standin’ still -to look at the view. The sun was just a-settin’, and there was a kind -of gold and red look over that far plain country. So, thinks I, it -looks mean to cut away back without proving one or two of these -“gulches”—that’s what we called them in San Francisco. So I stayed and -camped—and next day if I didn’t fall plum centre on the—the——’ - -‘The Great Pilot Mount Reef, going twenty ounces to the ton,’ said -Mr. Southwater, ‘which you’re going to show these ladies and -Mr. Lilburne—not forgetting a five-ounce nugget for Miss White.’ - -‘We’ve been breaking down the south end of the reef to-day, and got -some pretty coarse gold, so the ladies has come at a good time, sir. -Please to follow me, and we’ll see what we can do. It ain’t every day -we see a young lady like Miss Jean. Lord bless and prosper her!’ - -So the party was introduced to the ‘shift boss,’ with other leading -officials and men in authority; afterwards to be lowered down in the -‘cage’ to where men were working two hundred yards from the surface, -in narrow alleys with gleaming white or pink walls of quartz, in which -were golden streaks. Narrow bands of dull red or yellow metal, almost -unrecognisable as the root of all evil, and the lure for which men—ay, -and women—bartered soul and body, and were content to work in hunger, -dirt, rags, and wretchedness, if only they could gain a sufficiency of -the dross, so called, which people profess to despise, but which all -men covet and hanker for to their lives’ end. - -The atmosphere was hot and humid; the men at work in these lower -levels might have passed for Red Sea stokers, as they laboured with -tense muscle and sinew. - -To what purpose this labour was expended—so far from the light of the -sun or the fresh air of heaven—a visit to the treasure-chamber, in one -side of the great gallery, was recommended. There the person in charge -of the gold pointed out some of the specimens which had recently been -sent in. Besides these there was the retorted gold. - -After the gold was extracted from the innocent-looking matrix, it was -poured into shapes, one of which, looking like the half of that anchor -of British loyalty and instinctive reverence to the Empire, the -British plum-pudding, the guardian had more than once offered to an -adventurous damsel ‘on tour’—if she could _carry it away_: a challenge -sometimes accepted; but in all cases the weight proved too great for -the fair arms which so lovingly enfolded the bullion. However, -fragments of the pure, precious metal were extracted from the -glittering heap and handed to Mrs. Lilburne and the fair Jean, with -apologies, even entreaties that they would deign to accept them, and -so bring good luck to the mine, and all who laboured in it. - -‘I must say,’ said Lilburne, after marking with experienced eye the -various indications on this and other ‘drives’ (galleries), and -workings generally, ‘that this country of yours appears to me more -wonderful every hour I spend in it. Think of a solitary traveller, -“remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,” dropping upon a property like -this, and, what is more noteworthy, being able to keep possession of -it.’ - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -‘All this is very nice,’ said the fair damsel, who had refused to -accept another pennyweight of gold, ‘but the sun is going down, and I -_must_ see the exact spot where the battle was fought, where -Mr. Newstead lay, and where the tall robber fell dead; also where old -Jack stood when he “opened business on his own account”—I should like -to have been there, I confess.’ - -‘Next time, Miss Jean, we will let you know,’ replied Southwater; ‘but -come with me, and I will show you all the points of the attack, and -where our camp stood.’ - -Scrambling up the narrow path, the young people reached the conical -flat-topped boulder near the summit, where the ‘frontal attack’ of the -gold-robbers had been made. Exclaiming that ‘she was out of breath,’ -the girl seated herself upon the historic stone—to be famous -henceforth in the legends which are so apt to grow and develop with -age. - -‘What a curious sensation it must be to be shot at!’ she said, gazing -dreamily over the trackless Waste, where the red sunset spread a -wondrous blazonry, weirdly gorgeous in the pageant of the fading eve. -‘How did you feel, Mr. Southwater?’ - -‘There’s no time to feel anything unless you’re hit. Newstead said it -was like a crack with a stone—hardly realised till you drop; then, of -course, you are all the time wanting to get at the other fellow. At -least that’s my experience. It was all so sudden: I had only just -written home to my friends, saying it was absurd to think of a -goldfield as rude and lawless—that, in fact, it was _much_ safer than -London at midnight. A minute or two afterwards, we were fighting for -our lives and hard-earned gold; more surprising still—but—perhaps——’ - -‘Oh! go on, pray,’ pleaded Miss Jean, whose interest was now fully -aroused, as was evidenced by her sparkling eyes and changing -colour—‘what _could_ be more surprising?’ - -‘I only meant that it was queer, though folks at home wouldn’t realise -it, that our best and boldest defender, poor Dick Andrews, who really -won the fight for us, turns out to have been a notorious criminal, -known in connection with the death of an Inspector of police in -another colony.’ - -‘Poor fellow! perhaps he had suffered injustice—one never knows. What -became of him?’ - -‘He was mortally wounded in the engagement, and made an edifying end -next day, happy in the thought that his wife and children were -provided for.’ - -The girl was silent for a little space, and then said in a changed -voice, ‘Can you tell me, Mr. Southwater, can any one explain, why what -are called bad men are so much more interesting than ordinary -well-behaved people? They should not be, but that they are there’s no -denying.’ - -‘Hard to say—must be a natural sympathy for what Marcus Clarke calls -“the thoroughbred upstanding criminal.” Sort of glamour—particularly -affecting women, strange to say. Men understand the breed better. And -yet any one more unlike the received notion of the hardened outlaw -than poor Dick couldn’t be.’ - -‘Now, what was he like?’ - -‘The regular Sydney-side native. Tall, spare, muscular, or, rather, -sinewy of frame, with regular features, chiefly unrelaxed, but wearing -a pleasant expression at times. Low-voiced, and unpretending in -demeanour, though wonderfully good at all manner of bush work. -Reserved, for reason good, as may be imagined, yet respected “on the -field,” and held to be liberal in all that concerned his -fellow-workers. A perfect horseman, as a matter of course.’ - -‘I shall begin to cry if we go on much longer,’ said the fair Jean, -‘and Mrs. Lilburne will be mildly reproachful, dear soul! if we are -late for dinner.’ - -So these young people lost no time in joining their friends, and the -buggy pulled up at the Palace Hotel in something like ‘record time’ -between ‘the Mount’ and the city, which, indeed, had been carefully -noted, and was publicly known to all who had pretensions to sporting -accuracy. - -The next morning saw the departure of Alister Lilburne and his wife -from the Gold City, which had been to her a refuge, nay, a home—a -retreat from the pressure of care, the uncertainty of position, for -all these days; departure from the people whom she had learned to -love, and who had loved her with the deep, abiding conviction -based upon gratitude and respect, which outlives ephemeral -popularity—becoming welded into a cult or, as in Eastern lands, into a -Faith. Whatever might have been the feelings with which the ordinary -population of Pilot Mount regarded their late Hospital Superintendent, -a handsome and indeed munificent endowment, to be devoted to the -building and fitting up of a new wing, testified to Elinor Lilburne’s -enduring interest in the welfare of the institution to which she had -devoted some of the best years of her life. - - * * * * * - -Arnold Banneret’s financial status had now developed by such ‘leaps -and bounds,’ to use the handy parliamentary phrase, that he found -himself placed in an entirely novel position—one, indeed, of which he -had never had previous experience; nor had he, in any mood of -day-dreaming, been confronted with such. Yet, now, a decision must be -made—a momentous question settled definitely. His income, large even -for a golden claimholder, was annually increasing. Money was no -object, to speak familiarly, yet it was the question before the -House—the Legislative Council represented by himself, personally; and -indeed he had been an M.L.C. for some years, in right of which, and a -talisman worn on his watch chain, he was entitled to free railway -passage throughout the length and breadth of New South Wales. It was -a pity that it did not apply to all British dominions, some of his -fellow-legislators thought; but that privilege could not be arranged -just yet. Still, in that day, when the United States of Australasia, -with a population of a hundred millions, dominating the South Pacific, -from New Guinea to Victoria Land within the Antarctic Circle, in -alliance, too, with the United States and the Dominion of Canada, form -a Pan-Anglican Power, prompt and efficient to regulate the world’s war -and peace, who shall say them nay? - -The voyage home! Of this momentous ‘trip,’ as it was called in light, -almost sportive reference, the now successful, honoured, and wealthy -Australian proprietor had often thought. But neither the means nor the -opportunity for such a decisive movement had as yet been forthcoming. -The children had been too young, the financial outlook too restricted, -in his earlier married life. Not that he or his wife had any ardent -desire to make the change. They were attached to their native land; -the climate agreed with them—they were not sure that the rigorous -seasons of the ancestral isle would suit the immature brood, in which -were centred the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows, of their daily -life. It had been relegated by consent to the region of by and by, -where so many of the fairy legends of childhood were to come true; and -now, slowly, imperceptibly, yet not less surely, the years had flown. -Those years which divide early manhood and womanhood from middle age -had departed never to return. - -The future—the ‘by and by’—which had loomed so far and mist-coloured -in their early life, had been overtaken. It had become the present, to -be felt and reckoned with. The children had grown up. Of the boys, one -was at Cambridge, the other working hard to pass exams., and panting -for the happy day when he should see his name gazetted for a -commission in an Imperial cavalry regiment. Of the girls, younger by -several years, Hermione, almost ready to ‘come out,’ as the Society -phrase is; the others, school-girls, receiving daily tuition from -governesses, music masters, teachers of drawing, singing, -languages,—all the varied education which goes to equip the modern -maiden for her place in the ranks of womanhood. - -Now these young people had a natural ambition to ‘see the world.’ They -had read widely, if not deeply, and were impatient to have tangible -evidence of the historic glories of older lands. Of paintings and -statuary their knowledge had been necessarily limited, although far -from ordinary collections had been accessible in the galleries and -museums of the metropolis in which they resided, and others which they -had visited. Their artistic tastes, though not wholly unformed, were -capable of higher development. They yearned for closer acquaintance -with the capitals of the world—the ancient world. They ardently -desired to behold Rome, Venice, Greece, Paris, Cairo. Reading was -delightful. They could never be sufficiently grateful to their parents -who had indulged their legitimate enthusiasm to the fullest amount -possible to their opportunities. But, of course, it was not, could -never be the same. They longed to stand upon the Bridge of Sighs, ‘a -palace and a prison on each hand’; to watch ‘Old Tiber through a -marble wilderness rise with her yellow waves’; to visit the Coliseum -by moonlight; to stand on Mars Hill, and ‘yon tower-capped Acropolis, -which seems the very clouds to kiss,’—in short, to view all sorts of -instructive, entrancing places. After such experiences they did not -care what happened. They would have seen everything worth seeing. They -could no longer be classed as ‘mere colonials’—they would be citizens -of the world—akin to the most enviable sections of English society. -Mrs. Banneret, though with less enthusiasm, agreed in the main with -her daughters. Time and circumstance were propitious. Who could tell -whether so favourable a combination would remain unaltered? - -Besides, she was anxious to see her sons once more. It was nearly -three years since they had left their native land. Her husband -secretly sympathised, though for a different class of reasons. He had -not, could not have, the instinctive, passionate yearning with which -the tender maternal heart agonises, so to speak, for the embrace of -the sons whom she has brought into the world; for the sight of their -dear faces; to feel once more the touch of cheek, of lips, of -handclasp; to hear the joyous exultation of greeting after long -absence; to mark anew the likeness to either parent, which the -advancing years may have imprinted yet more distinctly on face or -form. - -In a measure, of course, Arnold Banneret shared these sacred -sensations. He was proud of his boys, of their good looks and athletic -development; fond of them also, although with less intensity than the -mother that bore them—holiest and most ancient tie. He had watched -over their education up to the University stage, and now, having, as -he told himself, done his duty by them, awaited with some anxiety, -though with reasonable confidence, the choice of a profession which it -behoved them to make. For himself, he looked forward, of course, with -pleasurable anticipation to revisiting the scenes, so fondly -remembered, of the halcyon time of early manhood, when, fresh from -college, he had roamed over the Continent with a comrade of congenial -culture. Together they had followed the course of the majestic, solemn -Rhine—mused over the ruined towers of Sternfels and Liebenstein—gazed -at Rolandseck, at once the pride and beauty of the noble river. Rome, -Athens, Florence, Paris—how the rapture of travel, the joy of -companionship, the careless wanderings over hill and dale, city and -plain, came freshly back! Could but one’s youth return! - -Alas! how few of the comrades of that joyous time are left, even in -middle age. Hope is fled; the anticipation of a perhaps romantic -future no longer cheers the sober monotony of life. We know the best -that _can_ happen. We fear lest the worst should come suddenly into -our life, like some monster of the wood, unseen, unsuspected before. -Such are, such may be, the brooding imaginings of the later life. - -The Honourable Arnold Banneret, as for years he had been styled, was -able to combat them by reflecting that, at any rate, he had played a -man’s part in life, at first with moderate, then with exceptional -success. He had sons wherewith to meet his enemies in the gate. There -was little doubt—he thanked God—of their courage and intelligence. Why -then this dark hour, these depressing doubts? - -As a corrective, he proceeded at once to the office of the P. & O. -Company, and took his passage for London. After securing the requisite -number of comfortable cabins in the _Lhassa_—the latest addition to -the fleet of noble liners which, since their introduction by the great -Association of ship-owners, has enabled Australian colonists to travel -with speed and economy, with comfort, even luxury—he returned to lunch -at Redgrove, with spirits considerably improved, and in a frame of -mind more nearly akin to that in which he was accustomed to prepare -for a long overland journey in the days of ‘long ago.’ ‘How strange it -is,’ he told himself, ‘that on the eve of an important voyage, or -undertaking, a feeling of doubt and depression should so often -manifest itself. One involuntarily recalls the presentiments which -came true—of shipwreck, of hurricane, fire, or mutiny, following the -gloom and almost despairing prevision of disaster. Of the numberless -successful undertakings and fortunate voyages no record is kept. -“Fears of the brave and follies of the wise” are not far to seek in -the connection.’ - -Sir Walter Scott, in success most modest, in adversity truly -undaunted, even he owns to an unreasonable cloud of doubt and -irresolution, including a ghostly murmur, ‘Do not go, Walter,’ which -he solemnly affirms to, and that nearly led him to give up an -expedition which afterwards turned out to be most beneficial, -fortunate, and even marked by distinguished adventures. - - * * * * * - -The eventful day, fortunately fine, came at last. It was in the -opening week of March—the first month of the southern autumn, mild -with clear skies, cool bracing nights and mornings. The winds in that -halcyon time were still: the north wind no longer swept across the -plains of the inmost desert, bringing burning heat, dust-storms, and -wrathful cyclones in its track to the cities of the coast. - -All nature, before the advent of winter, appeared to be entering upon -a dreamless slumber. The winter, dread season of the austere North, -was but relatively severe—cool, rather than cold, with the exception -of the mountain heights, where snow fell in early autumn and lay until -spring was fairly advanced. - -Packing and preparing for the momentous family event was therefore -divested of its less agreeable features, while the inevitable process -of leave-taking, with farewells to friends and relatives, was -transacted under the most favourable circumstances—a bright sun and -fair wind, not too pronounced. At the appointed hour the bell rang, -the shoreward division was politely requested to hasten their -departure, and the huge liner moved gracefully from the wharf, and -with calm, resistless force was soon breasting the wavelets between -those frowning rock-portals, the Sydney Heads. - -On that auspicious, long-remembered day, everything went well. The -young people, for the first time in their lives on ‘blue water,’ -walked the decks until the time for preparing for dinner arrived. - -At this important function they were placed in the seat of honour -at the captain’s table, and near that august, autocratic -ruler—Mrs. Banneret, indeed, on the commander’s right hand, and other -members of the family in close proximity. The whole service was -admirable in their eyes; the menu varied, and excellently cooked. -Military and naval officers, with Indian passengers getting off at -Colombo, gave a pleasant, half-foreign tone to the company. By the -time coffee was introduced, and the adjournment to the row of -deck-chairs and lounges made, Hermione and Vanda were convinced that a -‘voyage home’ was a fairy-tale experience, merely the overture to a -dramatic performance of dazzling variety and enjoyment. - -‘What a new life this is, compared to our existence in Sydney!’ -exclaimed Hermione to her mother, as together they paced the deck, -leaving their father to sit between Vanda and the younger girls, -answering their endless questions. - -‘Oh, I am so delighted that you persuaded father to make the plunge, -and take us home! I was afraid that he might suddenly get bad news -from Pilot Mount, or a bank, or something, and say it was impossible -to go; you never can be sure, until you are actually on board, and -off—really off. Even then the Bardsleys actually came back from -Colombo, for some trumpery reason—the climate did not agree with their -aunt, or some one. I believe the elder girls went on by themselves. I -couldn’t have done that, could I, mother? but you must own it was -heartbreaking.’ - -‘It is like many things that have to be endured in this life, my -darling!’ said the fond mother, tenderly parting the bright hair of -the girl, now in the first flush of youthful beauty; for they were a -handsome family, the Bannerets—vigorous in mind and body; devotedly -attached to each other and to their parents; clever in their way, -though perhaps not of the highest order of intellectual development, -but highly intelligent, and sympathetic to all the higher ideals. What -was wanting in early and thorough training was compensated by energy, -courage, and the fervent desire to approve themselves fitted for the -front ranks in all departments of human effort. - - * * * * * - -The voyage came to an end, much like other voyages to the home-land, -the Mecca of Australian-born colonists, the ancestral isle—the sacred -soil, hallowed by a thousand traditions with which all are chiefly -familiar from early childhood, but on which not all are privileged to -tread. To those who, from narrow circumstances, increasing age, or -other reasons, the priceless privilege has been denied (and there have -been cases of highly cultured, indeed eminent personages, who, with a -curiously accurate knowledge of London town and suburb, have yet never -_seen_ either), the omission has caused a regret which only ended with -life; while those who can talk of British country houses, and the -green lanes of ‘merrie England,’ bear themselves ever afterward with a -sense of superiority over their less fortunate friends and relatives. -Unvexed by storms, the good ship _Lhassa_ pursued her course to -Colombo the paradisial, where first the glories of a possible -Eden—with flower and fruit, primæval forest and mystic mountain -summit, the whole set like a many-coloured jewel within the girdling -wave and glowing tropic sky—were revealed to their enraptured gaze. -They left this charmed region after a survey all too brief, -registering a vow, separately and collectively, to revisit the magic -isle, the splendour of which they would recall in their dreams. -However, the next best thing would be the sights and sounds of the -city of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid, the dream-palaces of Zobeide and -Amina—the one-eyed Calendars, transformed princes, and Grand Viziers. -Here they were promised a fortnight’s stay, in which they could revel -in the ‘havoc and glory of the East’ to their hearts’ content. - -This, too, came in due course. Not alone were the immortal memories of -the _Arabian Nights_ recalled before their wondering eyes, with -water-carriers, black slaves, veiled women, pacha and dragoman, camels -and Arab horses, with gems of Easternrie like the sands of the sea -for multitude; but more modern delights, perhaps, on the whole, not -less alluring to the immature feminine mind—the grandeur and -magnificence of the Savoy Hotel, with the dresses and jewels of the -fair visitors who made Cairo a winter resort. Whatever sins of -omission the Banneret family had to charge themselves with in after -years, the complete and thorough exploration of Grand Cairo and its -environs was not among them. They ‘did’ the historic place -conscientiously and thoroughly. The Sphinx, the Pyramids, the Museum -at Boulak; the Nile, up to the first cataract; the citadel, the -Mosque, the Palace of Sweet Waters,—all the regular, and some of the -irregular sights. Nothing was neglected. The girls, indeed the whole -party, rode well. Mrs. Banneret had been a daring horsewoman in her -youth, and though motherhood had necessarily abated her enterprise, -the courage which neither poverty, sickness, fatigue, nor mortal pain -had power to tame, was still unshaken, and enabled her to bear her -part in the expeditions in which the family revelled. Her willowy -figure, but little altered from the days of girlhood, was admirably -suited for equestrian exercise. She, like the rest of the family, -delighted in the glowing atmosphere of the desert, and, now that -circumstances had conspired to free her from the trammels of -housekeeping, she surrendered herself unreservedly to the enchantment -of the hour. - -‘What a glorious experience this is for the children—for all of us, -indeed!’ she exclaimed more than once. ‘I think you and I, Arnold, -enjoy the whole thing nearly as much as they do—the foreign -surroundings, the verification of old history and legend, the -aloofness of all things from the rawness, if I may use the word, of -their native land.’ - -‘Yes,’ he replied; ‘one seems to absorb everything in a deep, -unuttered spirit of thankfulness; and while contented with our lot in -life, we have one feeling in common with some of our fellow-visitors -at the hotel: a conviction—I speak of Lord Westerham and that South -African millionaire who came to the Savoy last week—that our financial -position is assured, impossible for anything to alter. We are, -however, in a higher position than the millionaire. With him brain -work and anxiety have told a tale. His health is impaired. They say he -suffers terribly from insomnia, than which I can imagine nothing more -agonising. A man whom I knew, otherwise enviably placed, finding that -change of air combined with a sea voyage had no effect, hired a cab -one day, went out for a short drive, and shot himself.’ - -‘What a dreadful thing to do! He must have been insane.’ - -‘Not necessarily. The mental torment, unrelieved by “sleep that knits -up the ravelled sleave of care,” had reached the stage when it became -unendurable. People are not necessarily mad when they elect to face -the problem of the Great Hereafter.’ - -‘I cannot but think that they _are_,’ said she, ‘or they would remain -to confront the ills of life, rather than be false to every duty and -callous to the suffering of those whom they leave behind. But the idea -is hateful to me. I cannot bear to discuss it.’ - -The days of dreamy delight in the land of the Pharaohs came all too -swiftly to an end. The season had advanced. If they wished to see the -glorious greenery of England in the spring, they could not afford to -linger among the ruins of the past, however stupendous or -awe-striking. It was determined to make one halt, and one only. As -there were three women of the party, what doubt could there be of the -decision? They were to visit Paris! A short sojourn in Malta produced -a cry of delight from the girls as they walked from Nix Mangiare -stairs to the Strada Reale. A drive to St. Paul’s Bay, a fleeting -vision of the drawbridges and fortifications, of narrow streets and -lofty houses; mule-carts, mantillas, and water-carriers; priests with -sombre robes and broad-leafed hats. There was so much to see, and but -little time in which to do it. The Governor’s Palace was visited, -reminiscent of Grand Masters; L’Isle Adam, and doubtless de -Beaumanoir, so hard and unrelenting, in the case of the noble and -unhappy Rebecca; the ramparts where, guarded by iron railings, were -fosses of awful depth, besides old-world towers and batteries, which -the Moors in past centuries had good cause to dread. Another day was -granted in favour of a visit to the Church of St. John. - -‘Oh, we should be disgraced,’ said Hermione—‘have to hide our heads in -shame—if we dared to say that we had spent a day in Malta and had not -been inside that most lovely church! Think of the Knights of Malta! -Why, we are standing on their marble tombstones! De Rohan—think of the -motto: “Ni prince, ni roi, Rohan je suis.” Isn’t that it? Perhaps -Bois-Guilbert lies not far off—no, he can’t be; he was a Templar, Far -from respectable, I daresay; but one can’t help loving him—can you -now? Rebecca preferred Wilfred, probably because he was fair and she -was dark. I’ve noticed that contrasts in complexion tend that way.’ - -‘If such nonsense is the outcome of your visit to Malta, we need not -have lost a day,’ said Mrs. Banneret. ‘Pray bring your thoughts more -into harmony with the surroundings. Listen to that wonderful music—the -organ is heavenly, and that soaring soprano might be the voice of an -angel. I wonder at you, my dear!’ - -‘Oh, mother dear, forgive me!’ pleaded the penitent; ‘I did not intend -to be irreverent; but whether it is the lovely air, or the -intoxication of travel, I can’t say, for one’s tongue seems to run -along of itself. I won’t offend again.’ And here tears dimmed the -bright eyes of the sensitive maiden, as mother and child embraced over -one of the few differences which ever ruffled the calm of their deep -mutual love. - -Mr. Banneret making his appearance with the two younger girls, -explanations were deferred, and the party made their way homeward. - -Only a short stay, limited to the time necessary for the purchase of -_articles de Paris_ and the indispensable shoes and gloves, was made -in Paris, the all-important dress question being left to a more -convenient season, when it and the leisurely Continental tour could be -thoroughly enjoyed. At present the parents, although indulgent to the -border-line of prudence, were actuated by motives unconnected with the -enjoyment of picture galleries, gardens of Armida, or military -reviews, where the striking uniforms of Zouaves and Spahis delighted -the girls. Mrs. Banneret yearned with all the intensity of the -maternal heart to see her boys again. - -The head of the family had not said much on the subject, and, save the -sharer of his joys and sorrows, none had heard him open his heart upon -a matter which nevertheless lay very near it—had indeed caused him -more anxiety than he cared to express. ‘How are these boys of mine -likely to turn out?’ was a query which arose in his mind at early -dawn, when he always awoke; sometimes, although not often, in the -watches of the night; occasionally during the day with insistent -pertinacity. He had seen so many cases where early moral training, a -good example, a liberal education, good society, and good advice had -been all too powerless to stem the downward current of indolence, -extravagance, and dissipation. The fatal knowledge that for them, at -least, there was no necessity for industry, self-denial, or economy, -overbore all old-fashioned arguments, as they considered them to be. - -‘The governor,’ thus referred to in latter-day speech, ‘had made “pots -of money”—it had been all right for _him_ to work and slave in the -queer early times that old buffers yarned about. He was bound to do -it, of course, or go under. But they were _not_—that made all the -difference. They were sorry to disagree with him—he wasn’t half bad, -the old governor—in fact, a dashed good sort. But he wasn’t up to -date! He had no idea of how a chap had to chuck the coin about, to -keep in the front rank, nowadays. He _must_ have the necessaries of -life. Think of what polo costs! You couldn’t get a decent pony under -fifty or sixty quid; then you must have a boy—a smart one too; two -ponies were little enough—safer to have four, in case of accidents. -Fellah must be decently dressed if he goes out at all—and tailors, if -they were any good, charged such infernal prices! He’d a fairish -allowance, but last Cup Day made a hole in it’—and so on—and so on. - -This was the way the sons of his old friends talked; this was the way -they acted—sad to relate. He heard them at the clubs—where they came -down late for breakfast, looking as if they required a ‘strongish nip’ -to steady their nerves. They confessed with cheerful confidence that -‘supper after the theatre had not been conducive to appetite. They -really intended to take a pull some day—perhaps get married. But, -really, Sydney and Melbourne had become such infernally dull holes -that there was nothing to keep a fellow from goin’ to sleep except -bridge and billiards—which didn’t always pay.’ - -Would it not be worth while to try politics for a little -excitement? was suggested. There was the landed interest to develop -legitimately—or indeed to defend. A wave of socialism had arisen, was -indeed likely to become a tidal wave if no effort was made to arrest -the doctrine of which among the earliest expositors was the late -lamented John Cade. - -‘What!’ cries ‘the heir of all the ages’—‘mug up Goldwin Smith, -Herbert Spencer, and those other Johnnies—to rub shoulders with a lot -of fellows that drop their _h_’s all over the shop? Shouldn’t get in, -for one thing—and, if I did, why there’s hardly a gentleman in the -whole caboodle!’ - -‘Whose fault is that?’ queried the senior. ‘Have you ever tried?—or -have any young men of your class, except Wharton and Conyers, and what -are they among so many?’ - -‘Don’t know that I have—not built that way. Some fellahs like that -sort of thing—I don’t.’ - -‘Of course it doesn’t matter. It might interfere with your amusements. -Then you don’t mind that the laws are being made by the people you -despise and won’t associate with—laws to bind your children—and their -children after you—if you ever have any: you’ve lost the chance of -modifying them—or blocking the suicidal and destructive ones. Laws -made by men without capital in land or business—chiefly without -culture, often without character; laws made to bind that part of the -population who are handicapped by the possession of qualifications -anciently held to be titles to respect—now held to place them below -the swagman, the loafer, the drunkard, and the pauper, as guarantee -for place and power! How does that strike you?’ - -‘Well, it does look mean—rather a crowd of “rotters” to belong to—I -must think it over—I’m popular round about old Banda-widgeree—I think -I’ll have a shy for the district next election if it’s not too late. -I’m almost afraid it is. They’re talking of nationalising the -goldfields—the land—the railways. Hang it!—they’ll want to nationalise -a fellah’s bank-balance next.’ - -‘They’ll do that by a side wind, and if they have the voting power on -their side—as they have pretty well now, what with adult and female -suffrage: ten thousand female voters in a metropolitan constituency -against _nine_ thousand male voters—whose fault is that?’ - -‘I’m afraid our crowd had most to do with it by letting things -drift—and I’m as bad as anybody. Good-bye—thanks—I do see things a -trifle more clearly. Perhaps I’ll stand after all.’ - -Arnold Banneret had listened to, indeed joined in, a conversation much -resembling it one day. It deepened the lines on his brow, which were -beginning to be more pronounced than the advance of time warranted. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -‘Suppose Reggie and Eric turned out like that young fellow!’ he told -himself. ‘What good would my life do me? Next to marrying one of the -daughters of Heth (the real, original millstone round a man’s neck), -what hope, satisfaction, or comfort should I have in life? Is all my -work, thought, self-denial, and drudgery to go for nothing? Shall I -see as my male heirs and successors a couple of well-dressed, -good-looking “moneyed loungers,” loafing through life with no more -interest in the great drama of existence than the supernumerary at a -fashion play? Less useful, indeed, than the disregarded “super,” for -he works for his humble wage; and these _nati consumere fruges_ don’t -even do that.’ - -These reflections gave so gloomy a tinge to his view of life that he -felt inclined to pronounce the whole scheme of human life a joke—a bad -one at that. ‘Why, a man might work his powers of mind and body to the -extremity of endurance, to reach a well-defined goal, where happiness -sat enthroned, and then—when he got there—his powers of enjoyment -might desert him, or malign occurrences dash the cup from his lips, -and the apples of the garden of the Hesperides turn to ashes in his -mouth! Why then should mortal man seek to raise himself above the -beasts that perish? “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.”’ -_Vanitas vanitatum_ was the verdict with which he concluded this -series of enlivening reflections, when a voice which always had power -to charm away the demons of despondency fell on his ears. - -‘Well, my dear Arnold, what are you looking so serious about? Have you -remembered that we are to meet the Liddesdales at luncheon and go with -them to Aintree? We have settled to see the great race run, and -perhaps the boys will be able to get away and meet us on the course. -The girls are so excited about it that their appetites will suffer. -There’s an Australian horse in it, or a New Zealander, or something—at -any rate an Antipodean, more properly still an Australasian. So we -must all back him for the sake of our national honour. What a splendid -thing it will be if he wins!’ - -‘Afraid he hasn’t much chance, my dear! The jumps are not high -enough—or stiff enough—for a horse used to three-railed fences. Didn’t -some one describe the Grand National as a flat race with a good many -low fences in it? Four miles and a half, a trifle over, they say. It -wants a fast horse, a thoroughbred and a good stayer. I’ve always held -that we—I speak of the South generally—should win it and the Derby -some day. And so we shall, but there’s a difficulty about the age -that complicates the latter race. However, that can be got over, I -suppose, in time; but I don’t feel in racing trim, somehow.’ - -‘Oh, nonsense, my dear! you mustn’t get into low spirits now we’ve got -everything we ever wished for, and more besides. It looks like the -pilot that weathered the storm breaking up after the ship is safe in -harbour. Come along and see the girls’ new dresses. They’re in such -good taste, and yet “quite excellent” as to fashion and fit.’ - -The London season! How often had the words fallen on the ears of the -Australian family! What a world of meaning it conveyed to the juvenile -section! Vast, mysterious, splendid—the acme of enjoyment—the _ne plus -ultra_ of fashion. The pinnacle of perfection in all things desirable, -with boundless riches as a substratum, solid, unquestioned, supreme -among the nations, what power was like England? And here they were, -actually living and breathing in her metropolis—the world’s -metropolis, as they had often heard it called. After London there was -nothing more to see—nothing more to learn. There were orders of -nobility on the continent of Europe—Counts and Princes, Barons and -Grafs, in profusion—but what were they to the nobility of England, -where only the eldest son was heir to the ancestral title? Not -cheapened, as abroad, by the law which gave the rank to every child of -the house and to every child of _their_ children—thus multiplying -titles, which having little or no means upon which to support the -dignity, brought contempt upon the order and the race. Day by day as -they rode or strolled in the parks they saw magnificent equipages, -unsurpassed for beauty and uniformity—such as no other capital could -supply—such horses, such carriages!—such equipages generally—as struck -them with surprise and admiration. And the number and quality of them! -As the sands of the sea—innumerable. They never seemed to come to an -end. The private carriages were overpowering enough in all conscience, -but by the Four-in-Hand Club—the Coaching Club—on the days of the -annual processions, were they wonder-stricken, speechless! Such teams, -with such action—in such condition! such coachmen—such footmen—beyond -all conception of matching, all imagination of fashion and -completeness! - -Of course they had not been long in town before they were taken to the -theatres and opera houses, where certain performances were in full -vogue and acceptation. Here they were entranced by the perfection of -the impersonations, the splendour of the staging, the pathos and the -majesty of the finest vocal talent of the world, supported by the -grandest instrumental harmony. Of this last consummation an Australian -compatriot, born and reared to womanhood in a southern metropolis, was -a _prima donna assoluta_ during that memorable season. - -Heroes too, naval and military, passed in review, in park or street, -before these young people. They were evidently desirous to store their -minds with the exact presentment of the demigods of the race, ‘in -their habit’ as they lived, for retrospective meditation. Kitchener -was in the Soudan again, but they had sight and heard speech of Lord -Roberts—Roberts of Kandahar! - - ‘Then we put the lances down, - Then the bugles blew, as we rode to Kandahar, - Marching two and two,’ - -quoted Vanda. He was mounted, looking a horseman and a soldier, every -inch of him, from plume to spur—carried by a lovely charger, but _not_ -on the historical Arab. Much they grieved that Volonel the beauteous, -the high-born, the beloved, had passed away to the land of the ‘Great -Dead.’ - -‘Do you believe,’ queried Vanda, ‘that the dear horses we have all -known, and loved and mourned, are denied a future life, when so many -of our rubbishy fellow-creatures, idle, criminal and despicable in -every sense, are to be pardoned and promoted? I hardly can. It seems -inconsistent with the scheme of eternal justice.’ - -‘It is a large question,’ replied Reggie, ‘and besides, my dear Vanda, -you are not old enough to argue on debatable points of doctrine. It is -hardly edifying at your age.’ - -Of course there had been a great meeting with ‘the boys,’ by which -endearing term the Cambridge students were known in the family. They -did not lose much time, it may be believed, before presenting -themselves at the Hotel Cecil, in which palace a telegram from Paris -notified that the family had taken apartments. They were received -with acclamation, and their growth in ‘wisdom and stature’ was -favourably remarked upon by Hermione and Vanda. Certainly they were -good specimens of the Anglo-Saxon youth of the day, whether reared in -Great or Greater Britain. Tall, well proportioned, athletic, well -dressed, and showing ‘good form,’ which means so many indefinable -qualities and habitudes, it may be imagined with what pride and joy -their parents gazed on them, and how, from very joy and thankfulness, -their mother’s eyes overflowed as her loving arms embraced her -first-born and his brother. Their father’s short but fervent greeting -was not effusive, after the manner of Englishmen, but none the less -heartfelt and secretly joyful. As such, fully understood by the sons -of the house. - -Then followed, of course, unlimited talk, with explanations, -reminiscences, expectations, descriptions, sketches of functions -impending or otherwise, with interjections by the girls—occasionally -repressed but indulgently allowed, even when not strictly in order, on -account of the exuberant happiness, even transports of the present -meeting. None could deny that. They were a pair of youngsters of whom -any family might have been proud. Their looks were in their favour -certainly. Reginald, the elder, with dark brown hair and eyes, regular -features, and a figure which united grace and symmetry in equal -proportions, was generally held to be handsome—and supposed to be -clever. An ardent and successful student, he had distinguished himself -at his college; in the Union he was looked upon as a promising, even -brilliant debater. Already he was attracted by the prospect of a -legislative career, and while connecting himself for the present with -the Liberals, was conscious of a leaning to Conservative principles, -and a belief that with age, experience, and ripened judgment he might -be found in the ranks of that great party which, while recognising -and, in proper time and place, advocating reasonable progress, -regarded as above all things the honour, the safety, the durability -of the Empire. - -The brothers, as happens usually in families, differed in a marked -degree from each other, not less in physical than in mental -attributes, while both were well up to the standard of strength and -activity demanded of well-born, well-educated Englishmen in their -college days. - -Eric, the younger, less studious than his senior, had taken a leading -part in the open-air contests of strength and skill which absorb so -large a portion of the leisure of British University men. At cricket, -football, ‘the gloves,’ he was—if not _facile princeps_—always among -the half-dozen from whom were picked the champions of their respective -colleges, in the annual or occasional contests. Each had, of course, -staunch backers and enthusiastic supporters, who battled desperately -for their inclusion in the team for international or county cricket; -or, higher honour still, in the annual boat-race at Putney. Here the -younger brother had scored, as he was three in the Cambridge Eight, -and with another Australian was prepared to die at his oar, to uphold -the men of his country and college. As this classic contest, which -was to be decided before Good Friday, was now only a few days distant, -and arrangements had been already made, and invitations accepted, for -places in a house-boat, it may be imagined what feelings animated the -breasts of the entire family as the day of the absorbing fixture drew -nigh. - -On one never-to-be-forgotten day the girls and their mother were taken -by the young men, proud of the privilege of escorting their handsome -sisters and the stately mother, over the precincts of Cambridge. The -day was fine, for a wonder—a soft sky—a gentle breeze—a day when -walking was a pleasure, and the fresh, pure air a delight. ‘There used -to be an old stone bridge over the Cam about here,’ said Reggie, -‘beside which the great Benedictine Monastery of the Fern had probably -something to do with the foundation of the University.’ - -‘Where did the students live?’ asked Hermione; ‘in the Monastery?’ - -‘They were lodged at first in the houses of the townspeople. The long -street, hereabouts, begins with Trumpington Road, but it ends in a -narrow lane, fronting Sepulchre Church. Here are, you see, the more -important Colleges. The students were possibly a more or less unruly -lot. At any rate, in 1231, Henry III., we are told, issued warrants -“for the Regulation of Cambridge Clerks.” Troublous times ensued, for -in Wat Tyler’s time the rabble (I beg their pardon), the labour party -of the period, sacked the Colleges, but were attacked and repulsed by -the young Bishop of Norwich.’ - -‘So bishops used to fight in those days?’ - -‘Yes, under stress of circumstances—there were several -instances—Bishop Odo was another priest militant. The rebellion did -not last long, fortunately; but Jack Cade only foreshadowed the -utterances of some of our latter-day legislators when he swore that -his horse should be put to grass in Cheapside.’ - -‘We should not like George and Pitt Streets to revert to kangaroo -grass again,’ said Vanda, who was highly conservative, ‘but worse -things have happened when the people got the upper hand.’ - -‘Let us hope that reasonable counsels will prevail,’ said -Mrs. Banneret; ‘in the meanwhile, suppose we explore this beautiful -building. What is it called?’ - -‘This is the famous Fitzwilliam Museum,’ answered Reggie, ‘to which -the Earl of that name bequeathed a picture gallery, a valuable -library, with 120 volumes of engravings, and a hundred thousand -pounds.’ - -‘A princely gift. Is this the Sculpture Gallery? How superb these -marbles are, and what lovely Greek vases!’ - -‘The building seems worthy of its contents,’ said Hermione. ‘What a -glorious façade! The portico and colonnades are worth a day’s study. -If we lived near I should spend hours and hours here.’ - -‘We haven’t half time enough for it to-day,’ said Eric; ‘there are -still the Ellison Pictures, the Botanic Gardens, and the Mesmer -Collection to see. It will take us till lunch time to look over the -Colleges.’ - -‘Are there many?’ asked Vanda. - -‘Ever so many. Here is Trinity to lead off with; the largest -collegiate foundation in Europe, learned people say. The Masters’ -Court was built at the expense of Doctor Whewell. You can see his -cipher, the “W.W.”’ - -‘“How reverend is the face of this tall pile,”’ quoted Hermione; ‘it -quite awes one. The grand architecture—the wondrous antiquity. No one -can sneer at these halls of learning.’ - -‘St. John’s College,’ said Eric ruthlessly, passing on, ‘is the second -largest. Has splendid restorations, I beg to observe. We needn’t wait -longer than to verify the armorial bearings of the foundress of this -and Christ’s College on that massive gateway.’ - -‘Let me look,’ said Vanda; ‘who was she?’ - -‘Margaret, Countess of Richmond, and mother of Henry VII. King’s -College was endowed and founded by Henry VI. in connection with Eton.’ - -‘I recollect,’ continued Vanda—‘“her Henry’s holy shade.”’ - -‘The Chapel,’ said Reggie, ‘is said to be an unequalled example of the -Perpendicular order of Gothic architecture, whatever that may be. This -fretted roof is not supported by a single pillar. It is vaulted in -twelve divisions. Each keystone weighs more than a ton.’ - -Before the day finished they had a modest lunch, where the famous -Trumpington ale was partaken of by the whole party as _de rigueur_ -and a part of the performance. They saw the Roman ruins at -Grandchester, and mused over Byron’s pool. The visit to Girton College -was reserved for another day. At Stourbridge, the girls shuddered at -the sight of a disused chapel of an ancient edifice said to have been -an hospital for lepers. - -‘Lepers here!’ exclaimed Vanda; ‘I didn’t know that there ever were -lepers in England.’ - -‘They were common enough, not only in Britain but throughout the -continent of Europe in the Middle Ages,’ explained Reggie; ‘they had -to carry bells and give warning as they walked, were forbidden to -enter towns and villages, and so on.’ - -‘How dreadful! What a comfort that we don’t live among such horrors. -That was what Nurse Lilburne’s husband was supposed to have been torn -away from her and shut up, on that dreadful island, for—only on -suspicion too! Where are we now, Eric?’ - -‘This is Madingley, where the King, as Prince of Wales, lived when he -was at Cambridge. Gray’s “Elegy” was written there, it is supposed.’ - -‘Oh, how delightful! I wonder if they made his Royal Highness learn it -by heart, like all of us. - - ‘The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea, etc. - -“Lea” means “meadow” in English, doesn’t it? “River flat” in early -Australian, like “mob” for “drove,” “paddock” for “field,” “rise” for -“hill,” and so on. - -All necessary arrangements had been carefully made long before the -great day—the Carnival of the Thames. What hopes and expectations had -been careering through the minds of the young people during the -preceding period! Visions of a lovely spring day, when the riverside -region would be glorified with budding willow, oak and elm, lime and -chestnut; where the nightingales at eve would sing a pæan for the -victors—Cambridge, of course; for were there not two Australians in -their boat—the Banneret boat? a circumstance unique in the University -river-history. Then, again, depression, deepening to despair, as the -weather prophets and the cloudy skies foretold evil,—a drizzle, if -not a downpour. In such case what was to become of the lovely -boating suits, the hats, the dresses, the parasols, bewitching, -irresistible?—soaked, muddied, limp. The girls dismal and -unattractive; the boys—the men—wretched and cross—or worse, reckless -and disgusted. The picture was intolerable. - -‘I shall drown myself,’ said Vanda—when for the twentieth time the -subject was discussed at breakfast—‘I know I shall, if our boat -doesn’t win, and be fished up from the oozy Thames by some “waterside -character,” or jump overboard in the intoxication of victory. Either -way I shall hardly survive the event—I——’ - -‘Here comes mother!’ interposed Hermione, who, naturally, as became -the elder sister, was less impulsive and demonstrative; ‘perhaps she -will think it better that you should stay at home, rather than display -the _Bride from the Bush_ characteristics before an English audience.’ - -‘Oh, that hateful novel! Thanks, sister dear! You have hit upon the -true corrective. I promise to be “splendidly, icily null,” rather -than give myself away to the sneering English of the period. Oh, -mother, _do_ you think it will rain? Whatever shall we do?’ - -‘Who was talking about suicide, just now? I thought I caught a word or -two of nonsensical threats, as I was nearing the door. If I thought -daughters of mine——’ - -‘Oh, darling mother, don’t go on! I know what you are going to say,’ -entreated the penitent girl; ‘it was only my nonsense. Why, Eric said -the other day that two of the men in the Oxford crew had resolved in -the case of defeat to study for the Church and go in for slum -curacies.’ - -‘I never doubted that young men as well as young women could talk -nonsense,’ conceded Mrs. Arnold, with benevolent candour; ‘but in the -meantime suppose we wait a little longer before we go into heroics -about the weather, which we cannot alter or defy.’ - -‘I second the motion,’ said Mr. Banneret, who at that moment entered -the room with the _Times_ in his hand. ‘I don’t like to hear the -question of the weather discussed flippantly. It is too serious a -subject. I have known more than one case where a poor fellow committed -suicide because it _didn’t rain_. It meant ruin to him: the loss of -twenty years’ work and self-denial. So there was some sort of excuse. -But complaints and cheap wit about so grave a subject are out of -place. I believe that the day will be fine after all. We shall see.’ - -‘Then I will promise and vow to be good for a month,’ said Hermione. -‘Vanda will not compare old and new countries in mixed society; Reggie -will not wear his superior English manner; and Eric will read steadily -for his degree, even if he has to be an Australian squatter.’ - -‘I suppose I ought to take one for the credit of my native land,’ said -Eric, ‘but I am going to be a colonist whatever happens. I’ve no -notion of loafing about in England. There are too many of that sort -here already. There’s a trying season coming, unless I mistake the -signs of the times—industrial warfare as well as the other thing. And -I mean to be in the thick of it.’ - -‘And so will I,’ said Reggie, ‘as soon as I get my double first. I’m -going in for Australian politics.’ - -‘What good will it be to you out there?’ said Eric. - -‘That’s my business, but I can’t think that an all-round University -training can unfit a man for any career, at home or abroad. There may -be a temporary prejudice; but if a man shapes his course sensibly, he -is bound to be of more weight, even in a democratic assembly, with -such an addition to his intelligence, than without. Look at William -Charles Wentworth—Dalley—John Lang, and others. The two first were the -darlings of the people (Dalley an Imperial Privy Councillor), and -always exercised immense political power. Lang was acknowledged to be -a brilliant linguist and successful barrister in India. Sir James -Martin, too, though without University training, was a man of such -phenomenal and comprehensive intellect, that he was independent of -it. He filled the highest political and legal positions with -unexampled success. His last act as Chief Justice of New South Wales -proved, strange to say, posthumously successful. An important and -complicated mining case was heard before the Full Court, composed of -Sir James and two Judges, during his last illness. It was given in -favour of the complainants by a majority of the Justices, Sir James -dissenting. He left his reasons, stated in writing. The defendants -appealed to the Privy Council. Some delay occurred. In the meantime -Sir James, who had been for some time ailing, died. The decision of -the Privy Council came out shortly after. It was in favour of the -appellants, thus upholding, even from the grave, the soundness of the -dead Judge’s opinion and legal knowledge.’ - -The day before the great boat-race of the year was doubtful. _The_ day -was, however, altogether charming and delicious. The wind of yesterday -had died down. The few soft, fleecy clouds that flecked the sky, the -fair blue firmament of the last week in March, had almost, of course -not wholly, disappeared, as they would have done in Australia. Still -it was a delicious day. Even Vanda admitted this, though prone to -disparage the old land in comparison with the new. They were all -suitably attired and ready to start directly after an early breakfast. -The girls’ boating costumes, as each had promised to accept a passage -in a club-boat, rowed by an ardent admirer, left nothing to be -desired. Such hats, such skirts, such parasols, and, of course, the -Cambridge colours! They had had some practice in a four-oar in Sydney -Harbour since they had come to live on the shores of that peerless -waterway. So they considered themselves judges of the art and science -of rowing, and were disposed to be critical and competent spectators. -Their patriotic feelings were deeply stirred, for were there not two, -really two, colonials in the Cambridge crew—a circumstance almost -unparalleled in the annals of University racing. Of course they knew -that the Diamond Sculls had been won by Mr. Ronaldson, of Western -Victoria, and twenty-five years after by his son, of the South African -Mounted Infantry, both Australian born. This they knew, for he was a -neighbour of theirs, and they had seen the sculls in the library at -‘The Peak.’ They knew, too, that for years past there had been no -’Varsity boat-race without an Australian in one or other, generally in -both, of the contesting boats. Still, ‘You never can tell till the -colours are up,’ is a racing adage as well on water as on land. They -knew how true, in the great races they had watched at Randwick and -Flemington, and their gentle bosoms fluttered each time when the -heartshaking thought would intrude that it _might_ be their hard lot -to see the shadow of Barnes Bridge fleet over the Oxford boat a few -seconds before it crossed that of Cambridge. They had experienced such -disappointments in their lives—had seen Tarcoola, a Lower Darling -outsider, win the Melbourne Cup, when the family money—not very much, -for Mr. Banneret discouraged gambling in all forms, but what Vanda -called ‘their hard-earned savings,’ put together in shillings, -sixpences, and even threepenny bits—was on Toreador. - -This malign stroke of fortune they had borne and survived. But the -personal element was so intermingled with _this_ event that if it did -not come off, the future was dark indeed. - -They kept their race-glasses fixed on the boats as the men were -getting in. How handsome Eric looked, and how proud they were of him! -An inch or two over six feet in height, yet not looking it from the -perfect symmetry of his figure, effectively displayed by the boating -costume, many a girl’s heart went out to him besides those of his -adoring sisters, and many a fervent wish, not to say prayer, ascended -as the Cambridge boat, wildly cheered, tore out and took her place by -Putney Bridge. Then Oxford followed, amidst shouts that shook the air, -rowing, for her, a quicker stroke than usual. If she can keep it up, -what price Cambridge? The thought was maddening, and the girls’ faces -began to look gravely anxious. - -On the river’s banks a human hive seems to have settled. Black are the -bridges, the lawns, the balconies, and the windows. The crowded -steamers must be dangerously o’erladen; and surely the protagonists, -in this grand trial of skill, strength, and endurance, will task every -sinew, muscle, limb, and heart-valve to win the laurel crown of the -year. The English crews fight for their College, their Alma Mater; but -the Australians are for their respective Colonies, _their_ native -land: to show, as they have done in other historic rivalry, that the -sons of Greater Britain are on a level in this as in other respects -with their relatives from the wondrous isles from which their fathers -came. ‘I ride for my county,’ quoth Valentine Maher. In much the same -sense as the West of Ireland member of ‘The Blazers’ rode, the -colonial champions in the Cambridge boat may each have vowed, as they -stretched each manly thew and sinew, to do a man’s best for the good -land for which their fathers had toiled and striven and fought in the -long-past years; with droughts and fires, blacks, bushrangers, and -other foes of the pioneer—resulting, alas! not seldom, in total wreck -and financial ruin after the work of a life’s best years. - -However, these are not holiday thoughts. The present is sunlit and -joyous; let us enjoy it while we may. There is a temporary cessation -of the murmurous, confused, unintelligible growl of the crowds. The -course is clear. The boats are off—_off_! The race has begun. So has -the true excitement, the desperate struggle of the swarming crowds on -the swaying steamers and the towing path. - -‘Oh! which is in front?’ cries Vanda. ‘Don’t say it is Oxford, or I -can never survive this day.’ - -‘Don’t be a goose,’ says Reggie magisterially. ‘Watch Hammersmith -Bridge. There—I thought as much—Cambridge is ahead.’ - -‘Hurrah!’ called out Hermione, who up to this point had been discreet -and decorous. ‘Oh, I beg pardon! but the strain was too great. Look -at that girl, with the Oxford colours and a pink parasol—how she is -waving it about. They hadn’t parasols, I suppose, in those days, or -I’m sure Rowena would have waved hers at Ashby-de-la-Zouche, when -Ivanhoe’s lance sent the Templar rolling in the lists. That was an -exciting affair, if you like. How I should have liked to have been -there!’ - -‘Hermione,’ said her mother, ‘we shall have to leave you at home next -time if you cannot control your feelings; you are doing your country -an injustice by your want of _retenue_.’ - -‘Look out for Barnes,’ said Reggie, in low, vibrating tones, as of one -who had no time for trifling. ‘By Jove! Cambridge has put up a spurt -and drawn level. How they’re shouting on the bridge. Cambridge! -Cambridge! The light blue for ever! Cambridge wins!’ - -It is even so. Cambridge leaves rowing, and one—two—three—four seconds -pass before Oxford finishes. The great race is over for the year. Eric -and his crew are on the wharf before the Ship Inn, at Mortlake. Happy -heroes—‘o’er a’ the ills o’ life victorious.’ Victors in a world-famed -contest. The news flashed within a few minutes to all the centres of -the old world and the new. It is not, ‘What will they say in England?’ -although that is of as much or more engrossing interest to the -colonist as to the home-born Briton; but also, ‘What will they say in -Sydney and Melbourne, Adelaide and Hobart, Brisbane and Perth—ay, in -distant Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie?’ In everyone of these aggregations -of people and commerce, where divers nations are represented and -various tongues are spoken, there will be a knot of watchers at the -telegraph offices to know if the news of the great race has ‘come -through,’ and many a wager will be won and lost as each man of -sporting tastes and traditions has backed his fancy, whether with the -dark blue or the light. There will be healths drunk in far-off lands -to-night, and to-night recollections of the Trumpington ale, of walks -along ‘the Backs,’ where the Cam ‘wanders through frequent arches, -with groves and gardens of unique beauty,’ will recur to grizzled -graduates of Cambridge and Oxford. - -This great and crowning mercy having been vouchsafed to them, by which -the Bannerets, young and old, would for evermore hold themselves to be -indissolubly linked with the Cambridge victory, the family had leisure -to consider what should be their next inroad into sport amid -fashionable surroundings. Hermione and Vanda had enjoyed the ecstatic -pleasure of being rowed on the broad expanse of Father Thames; had -also been congratulated by the men of their brothers’ college on -Eric’s noble performance, which (they said) had materially aided in -the glorious victory. These Austral maidens had thereupon come to the -conclusion that nothing in the world came up to the accessories and -environments amid which the nobler sports were transacted in England. -They wondered what would be the next open-air entertainment at which -they would be likely to assist, and as the weather, for a wonder, was -becoming finer every day, _almost_ rivalling the glorious sunshine of -their native land, some one threw out a suggestion about the Liverpool -Grand National Steeplechase, to come off on the 25th—next week, -indeed—at Aintree. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -‘I see that the Liverpool Grand National Steeplechase is to come off -at Aintree on the 25th of March,’ Mrs. Banneret had said, at -breakfast, one morning. ‘Your father has decided to take us to that -great race, which I feel certain we shall all enjoy. Even I must renew -my youth, and recall the days when I used to ride—actually _ride_ to -the country race-meeting held at Appin, near Barham Court, our old -home in New South Wales. My eldest brother always rode in the -principal steeplechase. And what tremendous excitement there was when -he won!’ - -‘How delightful!’ said Vanda. ‘What was the name of the dear horse?’ - -‘I remember it well,’ said the matron, her eye kindling and her clear -cheek flushing with the memories of a bygone day. ‘It was Slasher; he -was bred in the family, and trained by my brother himself. The -Governor’s wife walked up to the Judge’s box, and patted his neck. She -congratulated Val—who had just received a commission in the 50th -Regiment, known to be under orders for India. - -‘“You have my best wishes, Mr. Bournefield, and I feel confident that -you will always be in the forefront of the battle, as you have been -to-day—I wish you every success in life!” Val bowed low, and said he -hoped to do honour to her ladyship’s good opinion. So he did, poor -fellow! That is his portrait which hangs in my bedroom.’ - -‘What! the one with all the medals and clasps—such a handsome, -soldierly-looking man. Why, his hair is grey!’ - -‘Yes, he was Colonel Bournefield when he was killed, shot through the -heart, waving his sword, and leading his men on in the Sikh War. He -was only twenty when he won that race.’ - -‘Was he handsome, mother?’ - -‘It was thought so. A very nice-looking boy, with blue eyes and curly -fair hair—full of mischief, and afraid of nothing in the world. Poor -Val! How he would have enjoyed coming with us to-day!’ - -‘Isn’t it fortunate that there is an Australasian horse in the race?’ -said Hermione. ‘I wonder if he has a chance of winning—I must back him -in gloves, if nothing else. What is his name?’ - -‘Moifaa, a New Zealand name; he comes from there, and has won -steeplechases in his own island. What did Eric and Reggie say about -him?’ - -‘They went to see him in his stable, and liked him ever so much—a fine -horse, nearly or quite thorough-bred, with immense power, and a fair -amount of speed. They were going to back him for a moderate amount.’ - -‘Then I vote we do likewise,’ said Hermione, ‘always supposing father -approves. It will give us so much more interest in the race. -Delightful, won’t it be, if we can pay our expenses, and have all the -fun and excitement to the good?’ - -‘Do you agree, mother?’ - -‘We must see what your father says—I daresay he and Eric will look him -well over. Then we may invest with confidence.’ - -‘Really,’ said Vanda, ‘one would think that all these charming -“fixtures” had been arranged specially for our benefit. I never heard -of so many, more or less mixed up with Australians. It’s quite -flattering to our vanity, of which we are supposed to have our share!’ - -‘Not more than English people,’ said Hermione; ‘the difference is, -that we talk more when we win anything, because it is a pleasant -surprise, having been brought up to believe that the British article -is in every department superior. The Englishman disdains to dwell upon -the fact, because his unquestioned excellence in art, science, sport, -and fashion must be (he supposes) admitted by the whole civilised -world!’ - -‘That’s what makes him hated abroad, I suppose?’ - -‘Often unjustly, I have thought,’ interposed Mrs. Banneret. ‘His quiet -manner is translated into supercilious pride, as also his distrust of -casual acquaintances, who may be, and indeed often are, undesirable. -Our Australian habit is quite the reverse, and, as I have more than -once warned you, my dear girls, not always free from disagreeable -developments.’ - -‘Yes, indeed!’ said Vanda; ‘you remember that delightful Sicilian -Count, who turned out to be a cardsharper, or something worse?’ - -The day of the great steeplechase at length arrived. It did not rain, -though it was cold and bleak. It was snowing in Lancashire—so they -heard, but Aintree was dry. However, the Australians were more curious -than alarmed about such a phenomenon. Besides, it gave the girls an -excuse for wearing their furs, which were of the first quality. The -next obvious duty was to scrutinise the competing horses as they came -out in procession. ‘Here is the King’s horse, Ambush II.; he has been -made first favourite,’ said Eric. ‘He won this race in 1900. Isn’t he -a grand animal, and in the very pink of condition—goes out at 7 to 1. -Now, girls, look! Here’s the King himself! come on purpose for us -Cornstalks to see him. Ambush II. is being saddled. His Majesty pats -his neck, and shakes hands with his jock, the well-known -Anthony—wishes him good luck, of course. Isn’t that worth coming all -the way from Australia to see?’ - -‘Very nearly!’ said Vanda, who was eagerly taking in every detail of -this truly astonishing performance. ‘Do you think he will win?’ - -‘There’s no saying,’ replied her brother guardedly; ‘he did win this -race, and so did Manifesto. But they say the stewards have raised the -leaps, or made them stiffer, this year. There is a bit of a row about -it. That gives the Maori horse a better chance.’ - -‘Why?’ - -‘Because the jumps in Australia and New Zealand are notoriously the -biggest and stiffest in the racing world. So the horse that can -“negotiate them with ease to himself and satisfaction to the -lookers-on,” need not fear Aintree, or any course under the sky.’ - -‘But didn’t some gentleman say he considered the course absolutely -unfair?’ - -‘Very likely; but others who had ridden and trained horses at Aintree -saw nothing to complain of.’ - -‘How many starters are there?’ - -‘Twenty-six. What a splendid-looking lot they are!’ - -‘Oh! here comes Reggie! Who is that with him, Eric? He looks nice.’ - -‘He’s a Cambridge chum—same college, and a wonderfully good chap. A -great hunting man in his own county. He’s always wanting us to go and -stay with him at Castle Blake, where there’s no end of shooting and -fishing. We’re going some day, when we can get away. They’re coming -now, and Reggie will introduce him.’ - -At this moment the two young men came up. The stranger was a handsome -young fellow with blue eyes of a daring and romantic character, and -that expression of _abandon_ so characteristic of every man of every -class hailing from the Green Isle—when out for a holiday. - -‘Permit me to present my friend and college chum, Mr. Manus Beresford -Blake, of Castle Blake, in the historic county of Galway. He’s making -believe to study for the Church, though whether he follows up the -profession after he’s taken his degree, I make bold to doubt. In the -meantime, he’s coming to lunch with us, and will explain all about -this race, as I believe he knows every racehorse and steeplechaser in -Ireland.’ - -‘So much the better for us, my dear Reggie,’ said Mrs. Banneret, ‘for -we know scarcely anything, and I feel sure the girls are dying to get -reliable information.’ - -‘Here’s the very man! Manus, my boy! behold two young ladies whose -minds you can store with every kind of useful knowledge about the -noble animal. Only don’t be led into thinking that they are wholly -ignorant of horse- and hound-lore, though they do come from a far -country.’ - -‘I shall wait until our further acquaintance before I presume to add -to the Miss Bannerets’ library of useful knowledge. I presume that -they are accustomed to your vein of humour. Any hints which my -acquaintance with so many honest horses, _not_ quite so honest owners, -enables me to give, I shall be proud to offer.’ - -‘You and Eric have been round the horses, Mr. Blake, I gather,’ said -Hermione. ‘What do you think of our champion, the New Zealander?’ - -‘Moorfowl, is it? for that’s what I heard a bookmaker call him. A fine -horse, there’s no denying it, but I hardly think—I doubt, that is, -whether he’s thorough-bred.’ - -‘Oh, of course,’ broke in Vanda, ‘he’s a colonial horse, and therefore -_can’t_ be good enough to win against an English field! Poor Moifaa! -You’ll see directly’; and the girl’s eyes sparkled, the colour came to -her cheek, as she raised her head defiantly, as if to dare the world -in arms to disparage the steeds of the South. - -‘I didn’t gather that my friend’s family came from Ireland,’ replied -Mr. Blake, with a smile half of challenge, half of admiration, as he -gazed at the eager damsel, whose ardent championship heightened her -beauty so dangerously. ‘But I seem to be accused of British prejudice -before I have had time to assert an opinion of any kind or -description. I merely indicated a doubt, and got no farther, when Miss -Vanda swept me away from my position, before I had time to take one. -That’s a truly Irish statement, isn’t it?’ - -Here all the young people laughed, and Mrs. Banneret gently reproved -the too fervent advocacy of her younger daughter, hoping Mr. Blake -would excuse her on the score of her recent arrival from a far -country. - -That young lady, however, declined to be excused on the ground of -being a savage (so to speak), though she owned that she could not -tamely suffer Moifaa to be depreciated, as it seemed to her, solely on -the ground of his being born outside their sacred England. However, -she apologised, and hoped Mr. Blake would overlook it, on the ground -of her youth and inexperience. - -‘My dear young lady, I’ll overlook _anything_ you are pleased to say! -I take it as the highest compliment to contradict me, any time you -feel in want of a new sensation. And now, shall I say what I think of -this fine upstanding horse from the South?’ - -‘Oh, by all means!’ - -‘Then, remember, we start fair. He’s a grand-looking horse—would be -just the sort to carry my father, who’s sixteen stone, over the Galway -stone walls—but I’m doubtful—no, I’ll say, apprehensive—that he’s “too -big to get the course,” as they say here. Seventeen hands is a big -horse, though his make and shape are almost perfect, I’ll allow, and -finer shoulders I never saw. And so we’ll know more after the -race—I’ll have something to say then.’ - -‘Oh, here comes my father! He was detained in London about matters of -business.’ - -Mr. Banneret had met Mr. Blake at his son’s rooms at Cambridge, so -there was no need of an introduction. He had excellent news from Pilot -Mount, which enabled him to join the family party with even higher -expectations of enjoyment than he had anticipated. - -He brought with him a New Zealand friend, whose successes in land -investment had placed him in a position to indulge himself with what -he called a ‘run home’ every three or four years. Mr. Allan Maclean -was a typical Highlander of the dark-haired, swarthy type, -middle-sized, but broad-shouldered, and sinewy of frame, giving -promise of exceptional strength. He had emigrated to the land of the -Moa and the Maori when a mere boy, had worked hard, and formed so -shrewd an outlook as to the progress of the young colony, that he was -now not only independent, but likely to be, within a few years, one of -the richest men in the South Island. - -‘I suppose this is an interesting race to you, Maclean?’ - -‘Decidedly so—in fact I came home a month earlier chiefly to see it -run. Glendon Spencer is a great friend of mine, and I knew not only -Moifaa, but his dam, Denbigh—a magnificent animal, and a winner of -steeplechases in her day—not unimportant ones either.’ - -‘I heard that you backed him heavily.’ - -‘Well, fairly so. I took thirty to one, in hundreds, from Joe Johnson. -Being early in the market, I got a shade more of the odds. I am not a -betting man, generally; but in this case I felt confident, and stood -to lose a trifle, or win enough to pay my travelling expenses, and -something over.’ - -‘You colonists are a demoralising lot, it must be admitted. Fancy the -example to me dear friend Reggie Banneret, and his brother—poor -innocent Eric! Think of it now! rushing over the South Pacific to see -a race run, and within a few months clearing back again, with £3000 in -your pocket.’ - -‘If the old horse stands up. It’s rather a big “_if_,” isn’t it? But -I’ll trust my luck this time. It’s not the first time I’ve backed him. -I saw him win the Great Northern Steeplechase in Auckland, three -miles and a half, with eleven stone twelve up, as well as the Hawkes -Bay Hurdle Race, carrying twelve stone. He was taken to England, with -the idea of winning this race; and I believe he _will_ win it. Isn’t -that the bell? What a string, to be sure! Twenty-six coloured for the -race. What horses—what people—what a sight! Old England for ever! God -save the King! Here comes His Majesty’s Ambush II. looking his very -best, and Anthony, no less, the proudest jock in Britain this day.’ - -Here they all start for the preliminary canter—what a cheer from the -assembled thousands! Now they are paraded. No time lost at the start. -They are off—off! A deep, wordless hum succeeds, like the surge voice -of a lately aroused ocean, still reminiscent of storm and tempest, -though now the wave and wind be still. ‘Look! Pride of Maberton, Loch -Lomond, and Inquisitor are away, followed by Railoff, who falls at the -first fence. Ambush II. is down at the next.’ Alas! The girls are so -sorry—not that they wished him to win, but to have been among the -gallant few that fought it out to the end. Deerslayer goes on from The -Gunner, and Loch Lomond, and half a dozen others, amongst whom, going -steadily, are Moifaa, Detail, and Manifesto. - -Deerslayer continues to lead over Valentine’s Brook, the next to come -down is May King, after which Honeymoon and Old Town fail to clear the -dry ditch. Now the excitement becomes intense! - -‘Oh, look!’ cries Vanda, ‘at Moifaa. How he is coming up! Well done -the Maori! Aké—Aké—Aké! He has passed Deerslayer—The Gunner and -Kirkland are next, with Nahilla, and a lot of others behind. Look at -that gallant old Manifesto! How easily he takes his jumps!’ - -‘Becker’s Brook—doesn’t Nimrod mention it somewhere?’ said Hermione. -‘Oh, poor Deerslayer is down!—the slayer among the slain. Fortune of -war.’ - -‘Now, Moifaa,’ shouts Allan Maclean, ‘it’s time for you to test your -“mana.” Death or glory! He’s going strong; Kirkland and The Gunner -also. Ambush II., enjoying himself without a rider, keeps well up, but -cannoning into Detail—turns him into “another detail” (_pace_ -Mr. Kipling). There is a fall in the dry ditch. Benvenir breaks down. -Loch Lomond breaks his neck. Moifaa draws clear of Kirkland and The -Gunner on the flat, and, striding along, beats Mr. Bibby’s Kirkland by -_eight_ lengths; The Gunner a neck behind _him_.’ - -‘Who was fourth horse?’ - -‘Shaun Aboo—Robin Hood fifth. Poor dear old Manifesto last!’ concluded -Vanda. ‘“And that’s how the favourite was beat,” as Gordon sings.’ - - * * * * * - -The great race is over. Nothing more until next year. The winners -retire to count up their gains, the losers to calculate how they may -liquidate. This last is a more serious affair. As Moifaa was led in -towards the weighing-stand, a burst of applause greeted horse and -rider. There were very few of the cheering company who had not lost -upon him, but a British crowd is chiefly just, and upholds a fair -field and no favour. - -With regard to the performance, to quote an eminent sporting -authority, ‘no finer exhibition of jumping ability has ever been seen -at Aintree than that afforded by the New Zealand horse. He seemed to -go half a foot higher than anything else in the field, and to land in -the most collected manner. For the last mile it looked like a match -between Moifaa, Kirkland, and The Gunner. But when once on the -race-course, any one could see that Moifaa was a certain winner if he -stood up.’ - -The muster of colonials was alarming. Was there going to be another -Boer War? Indeed, had occasion arisen, a formidable contingent could -have been recruited there and then. North and south, and east and -west—the bronzed, desert-worn, weather-beaten Sons of Empire turned up -in the paddock, never so crowded before. Men were shaking hands -enthusiastically who had last met in Sydney or Melbourne—Perth or -Brisbane—Calcutta, Peshawur, Nigeria, or New South Wales—the back -blocks of Queensland or the northern territory of West Australia, -where the pearling luggers with their Malay crews make high festival -when the ‘shell takes’ are good. - -How far, how widely, the roving Englishman wandered in his quest for -fame or fortune, was abundantly demonstrated by the number and quality -of the ‘Legion that never was listed,’ on that auspicious day. Such -companies and troops—rank upon rank, as they closed round the -champion of the day—the first Australasian horse that had ever won -against Britain’s best ‘chasers,’ in the classic race of world-wide -fame that had no fellow in the contests of horse and man since the -world began. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Mrs. Banneret, recalling her Flemington experiences on Cup Day, had -arranged for a symposium on a novel and comprehensive scale—to take -place after the great event of the day. Notwithstanding the widely -differing conditions of the respective race-courses, she determined, -with the co-operation of her husband and sons, to have something like -a representative Australian function, worthy of her country’s -hospitable customs and of this truly memorable occasion. - -Having persuaded several of their most intimate friends to have their -carriages standing fairly close to each other, a sort of ‘corral’ was -arranged, within which a clear space was left free. - -This gave room for tressels, upon which were placed temporary tables, -rather long and narrow, but capable of holding such meats, wines, and -other refreshments as are usually dispensed at races. Of course some -diplomatic management was necessary to carry through an innovation -foreign to the traditionary, time-honoured habitudes of English -race-goers. With the help of a few extra police (the Inspector had -been in Australia) and a small army of waiters, supplied by the -caterer, a reasonable compromise was arrived at. A calculation was -made, by which it could be demonstrated that if even a third more than -the number of expected guests arrived, they could be supplied with -seats and a liberal supply of the delicacies of the season, together -with a few glasses of ‘Dry Monopole,’ or, having regard to the lower -temperature of Britain, with a ‘touch of the real Mackay.’ - -It was well that the calculation did not fail on the elastic side; for -when it leaked out that Arnold Banneret, sometime of Carjagong, New -South Wales, and more recently of Pilot Mount, West Australia, was -entertaining his friends, had won largely, indeed, on the victory of -Moifaa, it was wonderful what a number of colonists turned up. Among -them were Lord Newstead and his lovely wife, the latter in her -priceless Russian sables, and otherwise appropriately adorned. She was -so glad to meet her husband’s kind, good friends, whose chance meeting -with Percy and poor dear Southwater had been so fortunate for both. -She hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Banneret and the girls would pay her a -visit at Newstead. As for Mr. Reginald and Mr. Eric, if they could -spare the time, they would know—young men being so scarce just now—how -welcome they would be at her country house, or, indeed, any other. She -believed she would really take a run over to that delightful Golden -West some day—where, apparently, the precious metal was lying about in -heaps, waiting to be picked up. - -‘Not quite so easy a game as that,’ said his Lordship—‘eh, -Mr. Banneret? Little accidents like fever, “robbery under arms,” -hunger and thirst, intervene sometimes _before_ the discovery of Tom -Tiddler’s Ground, or Pilot Mount. We both had a look-in from the fever -fiend—a “close call,” too, as our Yankee friends say—and but for that -tender nursing—why, bless my soul! you don’t say?—it can’t be! Well, -of all the people in the world who’d have ever thought of seeing _you_ -here!’ and upon this excited exclamation, Percy, Lord Newstead, rushed -forward, and accosting a pair of rather distinguished-looking persons, -seized the lady by the hand, and shook it effusively, somewhat to the -surprise of her companion, who had evidently never seen his Lordship -before. Lady Newstead, too, looked slightly curious until her husband, -almost dragging the strange lady with him, said, ‘My dear, allow me to -introduce to you Mrs. Lilburne, who saved my life in West Australia, -and to whom you owe your present possession of my unworthy self. There -was _one night_ on which I never thought to see England again, I -assure you.’ - -‘My dear Percy, you needn’t be quite so demonstrative. Mrs. Lilburne -looks almost alarmed. I quite agree with you in believing that we -should never have met here but for her great care and kindness. -Really, Mrs. Lilburne, I think I should have recognised you even -without Percy’s assistance—he has so often described you to me. But I -see Mrs. Banneret is laying claim to a share of your attention; so I -think we had better do honour now to the lunch, to which we were all -so kindly invited. Mr. Lilburne is wondering where _he_ comes in. I -see we must make common cause. I am anxious to hear some of _your_ -adventures, which I am told are too thrilling.’ - -‘I should be charmed, Lady Newstead—they were rather unusual; but my -wife and I have entered into a solemn compact that I am not to divulge -the secrets of the prison-house. She has the copyright—if I may use -the term—and to her alone belongs the right to disclose that strange -passage of my life. In the meantime, we are both quite well, and more -than happy. Permit me to offer to fill your glass with our mutual -friends’ excellent champagne, and to wish them continued health and -unclouded happiness.’ - -Lady Newstead accepted the invitation, and they moved over to a -position nearer their hostess, who, with the aid of the head of the -house and the younger branches of the family, was ably discharging her -manifold duties. - -Just then Mr. Banneret, whose ordinarily calm manner seemed to have -acquired an accession of gaiety from the influence of the scene, had -been explaining to Lady Woods, who, recently arrived from Perth, had -assumed her well-known character of ‘the life and soul of the party,’ -how delighted he and his wife were to find so many old friends able to -keep high festival with them this day. - -‘If I could (borrowing a joke from the “Goldfields Act and -Regulations,” which I used to know by heart) obtain a Booth License to -dispense wines and spirits, I should be inclined to call this the -“Inn of Strange Meetings”—inasmuch as the number of friends and -acquaintances who have “come up” from the Under World, as Tennyson -hath it, is like an army with banners. Not only from the inmost -deserts, but—and here’ (his face changing suddenly as he spoke) ‘comes -one from the grave itself.’ - -With these words he hailed a tall man sauntering past, who, dressed in -the height of the reigning race-course fashion, in no respect -diverging from the canon of ‘good form’ in raiment or otherwise, bore -yet an exceptional and striking personality. - -‘Tena koe, Captain, haere mai.’ - -A Maori response immediately followed, as the person addressed, -drawing himself up, bent a pair of stern blue eyes upon his -interlocutor, while Arnold Banneret, whose expression was compounded -in almost equal parts of welcome and wonder, fear and amazement, gazed -anxiously upon the stranger’s countenance. The new-comer was tall, -considerably indeed above the height of men ordinarily thus described, -though his broad chest and athletic frame caused his unusual height to -be less apparent. His bronzed cheek was traversed by a scar, ‘a token -true of Bosworth Field,’ or other engagement, where shrewd blows had -been exchanged. - -‘Glad to see you again,’ said the host. ‘Waiter, bring -Captain—Captain——’ - -‘Bucklaw,’ interposed the stranger guest—‘been back to the old place.’ - -‘Of course, of course, quite natural!’ continued his entertainer; -‘bring Captain Bucklaw champagne.’ - -The glasses were not small, having been specially ordered, and as the -gallant Captain drained his, he clinked glasses with his host, and, -with a glance which combined an air of reckless daring with a savour -of almost schoolboy mischief, he said: ‘It’s not necessary to say, -Judge, that I’m here incog.—Captain Bucklaw, of the steamer _Haitchi -Maru_, with British-owned cargo, and passenger steamer now at anchor -below Gravesend, cleared from San Francisco, is not to be mistaken for -the captain of the _Leonora_ beneath the blue wave of Chabrat Harbour. -I brought over a cargo of rice, and take back one of flour with, of -course, sundries, not particularly named in the manifest. She’s faster -than most “tramps,” and carries five guns—two of them No. 7 -quick-firers.’ - -‘And so you came to England to see a steeplechase?’ - -‘That is so—or rather, being in England again, I thought I would have -a look at the great race that everybody was talking about. Heard, too, -that there was a New Zealand horse in it. You know that we Southerners -are death on horse-racing. That time you and I met at Opononi, Captain -John Webster’s place on the Hokianga (I bought a cargo of Kauri timber -from him), I went to the race meeting at Auckland, where we were -filling up with frozen lamb. I was struck then with the make and shape -of horses bred at Mount Eden—saw Carbine, too. What a horse that was! -Now in England, I hear. So I backed Moifaa, like the other flax and -manuka men, and made money enough almost to buy a new ship.’ - -‘But, Captain, how is it that we see you here, or indeed anywhere -else, in _the flesh_? We heard that——’ - -‘Yes, I know—been dead nearly three years. Knocked on the head and -thrown overboard by a rascally cook’s mate. Dead, of course. Blue -shark’s meat, and so on.’ - -‘That part is true, then?’ - -‘Yes, I _was_ stunned and thrown overboard by that scoundrel and the -boatswain together. But I was not drowned—far from it. The water -brought me to, and I struck out for an island that I knew in that -latitude; and, fortunately, before I got near enough to the reef for -the sharks to sample me, I was picked up by a canoe, with natives, -crossing from one island to another. - -‘They took me to their village, where I lived for six months. Reported -dead, of course. So I concluded to stay dead. It’s not a bad thing, -now and then. I was taken off by a whaler, and landed at Valparaiso to -begin life afresh as Captain Bucklaw, and got a new ship when this -Russo-Jap War broke out; and now stand a chance of dying an Admiral of -the Japanese Fleet. But say—isn’t that my passenger of the _Leonora_ -from Molokai to Ponapé and ports? Don Carlos Alvarez? Suppose we fire -a gun across his bows, and bring him to? Who’s the handsome woman he’s -talking to?’ - -‘His wife—the celebrated Nurse Lilburne, of Pilot Mount, Kalgoorlie, -West Australia, who saved more lives in the typhoid fever epidemic -than all the doctors on the field.’ - -‘Is that so? Then I’m proud of having been the means of bringing her -best patient back to her. Hope he’ll stay _put_. The buccaneer has -more than one good deed to his account; maybe the recording angel -won’t forget to post that one up!’ - -‘Oh, Captain, is that you? We heard you were dead—how grieved Alister -and I were after parting with you.’ - -‘I was reported missing for six months, señora!’ said he, with a low -bow, and the fascinating smile, half melancholy, half remorseful, -which had proved so irresistible in his path through life. ‘It is -nearly the same thing—sometimes worse indeed—meaning slavery, -tortures, indignities; but occasionally, though rarely, one escapes, -through the mediation of his Patron Saint, let us say, and has once -more the honour to salute his friends—and passengers!’ - -By this time Mrs. Banneret had moved closer to the romantic personage, -to whom she was made known in due form; and the younger members of the -family having come up, lured by the report that the tall stranger was -a pirate of the Spanish main—or some such dark and terrible adventurer -analogous to fascinating outlawry, they were presented severally, but -kept gazing as if spellbound, congratulating themselves upon having -seen—even if it were for but once in their lives—a real-life -accredited delightful pirate! - -‘Such a handsome man!’ said Hermione. ‘It’s not that alone—though, of -course, he _is_ very handsome, and he has beautiful eyes, that look -right through you, and has immense strength, plain for all men to see. -But there’s the calm dignity of command, a birthright never to be -acquired. You feel that such a man _must_ be obeyed; that no one would -_dare_ to resist for one moment. No doubt he has shed blood—which is -dreadful to think of—but he has saved life also, and done many -merciful and charitable actions—if we only knew.’ - -‘Oh, yes! scores, hundreds,’ said Vanda: ‘carried starving crowds of -natives away from their islands when the crops had failed; picked up -canoes at sea when they were beginning to cast lots for one to die to -save the rest; and——’ - -‘Don’t tell me any more,’ pleaded Hermione. ‘I can’t bear it.’ - -‘And they say that if he was arrested he could be thrown into prison -for offences against maritime law—whatever that may be. He _was_ -arrested at Honolulu, and was a prisoner upon a British man-of-war.’ - -‘Yes!’ cried Vanda; ‘but they couldn’t prove anything against him. So -they had to let him go again, and he gave a ball afterwards. So he -couldn’t have done anything very wicked. He sings, and plays on the -violin, and guitar too. What a draw he would be in opera!’ - -‘Mrs. Lilburne says she will _never_ forget his kindness to her -husband. He got him away from that dreadful island, where he would -have died. So would she. She had a great mind to commit suicide, and -was only kept alive by the incessant work in the hospital at Pilot -Mount, where she nursed father, and Lord Newstead, and lots of poor -miners.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -‘Really,’ said Vanda, ‘when we want to see our Australian friends, the -proper thing is to come to England. We have certainly met more in a -month here than we ever did in a year in the colonies.’ - -‘And we never should have fallen across Captain Hay——I beg his pardon, -Captain Bucklaw in Australia,’ assented Hermione. ‘I wonder what will -be his end. Something romantic and far from peaceful, I feel certain. -Oh, here he comes to say good-bye! Why can’t he stay another day, I -wonder?’ - -‘Reasons of State! The Captain never stays long in one place, I’ve -remarked,’ said Mr. Lilburne, who, with his wife, now joined them. ‘He -had a wire from his agent that the cargo was complete, and the -_Haitchi Maru_ only waiting for her commander.’ - -Mr. and Mrs. Banneret now came forward, while the Lilburnes shook -hands warmly with the man who had been their friend in need, whatever -might have been his career under other circumstances. - -‘_We_ shall never forget you,’ said Mrs. Lilburne; ‘you saved two -lives when you rescued Alister from that inferno.’ - -‘The Captain knows he may count on us whenever he likes to call,’ said -her husband. ‘We hope to be able to repay him in kind.’ - - ‘It was time for us to go, my lads; - It was time for us to go,’ - -said he, chaunting the refrain of an old sailor-song, in deep -melodious tones. ‘I have never yet been caught napping, but, believe -me, this meeting of true friends will be among the most precious -memories of a reckless life, and if any of the present company should -find themselves in danger on sea, or land, within a hundred miles of -this skipper, he’ll effect a diversion if it’s in the power of mortal -man. But, after all, it’s a ten-to-one chance we never meet again. -Think of me as one who might have been a better man with better luck. -Adios, señora. Adios, Don Carlos Alvarez. Adios, señoritas.’ Here he -shook hands once more with the men, and bowing low to the girls and -Mrs. Banneret, strode away to a swift hansom which awaited him, and -disappeared from their eyes. - -There was a peculiar feeling, somewhat allied to regret, yet perhaps -even more to relief, when their picturesquely lawless friend took his -departure. This sentiment was shared in lesser degree by the older, -more experienced individuals of the party. But the girls were frankly -grieved at the loss of so romantic an acquaintance—the tears, indeed, -coming into Vanda’s eyes as she realised that she could hardly hope -to know ‘a real pirate’ again. - -‘Do you think he really _was_ engaged in the Black Flag -business—death’s head and crossbones, and so on?’ queried Eric. - -‘I don’t think that was ever proved,’ answered Lilburne; ‘more likely -a trifle of privateering, or “blackbirding,” as labour-recruiting was -called in the early days of the Queensland sugar-planting industry. -But there _was_ a warrant out for him, and, indeed, for Hilary -Telfer—that tall, fair man standing near Mrs. Banneret with his lovely -wife; he was supercargo on board the famous _Leonora_.’ - -‘What a beautiful creature she is!’ said Hermione; ‘what a figure, -what eyes, and such a face, lit up by a charming smile! She is -something like a Spanish girl we saw at Santa Barbara, and yet not -quite the same type—far more beautiful, with grace personified. I -can’t quite place her.’ - -‘She is a descendant of Lieutenant Fletcher Christian, the leader of -the mutineers of the _Bounty_, who disappeared somewhere about the -year 1788, and formed that very interesting community at Pitcairn -Island. They were not discovered until September 1808, when Captain -Folger, of the American ship _Topaz_, seeing smoke rising from an -island, from which a canoe was approaching, was hailed by the -occupants in good Saxon English. “Won’t you heave us a rope, now?” was -the request from the frail bark, and, a rope being thrown out, a fine -young man sprang actively on deck. “I’m Thursday October Christian,” -he said modestly, “son of Fletcher Christian, and the first man born -on the island.” H.M.S. the _Briton_ and the _Tagus_—the former -commanded by Sir T. Staines—were in search of an American ship which -had seized some English whalers, when they suddenly came in sight of -an uncharted island. It was Pitcairn, but should have been two hundred -miles distant—being placed on the chart by Captain Carteret (who -discovered it in 1767) three degrees out of its true longitude.’ - -‘It seems almost incredible,’ said Mr. Banneret, ‘that a canoe carried -on a man’s shoulders should be safely handled amidst such terrific -surges, but I recollect seeing Australian aboriginals at Two-fold Bay -carrying their bark canoes _on their heads_ to the water, and fishing -successfully when it was by no means smooth. English-speaking -strangers proved themselves to be unsurpassed boatmen—to be recognised -in the aftertime as such amongst the best whalemen in the world. -Twenty years had elapsed since Fletcher Christian and his mutineer -associates, with their Tahitian wives, had left Mataavai Bay. During -the whole of that time the actors in the tragedy had disappeared from -mortal ken as completely as if they had been sunk “deeper than plummet -lies,” with their broken-up and abandoned vessel the _Bounty_.’ - -In 1808 Captain Mayhew Folger first came upon the little community of -Pitcairn Island; in 1814 the Anglo-Tahitians had increased to the -number of forty. Nothing was done by the British Government until -1825, when Captain Beechey, in the _Blossom_, on a voyage of -discovery, paid a visit to Pitcairn Island. A boat under sail was -observed coming towards the ship. The crew consisted of old Adams and -ten young men of the island. The young men were tall, robust, and -healthy, with good-natured countenances, and a simplicity of manner -combined with a fear of doing something that might be wrong, which -prevented the possibility of giving offence. None of them had shoes or -stockings. Adams, in his sixty-fifth year, was dressed in a sailor’s -shirt and trousers, and wore a low-crowned hat. He still retained his -sailor manners, doffing his hat whenever he was addressed by the -officers. - -Sir Thomas Staines’s letter, written on 18th October 1814, stated that -every individual on the island (forty in number) spoke excellent -English. They proved to be the descendants of the deluded crew of the -_Bounty_. The venerable old man, John Adams, was the only surviving -Englishman of those who last quitted Tahiti in her. The pious manner -in which all those born on the island had been reared, and the correct -sense of religion which had been instilled into their young minds by -the old man, had given him the pre-eminence over the whole of them. -And to him they looked up as the Patriarch of their tribe. - - * * * * * - -The great day, the great race was over. The Australian family had -enjoyed their modest triumph in seeing the good horse from a sister -colony win the blue ribbon of the great cross-country contest, coming -in victorious over hedge and ditch, brook and rail, with the best -blood of England eight lengths behind. That was an honour which could -never be taken away from them. In years to come any of them would be -able to say, ‘I saw Moifaa sweep over the four miles and a half of a -stiff course (as English people reckon) with as much ease as if it had -been a hurdle race. And until we see an imported horse from England -win a steeplechase at Flemington, we shall be entitled to hold that -the horses bred south of the line possess unequalled speed, stoutness, -and jumping ability.’ - -From the far ocean-surrounded islands of the south land, where still -linger the traces of the moa, and the apteryx perplexes the tourist, -to the torrid levels of the West Australian fields, where the miner’s -harvest is weighed and reckoned in ounces of fine gold, the love of -athletic sports, which the British emigrants carried with them, has -caused their representative champions to be respected from India to -the Pole. - -After this equine battle of Waterloo it was, of course, natural for -the victorious Austro-Britons to fall back upon their base in -London—the Hotel Cecil, where they and the Allied Forces might arrange -for future operations during the spring and summer campaigns. - -The Bannerets were not, as may be imagined, without acquaintances, -and, indeed, friends of long standing in high places. Cadets of noble -houses had visited Australia in the early ’fifties (1852 to 1856), -when the goldfields of Ballarat and Bendigo, Eaglehawk and -Maryborough, were at their marvellous height of productiveness; -where, also, the purchase of a few shares overnight might result in a -fortune before breakfast for the investor. Besides such glimpses into -Aladdin’s cave, there was the entirely new spectacle of goldfields, -where the precious metal might be seen in the matrix, and the -operations for its extraction by chance workers of every degree of -age, nationality, or occupation witnessed. It was a fascinating and -novel experience to watch the process in shallow ground, hardly less -primitive than the ordinary digging of potatoes: to mark the runaway -sailors, farm hands, shepherds, or stock-riders, joking the while, as -they occasionally threw up a ten- or twenty-ounce ‘nugget’ of almost -pure gold, worth £4 per ounce, or a lump of the gold-studded quartz, -to the tourist bystander peering down the edge of the shaft, with the -touching confidence that it would be punctiliously returned, after -being wondered at, and perhaps weighed, by the obliged stranger. Such -things sound improbable, but are, nevertheless, strictly, rigidly -true, as can be avouched by any miner of the period. The neighbouring -squatters, in a general way men of birth and breeding, had been -pleased to welcome these agreeable strangers to their homes, where, -the daughters of the land being often handsome and attractive, the -stranger guest had no particular objection to prolonging his stay when -his hosts and other neighbouring magnates were so anxious to secure -his society. - -Lord Salisbury was known to have lived in a tent, with a friend or -two, _more Australico_, and personally, as ‘Mr. Cecil,’ studied the -humours of a ‘rush’ near Bendigo. As he did not stay long or, -presumably, make a fortune, he probably consoled himself with the -reflection that he had gained the rare experience of a personal -examination of a vast colonial industry at first hand, which would be -valuable in forming political opinion as to the treatment of British -colonies, under new and original conditions. In the light of his -Lordship’s ministerial responsibilities in later life, perhaps it was -well for him that he should be in a position to observe the process of -formation of a British state, with municipal, mercantile, civil, and -military functions, of a character befitting the Empire, evolved from -the heterogeneous components of a goldfields population. How doubtful, -how improbable, that order, achievement, high attainment, should ever -have been so produced, contemporary journalists and visitors have left -on record. For the proof, _respice finem_, behold the tree-shaded -street, broad, straight, tram-pervaded, at Ballarat; the lake where -formerly the wild duck swam amid the reedy marsh; the steamers thereon -which equalise the traffic; the gardens where the weary tourist may -rest, or read, upon a bench prepared by the municipalities, while he -gazes around on the wide transformed landscape. Naval officers, cadets -of great houses, budding field-marshals, had all been temporarily -adopted at Arnold Banneret’s paternal home. The middies were now, some -of them, admirals; the Honourable Mr. Sedley and Mr. Villiers were now -barons and earls, having ‘come into their kingdoms,’ so to speak. - -They did not forget the friends who had dined and mounted them, -provided shooting and hunting parties, thought nothing too good for -them; and invitations flowed into the Hotel Cecil for garden parties, -dances, dinners—in fact, all the gaieties of the season. - -And what a season it was! ‘Oh to be in England, now that April’s -here!’ For the nonce it was a fine, warm, even _dry_ summer, which -enhanced the green glory of the century-old oaks, the ‘immemorial -elms,’ and the various flowers of the great parks and also of the -natural woodland. What joy it was to these young people to wander with -their brothers along the ‘leafy lanes, where the trees met overhead, -when the merry brooks ran clear and gay’! To note, lying underneath -the aged oaks, the skylark rising from the field, and pealing his -matin song of gladness. - - ‘Hark, hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings, - And Phœbus ’gins arise, - His steeds to water at those springs - On chaliced flowers that lies; - And winking Mary-buds begin - To ope their golden eyes: - With everything that pretty is, - My lady sweet, arise!’ - -quoted Hermione. - -Then the wild-flowers: what a feast of plant life! What various -colour, shape, bloom—of every shade and tint, from the dingle, ‘where -the rath violets grow,’ to the daffodil bank, by the sun-kissed lake. -‘Isn’t that delicious?’ said Hermione; ‘who but our Shakespeare could -have pictured so delightfully the lovely summer of old England, with -the hedgerows and the pastures all glistening with dew! That dear lark -is coming down again—a living song, floating through the blue ocean of -sky—singing as he falls. Then at last dropping like a stone into the -field—I saw him close to that patch of red clover.’ - -‘But _we_ have skylarks in Australia,’ said Vanda, who objected to -unqualified praise of England for being England; ‘our bird doesn’t fly -so high, certainly, and stops more quickly, but he sings a sweet -little tuneful lay. He has not had a thousand years in which to -practise.’ - -This colloquy took place one morning before breakfast, at which -unusual time, about 5 A.M., these young people elected to get up, for -once in a way, that they might be enabled to say they had seen an -English sunrise, and heard an English skylark. They were staying at an -old—ever so old English hall, where everything was in keeping with -tradition and history. The century-old oaks were there; the forest was -the same, mercifully spared, and lovingly tended; the aged oaks were -the immediate descendants of those under which Gurth and Wamba lay and -chaunted their roundelay when Bois-Guilbert, the Templar of the -period, inquired the way to Rotherwood, and was directed all wrong by -the eccentric Wamba. - -Yes! there were the oaks, huge of girth, mighty of spread and shade, -and clothed to the very tips of their enormous branches with delicate -leaflets, bursting buds, and every variety of leafage which goes to -furbish up the glorious green garb of an English spring. - -Now that the spring had arrived, the real English spring—written -about, talked about, sung about by everybody that had ever been in -England, or read about the great and glorious Motherland—they were all -mad with hope and expectation, also with ardent desire to go in and -possess the land of faerie. Fortunately, for once, the climate did not -betray them. The weather continued fine and open. Frosts were few and -far between. The grass in the meadows, thick and verdant, spread a -velvet garment over all the land. Over the fields around stood ancient -farm-houses, near villages with names as old as the Norman Conquest. -Around were ruined abbeys and crumbling spires, besides bridges over -brooks, where swam the fat carp which had tempted the monks to sink -their foundations first, and to follow up with the stately piles, -which sheltered so many a lordly abbot and his train of cowled -brethren, lay and spiritual, with servitors, tenants, and retainers, -military and otherwise. - -All this strengthened the desire of the Bannerets to establish -themselves in a country residence, whence they might issue forth in -quest of the more desirable entertainments, at the same time -preserving the home feeling, and having a _pied à terre_ which would -give them standing in the county superior to that of mere birds of -passage. - -The girls of the family, now that the spring was distinctly on, and -the summer, by natural course of nature, might be expected to follow, -desired no change. They felt, and indeed repeatedly affirmed, that -their cup of joy was full—that they never expected to be so truly, -consciously, ecstatically happy. Every night Hermione and Vanda -retired, after a day filled with novel and delicious sensations, to -dream of a new kind of felicity on the morrow; a forecast the reality -of which rarely disappointed them. Their parents occasionally uttered -a note of warning as to the too eager pursuit of pleasure, and the -need of moderation even, on the score of health. But there was small -reason for caution on that score: the young people had exceptionally -strong constitutions—sound, unworn, and elastic, with all the -marvellous recuperative power of early youth. Their cousins and -friends in the country districts of Australia had been known to ride -thirty or forty miles to a ball, at which to dance until daylight -afterwards, with but little or no fatigue. They belonged to the same -type, and were not a whit behind them in endurance, defying fatigue or -lassitude where pleasure or interesting travel was concerned. So all -manner of recreative experiences had been tested—hackneys for the -park, rides and drives, concerts and theatres, balls and parties, -receptions given by certain returned Governors, to whom they had been -socially known in Australia. These proconsuls lost no time in inviting -them to entertainments where they met various great ones of the land, -to whom it was explained that they were really ‘nice’—distinguished -even in a sense, and ever so rich—owning gold mines of unquestioned, -almost fabulous richness. - -There was then no difficulty about invitations and engagements; the -trouble was to keep up with them all, and so arrange that they did not -clash, and at the same time to find out the right people at whose -entertainments to be ‘seen.’ They were naturally popular in this new -environment, with more or less foreign elements. The girls were voted -pretty (Hermione, indeed, was very handsome), well dressed, well -mannered, and above all ‘nice’—that mysterious adjective which goes -for so much in English society. The young men, too, were good-looking, -well turned out, and so closely resembling Englishmen of their age and -standing, that surprise was expressed that they should be Australians, -there being no peculiarity of accent, or appearance, betokening their -colonial origin. They were also athletic beyond average form—being -skilled at tennis, cricket, and other fashionable games. - -Now the vitally important matter next on hand was the selection of a -home. Mr. Banneret, after due consideration, had decided to invest in -an estate. The Hotel Cecil was well managed, comfortable, even -luxurious. It was, of course, expensive, even perhaps extravagant. But -that was not the reason for disapproval. Money was no object, as the -phrase runs. - -Still, Arnold Banneret and his wife disliked hotel life _en -permanence_. The continual change of acquaintances, with whom a -certain sort of association was almost impossible to avoid, was -distasteful to them. They did not, as their experience matured, think -it, in all respects, beneficial to the girls. For them and their -brothers they wished to re-create the home feeling. They longed for -the change once more to peaceful country life—where they might live -among such neighbours as made the chief rural luxury, and secure, if -such might be, valuable and enduring friendships. - -To this end it was decided to _buy_ an estate. Leased houses, with -perhaps suitable grounds, furniture, and belongings, were all very -well in their way. But people’s ideas about furniture and other -matters differed widely sometimes. And, at the delivering-up day, -misunderstandings were likely to arise—had arisen within their -experience. Thus it was decided to buy. They could then comfort -themselves with knowing that they were safely settled for years to -come—could not be turned out by the whim of the proprietor, or any one -else. And if the worst came to the worst, and circumstances compelled -them to return to their own country, they could, of course, re-sell; -and as estates in England, valuable and well placed, did not vary much -in value, they could get their money back without serious deduction. - -The girls at first did not take kindly to the idea. They found their -present mode of existence much to their taste. But their mother had -with some regret observed that a subtle change was taking place in the -character of her daughters. Constant amusement, of course, they had no -difficulty in procuring. It was furnished without effort on their -part. But it pained her to discover that an alteration of taste was -even now showing itself. They did not care so much for the more -rational forms of amusement; they began to crave more and more for -excitement; and provided that it was of a sufficiently novel and -bizarre nature, they seemed, to her watchful eye, to be growing more -and more careless of surroundings, and of the status of the people -with whom they were necessarily associated. - -In order to combat this feeling, and to render the departure from the -Hotel Cecil, and its continuous round of gaieties, less depressing, -Mrs. Banneret began diplomatically to descant upon the more -permanently attractive features of English country life,—the ancient -trees, the historical associations of the manor-house and the grounds; -the neighbouring gentry, the hunting fixtures, the pleasant parties -made up for shooting, coursing, fishing, and other time-honoured -sports, for the performance of which desirable guests would be brought -down from town or invited from neighbouring families; the archery -meetings, after which it was the fashion of the county to have -impromptu dances; the hounds on the lawn, the distinguished -personages, the aristocratic M.F.H., the ‘coffee-house’ feature of the -meets, the hunting women, the road riders, their friends, and other -people’s friends, the garden parties—in short, all the hundred and one -pleasant meetings, half sport, half business, which only a country -life could adequately provide. - -‘Think,’ she said, ‘my dear girls, what a different life it would be -for us all! Your father is pining for a return to regular home life, -such as he and I enjoyed when you were little, and which, in spite of -the troubles of a Gold Commissioner’s life, we even now look back upon -as our happiest days. He wants to have a decent stable, a couple of -hacks, a brace or two of hunters; his phaeton pair, and a dogcart -horse; a landau for me and you on great occasions; a safe hunter -apiece for you girls, and perhaps another, or so, for a friend. -Besides, with a moderate-sized estate—ten or twelve thousand acres—he -can enjoy some shooting and amateur farming, which will give him -healthy exercise—he doesn’t get enough now, and it’s bad for him. He’s -getting too stout; you see that yourselves, don’t you? Then we shall -be the Bannerets of Hexham Hall. I feel quite like the Lady of the -Manor already.’ - -As the good matron kept summing up the joys of this ideal life—the -glorious awakening in the fresh, sweet atmosphere of the country, the -song of the birds, the dewy lawns—the girls watched her face glow and -her eyes sparkle with almost youthful lustre. They could bear the -situation no longer. - -‘Mother! dear mother!’ cried Hermione, ‘don’t go on—I can’t bear it. -We have been wicked, selfish girls not to have seen it before. I -thought you and father had been looking out of spirits lately. I see -now how it was telling on you. We’ll go, Vanda, wherever we are told. -It’s a shame that we should have had to be asked. Only we must have a -family council before the place—the manor, the castle, or whatever it -is to be—is finally decided upon. It can’t be so very dreadful after -all.’ - -‘Dreadful!’ cried Vanda; ‘it’s delicious. I’ll undertake the dairy—and -we must have lots of lovely tiles, and such cream-pans, and a floor -like glass, and walls that can be washed down twice a day. The next -thing is to find the Castle of Otranto. Will there be ruins, ghosts, -and a helmet to fall down with a crash? I must have vaults, too, and a -secret passage, where the former lord of the castle was concealed when -the Roundheads sacked it. And such a range of stabling, too! I must -have two hunters if I am to keep up my riding.’ - -The sons gave their unhesitating opinion in favour of the estate. Land -was cheap in England at present—many of the owners being only too glad -to get rid of property which paid ridiculously low in interest on -capital, and was year by year involving the so-called proprietor in -heavier expense. As to the value of a large historic family mansion, -it was looked upon as the proverbial white elephant, which the owners -would be only too pleased to get rid of, once and for ever. - -Then the choice—that was the difficulty. Arnold Banneret shuddered -when he thought of the scores of desirable places, old and -half-ruinous, ill-drained, decayed, damp, smothered in ivy, shaded by -vast growths of world-old groves that it would be sacrilege to cut -down, and death by slow and gradual process to leave unaltered. The -new mansion ghastly with stucco—redolent of fresh paint—the mistaken -ambition of the manufacturer, tired of so soon after the contractor -was paid, and disgracefully new like the baronetcy; these and other -failures, like Banquo’s line of shadowy kings, passed before him in -review, until he almost resolved to cut the whole concern and go back -to Australia, where, at any rate, one could enjoy one’s life in peace. -This was after a long day’s rail to examine an over-praised, -over-valued, highly unsuitable investment, with too much house and too -little land—both being indecently inferior in quality, besides being -in a dull and undesirable county. - -‘It was thought,’ declared the agent, ‘that it would just suit a -gentleman from Australia, being a bit wild-like, and not too trim and -polished up, as it were.’ He seemed surprised at being curtly informed -that a man did not come all the way from Australia to encumber himself -with an indifferent house and exceptionally bad land, as the attempts -at crops plainly showed; that he had been misled by the advertisement, -and would be sorry to take the place as a gift. - -This was a bad beginning, but his wife comforted him by saying that -she could see that he had been so bored by inaction that he was -evidently glad of the chance of taking a journey _somewhere_, if only -to end in disappointment; that she was glad to see that he had so much -of his old energy left; that she must go with him next time, when -better counsels would prevail, and success attend them eventually. - -At length, after tedious delays and disappointing inspections of every -kind of country house—mansion, manor, and historic castellated -abode—even including a moat, an altogether satisfactory purchase was -effected. The place was historic, a royal princess had lived there -under strict guardianship during her nonage. The place was certainly -far from modern in outward appearance, but the interior had been -restored tastefully, and in accordance with the latest requirements, -by the owner, who, having fallen upon evil times, was only too pleased -to take a moderate price in cash for a property which, with costly -renovation and additions, had cost a third more than the sale price. -When the probable purchaser and his wife ran down by train to have a -full and leisurely inspection, they were more pleased than they cared -to show at the _coup d’œil_. - -It was the early forenoon. The day was fine—the air mild, almost -breezeless; the great oaks, the venerable elms, the ancient walls -which surrounded the ‘pleasaunce,’ gave the whole place the look of a -monarch’s retreat for the time when he might wish to rest from the -cares of State and enjoy a rare solitude, apart from the crowding -cares of sovereignty and the distraction of churchmen and contending -nobles. - -Such indeed had Hexham Hall been in the days of old. Princesses had -lived there in the time of their tutelage—princesses who must have -chafed, and perhaps cherished rebellious thoughts; perhaps dreamed -over the policy which they would carry out when they became queens—for -queens they did become in due course of time, and having uncontrolled -power, they did carry out that policy; nor was blood spared in the -process which a lofty and fearless ideal of the ‘might, majesty, and -dominion’ of Britain demanded. An estate of twelve thousand acres went -with the property. - -It was favourably situated in the matter of sport and social centres. -Several packs of hounds met within easy distance. The shooting was -good, and had been carefully preserved. There was a trout stream such -as would have delighted the heart of the ‘Compleat Angler,’ -particularly a stretch of water not far from a ruined mill, which, -owing to latter-day mechanical inventions, had been put out of -commission. - -There was a gamekeeper who went with the estate, and whose keen, -courageous expression at once enlisted the sympathies of the younger -Australians. His cottage, his neatly dressed wife and children, with -their air of deep respectfulness and old-fashioned curtseys, delighted -them beyond mention. The coops with young pheasants—the lovely setters -and retrievers—private property of the keeper—such a dear feudal name, -as Vanda observed: these were some of the new possessions which went -far to reconcile the daughters of the house to their removal from the -Hotel Cecil, with its endless joys. - -The purchase of the baronial residence of Hexham Hall had been carried -to completion with marvellous ease and celerity. - -The Bannerets’ legal representative had met the family lawyer of the -Hexham properties, and after certain conferences, with more or less -courteous but pointed argument, a cheque signed by Arnold Banneret -for the largest amount ever drawn by him was handed over, in exchange -for which acquittances and title-deeds, some of curiously ancient -date, were deposited in Messrs. Close and Carforth’s deed-box. - -The Australian family now felt themselves to be invested with all -manner of feudal attributes; not perhaps quite including the privilege -of ‘pit and gallows,’ but, for all that, delightfully autocratic of -flavour and suggestion. They began to feel reconciled. - -After the removal from town, which was effected with exceptional speed -and completeness, a rearrangement of the furniture was, of course, -necessary. The owner, an impoverished Earl with a family, had lived on -the Continent for years past. He therefore welcomed the possession of -so large a sum in cash, a portion of which, much to his private -gratification, he was enabled to devote to the clearing off of -long-standing debts, as well as to matters of family convenience. Lord -Hexham, indeed, came over from Bruges to ratify all arrangements made -by agents and representatives, and to have, as he explained to -Mr. Banneret, a short ‘run up to town on his own,’ so as to look in at -his clubs, to escape the monotony of the life at Bruges, which, though -economically prudent, was far from entertaining. ‘Nothing to do, day -after day, but to look at that confounded Cathedral, which I know by -heart—and all the Johnnies rave about till it’s perfectly sickenin’. -Never cared much about architecture—hardly know whether my own place -is Tudor or Gothic. Most awfully obliged to you, my dear fellow, for -taking it off my hands, and so on. Benefactor to the deservin’ poor, -don’t-cher-know—that sort of thing. Is there anything I can do to -oblige you? Only say the word!’ - -‘I don’t see that there is anything more,’ said the purchaser, ‘that -isn’t included in the agreement. Oh, by the bye, there are a few -articles of furniture, an old dower-chest with parchments, some -antique volumes, charters, and so on. I’m a bit of an antiquarian in -my leisure hours—having more than I care for now, sorry to say. Would -your man of law put a price upon them—that is, of course, if you have -no dislike to part with them—heirlooms probably?’ - -‘Would I turn them into cash? Like a bird, my dear fellow—your man and -mine can fight it out between them. You could have the title too, if -there was no law to prevent it. Many a time I’ve wished I could melt -it, like the family plate. Some of it _has_ gone that way. You smile! -It’s the “frozen truth,” as our friend Lady Neuchatel says.’ - -‘Of course you’re joking; your family succession——’ - -‘Not a bit of it. Talked it over with her Ladyship and the children -many a time. Jack, my eldest son—he’s in the Guards—quite agrees with -me. So do the girls. “Oh, take the cash, and let the title go.” Saw it -in _Omar Khayyám_, she said. Clever girl, Corisande! “Broken gods no -use any more, in modern times, without the money. Rank without money -the worst form of genteel poverty.” Give you my word, Mr. Banneret, -it’s most refreshin’ start I’ve had for years. To think of a decent -credit at one’s private bank account! Excuse my high spirits—makes me -feel like a boy again—not good form, I admit, but situation -exceptional.’ - -Arnold Banneret and this impoverished peer ‘got on,’ as the phrase is, -wonderfully well together. Like most Englishmen of rank, he was -utterly unaffected, never having had to take thought about his -position, or to trouble himself as to the amount of consideration due -to it. Sufficient deference is cheerfully yielded to Lords and -Honourables in England and her colonies, whether rich or poor, as long -as they merit respect from personal character. If they are not so -honoured it is entirely due to their want of the qualities which are -attributed to their birth and breeding. Lord Hexham had been in the -army; had sold out when he succeeded to the title; married shortly -afterwards, and, without being very extravagant, had lived a careless, -easy life, until the foreclosure of a long-standing mortgage, and the -accumulation of unpaid debts and obligations, compelled a surrender. -His family was fairly large—four sons and three daughters—the eldest -son in the army, second navy, two younger boys still at school. For -the girls—Corisande was grown up; Adeline coming on, ambitious and -slightly combative; Mildred still with her governess. When all -liabilities had been liquidated or arranged, it was decided in a sort -of advisory committee, partly composed of creditors and partly of -relatives, that the family must settle for the next few years in a -cheap place, somewhere on the Continent, where the girls could learn -music and languages. But all expensive amusements—travel, sport, house -in town, yachting, etc.—must be done with once and for all. If the -rents were regularly devoted to payment of creditors and the release -of mortgages for a few years, the estate would be, perhaps not quite -free from debt, but in a condition to allow the head of the house a -reasonable income, and to afford the young people all the reasonable -social advantages to which, by their birth and station, they had a -natural claim. The position was felt by the Earl to be, in some -respects, ‘rather hard lines upon a fellow who hadn’t had much -spending out of the big indebtedness which had brought the family ship -aground.’ But it was felt that there was nothing else for it, and his -Lordship, taking his wife’s advice, submitted to it with a fairly good -grace. - -‘Deuced hard for your Ladyship, come to think—and the girls won’t like -it one bit. But they’re young, and will get their music, and all the -rest of it, as good in Bruges, perhaps better, than in London—cheaper -too, ever so much cheaper. Jack and Falkland will be fighting -England’s foes on sea and land. Mustn’t outrun the constable, though; -but they’re steady chaps, particularly Jack—that’s one comfort. And -if—I say if—we can put in five years in this kind of rustication, -well, we’re not too old yet; we may look forward to a clean sheet, -and a little reasonable fun, in our—what’s the old song say?—“our -declinin’ days,” declinin’ days—that’s good, isn’t it? Well, I’ll try -to do my part—I _know_ you’ll do yours.’ - -That settled it. The hunters, the carriage horses, the park hacks, -were sold; the choice little herd of Jerseys, the greyhound kennel, -were disposed of. The well-known historic estate of Hexham was finally -sold out and out, to the wonder and surprise of the country people, -who had a fixed idea that it belonged to the Crown, or, in some -mysterious way, could not be disposed of without the royal sanction. -However, it _was_ sold, everything advertised in the county paper, and -a large attendance witnessed the disposal of all the belongings and -valuables not secured by special deed of settlement. - -The all-important transaction being legally, equitably, peacefully -concluded, everything being brought to the hammer—a few heirlooms in -the shape of pictures, statuary, etc., being reserved,—Lord Hexham -gave up his right and title to house and lands, and the new family -acquired possession of the old Hall and the old acres. - -It was a portentous proceeding, the girls considered, who acknowledged -a feeling half of awe and half of triumph as they found themselves in -possession of the ancient keep, with embattled walls, towers, and a -portion of a deep and broad moat. They were driven through the Norman -archway, seen through great elms and walnut trees, partly concealing -the quaint high chimneys of the outbuildings, preserved through the -entreaties, even threats, of Lady Ermentrude. The Dowager Countess -reached her ninetieth year before she surrendered her state and the -deference which she exacted as due to the most exalted pedigree in -Britain. A portion of ‘the flanking towers, with turrets high,’ did -certainly look rather grim and menacing, favouring the idea that an -attack in force might be expected at any time. But the remaining -portion of the great building, or rather the collection of buildings, -had been so modernised, that the perfection of comfort and artistic -elegance demanded by latter-day life had been secured, combined with -the luxurious amplitude of quasi-royal apartments. It was wonderful -how the huge building had lent itself to ornamentation, to surprises, -and luxurious lounging nooks and corners. Here quiet converse might be -had by congenial spirits, or wide landscapes surveyed, beauteous with -glimpses of lake and river varying the cultured sweep of pasture and -arable, which seemed only to end with the horizon. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -By the time that arrangements were fully completed, Lord Hexham and -the Banneret family had become quite intimate, and in a sense -confidential. He had dined with them at the Cecil, where Australian -friends were asked to meet him in a quiet way. He was a sociable -personage, and the more he saw of his successors at Hexham Hall the -more he liked them. Between cultured men of the world there is a -certain freemasonry, which deprives social intercourse of all _gêne_ -and awkwardness, no matter to what country they belong. - -With Mrs. Banneret and her girls his Lordship was much impressed, -feeling, as he told her truly, as if he had known them for years. He -saw how she sympathised with him; the hard necessity for the -eviction—so to speak—of this noble family, after their long and close -connection with their ancient home, appealed to her tender heart. -Underneath his affectedly frivolous treatment of the subject she -divined, with a woman’s intuitive perception, that there was, could -not but be, a sore feeling—rising at times to remorse—at the thought -that, by his own neglect and indolent mental drift, he had forfeited -the heritage of his race. To the family change of circumstances she -never referred, but he was aware that it was in her thoughts. In her -calm, undemonstrative way she conveyed the idea of regret in the -abstract, as inseparable from such an exodus. And in his heart he -honoured her for the unspoken sympathy. - -When the Earl departed for the United Service Club in London, he -wrote, thanking Mrs. Banneret and her husband for their hospitable -kindness, and, for which he was even more grateful, their delicate -consideration for a ruined man—conscious only too keenly of his own -shortcomings and inefficient stewardship. - -The merry month of May passed with credit, having provided, for once -in a way, appropriate weather, including a decent average of sunshine. -The midsummer month arrived in all the glory of that delicious time, -of roses and lilies, with all vernal triumphs. And now, in the second -week of June—flushed June—came to pass a wondrous equine exhibition, -the carnival of coach and harness perfection, unapproachable for form -and fashion in any other land under the sun—the meeting of the -Four-in-Hand Club! What an ecstasy of excitement and admiration -possessed these young people when, at the Magazine in Hyde Park, -twenty coaches, utterly perfect in their appointments, lined up. - -First in order was Colonel Sir Alfred Somerset’s team of chestnuts—not -the famous one of three piebalds and a skewbald, so well known, so -much admired, in days gone by. Next, the regimental team of the -Coldstream Guards—the grey team of last year, driven by Sir Pleydell -Bouverie; Mr. Hope Morley’s bays, a miracle of matching and stepping -together; Colonel Frank Shuttleworth’s black browns; Lord Newlands’ -favourite team of dark browns. Then comes another, at which the girls -exclaimed, as original and striking—Captain Valentine’s two chestnuts, -a roan and a bay; Sir Henry Ewart’s fine chestnuts, with Mr. Albert -Brassey’s well-known bays. Mr. Banneret recognised the tall figure of -Lord Loch, driving the Grenadier Guards’ bay team. - -The horses, of course, commended themselves to the Australian family -by their size, power, action, and perfect matching, except, of course, -in the cases of intentional chequers of colour. Their lofty crests, -their high action, the wonderful finish of harness, coach, livery, -servants, and appointments generally, they admitted to transcend -anything within their experience. Then the perfect ‘form’ of the -drivers, gloved, hatted, ‘frockered,’ and generally turned out _à -merveille_, unapproachable, unequalled in Christendom, or elsewhere. - -‘They can’t help carrying themselves well,’ said Eric, ‘with -bearing-reins; their heads braced up to the same angle—driven on the -bar, too. Not much chance of their pulling unreasonably or getting -away with the driver—full of corn and rest as they undoubtedly are. -It’s a lovely sight for people who understand horses.’ - -‘All the same,’ contended paterfamilias, ‘they are rather heavy for -any work except this show business, and would be none the worse for a -blood-cross. With stages of twenty or twenty-five miles and back, our -Australian teams would be easily in the lead; none the worse for it -either, on the following day. But these horses are not expected to do -real work.’ - -‘Oh, it’s idle to depreciate these turn-outs,’ said Hermione. ‘Nothing -in the world can be finer! How I should like to be on the box-seat of -that coach with the lovely chestnuts—Captain Quintin Dick’s, aren’t -they? And going on to Hurlingham afterwards? We must have a look at -the polo there, some fine day. Do we know any one there in that -behalf? as I heard a lawyer say in father’s Court, one day.’ - -‘Yes, we do!’ stated Vanda, with some eagerness. ‘Of course there’s -Captain Neil Haig; he was A.D.C. to the Governor in West Australia. He -played in Melbourne, don’t you remember, against the crack Western -Club. Four Englishmen against four Australians. It was a drawn -game—he’s a wonderful hitter.’ - -It was agreed, _nem. con._, that a party should be made up for -Hurlingham the next time there was a match on. Following which -arrangement the conversation became general, until, shortly after one -o’clock, Mr. Lovegrove gave the word, and the procession, headed by -the President, Lord Ancaster, moved off; some of the coaches going on -to Hurlingham, as arranged in the programme. - -‘There can’t be anything finer under the sun, for form and finish,’ -declared Reggie, ‘but the American coaching in Australia for -cross-country work, over bad roads, for speed and punctuality has -greatly the advantage. Their coaches and teams, of course, do not -compare in the matter of appearance, and are not expected to. But the -passengers are better accommodated, and the American cross-handed -style of holding the reins gives better, greater power over the team. -Think, for instance, of having to handle six or seven horses at -night—three in the lead, with a heavily loaded coach and indifferent -roads. The lamps too, placed on high, are more numerous, thus throwing -the light farther out ahead. The service is more efficient and -satisfactory than the English fashion, which prevailed in Australia -until quite recently.’ - -‘Everything in its own place,’ said Mrs. Banneret. ‘The pioneer work -in Britain was finished centuries ago. In our Greater Britain it has -only lately begun. Our young men have rough work and different results -to look to. Let us hope that they may learn in time to combine use and -ornament.’ - -‘That’s where these English fellows beat us, I must say,’ interposed -Eric. ‘Looking at them there, sitting up as if they were only intended -to drive accurately, to advertise their teams and their tailors, one -might think that they couldn’t do anything else—never had done. There -could be no greater mistake. They _have_ done all sorts of -things—great things, many of them—but you’d never know it from -themselves. The Englishman doesn’t talk. You must hear his exploits -from some one else. You never will from himself.’ - -‘I’m afraid people don’t think that way about us,’ said Vanda -dolefully. ‘In fact, they say just the opposite sometimes—when they -quote Anthony Trollope, who frequently mentioned the word “blow,” -which is Australian for “boast.” That will be rectified by and by. We -are a baby nation, so far, but will calm down to the regular, steady, -solid Anglo-Saxon march. We’re only excitable—being in the midst of -“war’s alarms” at present—likely enough to be dragged in, too, if -these Russian cruisers keep on raiding our commerce.’ - -‘Oh, Vanda! you don’t say so?’ said Hermione, who was not disposed to -throw down the gauntlet to Russia just yet, though much in sympathy -with Japan. ‘Think what a dreadful thing war is!’ - -‘It’s a much more dreadful thing,’ said her sister, ‘not to fight to -the death for home and hearth. Think of dear old Australia being -overrun by the Yellow Peril, or even our kind friends, the Russians -and Germans.’ - -‘But surely there can be no danger of the Chinese making war upon us? -Consider how unwarlike a people they are! and how thousands of them -would fly before disciplined troops.’ - -‘I am not so sure of that,’ said Mr. Banneret. ‘General Gordon was of -opinion that, if well led by European officers, in whom they had -confidence, they were equal to any troops in the world. As for the -danger of the irruption of the Goths and Vandals, the late Sir Henry -Parkes, a veteran statesman, was of opinion during the latter years -of his life that Australia’s greatest danger in the future would be -from the proximity of such nations as China and Japan, immensely -superior in numbers, and becoming gradually possessed of all the -scientific arms of precision. He probably had in his mind China and -Japan, the inhabitants of which countries, our legislators, led by the -labour party, have laid themselves out to insult and degrade.’ - -‘Seems unfair, doesn’t it?’ said Reggie. ‘In our policy of “Government -by the poor,” they scarcely grasped the idea of a combined Japanese -and Chinese force,—with a score of ironclads, landing an army corps in -North Queensland, and marching south!’ - -‘But what would England’s Navy be doing all the time?’ demanded Vanda. - -‘England’s Navy,’ replied Reggie, ‘might have something else to do at -that particular time—more especially if Russia, Germany, and perhaps -France, chose to consider it a befitting time to teach these proud -islanders that the “sea, and all that in them is,” was not their -inalienable birthright. Besides, it’s a long way to come, and our -noble army of town-bred artisans, back-block shearers, swagmen, and -shepherds would make no great stand against their countless hordes. -The coast all looted, with banks and treasuries rifled, as also -private property of all kinds; the city population helpless in the -hands of the ruthless spoilers. Think of it! It would then be a case -of “Oh, weep for fair Australia!” as an Australian poet sang a year or -two since.’ - -‘What a ghastly picture—a kind of Verestchagin nightmare! It’s enough -to freeze the blood in one’s veins. And what power could come to our -aid? Oh, I know! Blood is thicker than water. When it came to the -actual spectacle of a British Commonwealth submerged beneath a flood -of barbarism, America would come to our aid. The “Stars and Stripes” -would “chip in,” as they say. The Dominion of Canada, more loyal than -Britain itself——’ - -‘New Zealand too—that makes a respectable number of Allied Forces,’ -said her father, smiling at the girl’s eagerness. - -‘But the mere conception of such a calamity,’ he continued, ‘makes -one’s flesh creep. When one reckons up the toil and thought which the -subduing of the wilderness has cost, the labour and the treasure -expended in building up these fair cities—these grand provinces, this -population of British blood and nurture, not inferior to any people in -the world; to believe that the fruit of heroic colonisation, for which -noble lives have been spent, noble blood shed, should have been all -for nought—for worse than nothing—for ruin and desolation—the -degradation of a nation, as in the old-world chronicles, about which -we read, and take no heed; then, and then indeed, might one come to -doubt the purpose of the Most High, the Divine plan of Providence, the -beneficent scheme of the Universe.’ - - * * * * * - -The business of the installation of the new family was not completed -without a fair allowance of work and labour, even excitement. - -There necessarily remained much to do before the final arrangements -were complete. An additional morning-room for the girls was to be -chosen, in which to write and make society arrangements, to receive -their friends, to hold informal afternoon teas, and to perform any -kind of needlework, and literary pastime, quietly and reposefully. - -Of course furniture for some of the principal reception-rooms had to -be purchased and arranged. Grave councils were held before this scheme -could be carried out. But at length everything was completed, and the -collective taste of the family fully satisfied. - -Then the first step, an important one in county neighbourhoods at home -or abroad, was taken—the Bannerets went to church _en famille_. The -Vicar, the Rev. and Honourable Cyril Courtenay, had called, as soon -after their arrival as was consistent with etiquette, in advance of -his lady parishioners. This proceeding he justified on the ground of -his wish to make himself acquainted with the religious tendencies of -the new Squire and the rest of the family, with whom, by virtue of his -position, he would be brought into closer than ordinary contact. - -He was agreeably surprised to find at the first interview with the new -potentate and his wife that harmonious relations were likely to exist. -Mr. Banneret, as an Anglican churchman, was quite prepared to join -cordially with Mr. Courtenay in promoting the welfare of the parish; -promising at once liberal donations to the funds of the charitable -societies, nursing clubs, and all such benevolent arrangements for the -welfare of the poor. Mrs. Banneret had acted in similar positions -before, and was quite willing to take a leading part in Dorcas -societies, and other institutions for the benefit of widows, and -labourers’ families, such as are always in a state of chronic or -accidental distress in the most happily situated parishes. - -The Vicar, speaking for the laymen of his diocese, was thankful, he -might say, most grateful to Providence, that had so ‘shaped our ends,’ -in a manner so unforeseen, while so beneficial to the church and to -the needs of this long-neglected parish. Mrs. Courtenay, he needed not -to say, would be only too happy to work in concert with Mrs. Banneret -in all parish and church matters. She would pay her respects on an -early date to the new Lady of the Manor. So the Vicar took his -departure, leaving the Hall, as he told his wife, in a much more -cheerful state of mind than had formerly been his experience after -interviews with the ruling powers of Hexham. - -Rarely, indeed, had he been able to extract subscriptions for urgent -needs of the church, however strongly he might paint the discreditable -state of the venerable edifice and the poverty of the village poor. -Lord Hexham was uniformly polite—he could not be otherwise to the -Vicar, a contemporary of his own at Cambridge, and a personal friend. -But his logic was unanswerable: he had no money to spare—hadn’t had -for years—never should have again, as far as he could make out. Lady -Hexham was refined and courteous, but the parable was unaltered. She -could hardly pay for the girls’ frocks, for the boys’ uniforms; next -year they might not have bread to eat. Rents were falling; certainly -the agent received them, and disposed of them mysteriously to a bank, -she heard. Only a fraction seemed to come their way. Once upon a time -the tenants paid cheerfully; even admitted—wonderful to relate—that -they had sold their crops well, had had a good year. But even so, when -butter, beef and mutton, cheese and fruit, came in from the colonies -and America in overwhelming quantities, what was the use of a good -season if the prices went down to depths unheard of—and stayed there? -As for the agent, it was needless to think of asking _him_ to reduce a -rent on cottage or holding, however small. - -‘It’s asking me to rob his Lordship of his dues, simply, or else the -mortgagee, which comes to the same thing. I’m powerless—otherwise -should have been happy—_most_ happy to contribute. As a private -individual you are welcome to my guinea annually, as usual.’ - -With civil speeches and scant coin the Rev. Cyril had perforce to be -content. He recognised the justice of the argument. The family would -have subscribed reasonably, if not liberally, to all the customary -calls upon the Lord of the Manor, if the head of the house could have -afforded it. But he could not afford it, and there was an end of the -matter. The parish, the tenantry, and the neighbours—a few staunch -friends of the family perhaps excepted—would be not sorry to exchange -an impecunious proprietor, too poor and hampered by debts and -mortgages to do anything for sport or charity, unable to entertain, or -in almost any way to keep up an appearance befitting the descendants -of Raoul de ——, who had ‘come over with the Conqueror,’ and having -_more majorum_ married the heiress of ——, had entered into possession -of the Hexham lands and feudal privileges, together with as much of -the adjacent common land as a rapacious Norman baron, high in favour -with an unscrupulous sovereign, could by force or fraud manage to -appropriate. The descendants of such a man should have been able to -not only freely disburse the customary manorial dues, but to keep up -all state and dignity befitting the position. As he could not, the -villagers concluded that it was the next best thing to welcome the new -family, who, though they had come from a wild sort of country—as -they’d heard tell on—called Horstrailier—seemed a decentish sort, and, -anyhow, were well off, and did the thing respectable. So the village -church bells were rung, and the new family was greeted by a crowd of -some fifty odd souls, comprising a large proportion of women and -children, who hurrahed, and made formal demonstrations of welcome, as -the carriage and a string of railway cabs, with servants and luggage, -passed through the Tudor gateway, and drew up inside the more ornately -modern portico of the baronial hall. - -The girls at once rushed up to their rooms, where, as their own maid -and some other house servants had been sent down the day before, they -were able to appreciate the view and make ready for lunch. This meal -they professed themselves ready to enjoy with a true country -appetite—as the morning had been more or less exciting, even in a -sense fatiguing. It was fortunately a fine day, so that the beauty of -the grass, the foliage, the surrounding landscape, impressed them -strongly. - -‘Oh, what an Eden of a place!’ said Hermione. ‘How happy we shall be! -How thankful we ought to consider ourselves in having come into such a -delightful home, and, what is of more consequence, having the means to -keep it up.’ - -‘Oh, yes!’ assented Vanda, ‘we ought to have a good time, but I’m not -sure that we shall be really happier than we were in dear old Sydney, -when we first went to live in Charlotte Bay Place. What a glorious -view there was of the Heads and the harbour! What boating picnics we -used to have! I should like to go back there some day. Here we shall -have to live a quiet English country life, being good to the poor, and -so on, like the girls in Jane Austen’s books. There’ll be no adventure -about it. I suppose the Vicar will want us to teach in his Sunday -school.’ - -‘You needn’t teach there if you don’t wish. Mother won’t compel you, -I’m sure,’ replied Hermione. ‘I think I shall rather like it after all -the racketing and gaiety we’ve had in London. I feel as if a reposeful -life here would be a pleasing change. My conscience has been troubling -me lately, for taking all the good things of life and making no -return. It seems so selfish and ungrateful.’ - -‘Oh, well,’ said Vanda, ‘perhaps one would feel more contented if one -had a few good works to put on the credit side of the account. I know -I’ve been rather dissipated lately. This quiet country life may do us -good, in more ways than one. Oh, mother’ (as Mrs. Banneret came in to -see if the young people were ready, and to notify that the great bell -for luncheon was about to clang), ‘Hermione and I have just resolved -to be good. We are going to visit the poor, and teach in the Sunday -school, and do our duty, just like the Jane Austen girls.’ - -‘I am very pleased to hear it, my dears; only I don’t wish you to take -such a resolution in any but a serious sense, and an earnest resolve -to do your duty and set an example, as far as in you lies, to the -people among whom our lot for some years, if not always, will be cast. -You have had all the rational amusement, and quite a full allowance of -what the world calls pleasure, to last you for some time. I quite -agree with you that it will be a good opportunity to begin in some -respects a different and, with God’s grace, a higher life.’ - -On the Sunday morning following this important conversation, the -Banneret family made their appearance in the roomy enclosure which had -been for many generations consecrated to the use of the Lord of the -Manor, his family, and apparently as many of his relations and -dependants as he chose thus to honour. The church was fairly well -filled, as it happened, much to the gratification of the Vicar, who -was not displeased to note the presence of neighbouring magnates, -with their wives, who from time to time directed an intermittent gaze -towards the new occupants of the Hall pew. Arnold Banneret with his -wife and daughters made a good appearance therein. Indeed it had been -for some years unoccupied, during the absence of the family abroad: -such being the traditional custom. Mrs. Banneret and her daughters -were well but quietly dressed—her wish to that effect having been -gently but firmly expressed. ‘We have recently come from town,’ she -said; ‘it is reported, no doubt, that we are very rich. In this quiet -place nothing could be more vulgar than any display of fashion -bordering upon finery.’ This settled the matter. The dresses were -studiously plain; so much so, that the rustics of the congregation -were secretly disappointed in not seeing unusual splendour, doubting -in consequence whether the new-comers were so rich as they had been -led to believe. - -As the service proceeded, the thought came into the mind of this -Australian squire of the many differing localities and positions in -which he, with his wife and children, had worshipped before they came -to this lordly abode. Not infrequently had he been the officiating lay -minister, reading the Burial Service over the dead miner, victim of -some sudden landslip or premature explosion; reciting the words of the -litany, now sounding in his ears, in a half-finished wooden building, -roofed with eucalyptus bark or corrugated iron; driving miles through -snow for the purpose, or in mid-summer crossing the brick-red plain, -amid dust and simoom-like blasts. Through all these incongruous -scenes, and from these and a hundred other various parts played by him -in the great drama of life, he had emerged safe and unharmed. Not only -unharmed, but placed in this position of honour and dignity—by no -merit of his own, but by the operation of, apparently, the primary -forces of Nature. Riches, too, had been added for the further -advantage and enjoyment of those whom he loved more—yes, far more, -than his own life. Ought he not then, out of the fulness of a heart -welling over with gratitude, to echo the solemn prayer of the -concluding litany? - -At the conclusion of the service, the mail-phaetons, dog-carts, -carriages, and other vehicles showed that some at least of the -parishioners had a distance to come, which necessitated driving. The -party from the Hall were scarcely a half-mile from the church, so that -there was no need for taking out the carriage. The family, as a whole, -were good pedestrians—‘The short walk was quite a pleasure,’ as Vanda -told every one, ‘and it would have been absurd to take out the -horses.’ - -When Lord Hexham returned to his family at Bruges, after a concluding -week in London, in which to show himself to his clubs, and have a -little social companionship with old friends and comrades, he took -with him a letter from Mrs. Banneret, of so sympathetic and -unaffectedly kind a nature, that Lady Hexham nearly relented. She -would have been indeed more than human if she had not felt the least -little bit of envy and jealousy of these people from a far country, -who had entered into their labours, so to speak, for no other reason -than the chance possession of more money than they knew what to do -with. Hard, no doubt, did it seem to her, that while she and her girls -had to stint and save, scarcely able to afford themselves decent -frocks, the daughters of these _nouveaux riches_ should have their -Paris gowns noticed in every fashion paper, and described as -‘confections,’ and so on, of the latest style. They were also seen at -Ascot, royal Ascot, these new dwellers in their ancestral halls, their -property in which, owing to the extravagance of one generation and the -apathetic indifference of the next, had gradually declined, and was -now lost to the family for ever. - -However, his Lordship’s persistent advocacy of their claims to -consideration gradually weakened her prejudices, finally inducing her -to reply to Mrs. Banneret’s letter in manner approaching to the spirit -in which it was written. - -‘You know, my dear,’ he had said, in one of the discussions about ways -and means which had followed his return to the peaceful home-life at -Bruges, ‘it really was an immense relief our getting hold of such a -lot of hard cash for poor old Hexham. It puts us and our credit in -such a different position from what it has been for years.’ - -‘I daresay it has, but I don’t want any more credit, if you please—we -have had more than was good for us all along. What sort of people are -they? I suppose the girls are good-looking? That’s what _you_ mean by -crediting them with all the virtues.’ - -‘They certainly are; but it’s very unfair of you to talk in that -jealous way. If you saw Mrs. Banneret, not to mention her husband and -the sons.’ - -‘Oh, there are sons, then?’ - -‘Yes, very fine young fellows; one of them rowed three in the -Cambridge eight this year—which beat your favourite Oxford crew, my -lady. They’re handsome too.’ - -‘Well, I can’t be jealous of _them_, can I?’ - -‘No, nor of any girl or woman alive, as you well know—say you know it, -dear, won’t you? You’re only trying to draw me?’ - -‘I suppose I must forgive you, as usual, though you’ve stayed away an -unconscionable time, and spent more money in London than you ought to -have done—now haven’t you?’ - -‘I had to complete arrangements—and—er—er—there were business details. -Hang it! if a man can’t have a little amusement when he gets a cheque -for a couple of hundred thousand, after being mewed up in a place like -this for years, when is he to have it? And the old clubs were so -pleasant, and the fellows so glad to see me again, y’know!’ - -‘Oh yes, I know! And ready to play bridge and billiards, no doubt. So -you think I’d like to pay Mrs. What’s-her-name a visit, and see the -old place again? Perhaps it would be rather a lark.’ - -‘Don’t be reckless, dear! That’s not your line, but _if_ you could -manage it, some day, when the girls are at their pensions, I -guarantee that you’d enjoy it. It would please them awfully—and _me_, -if that counts.’ - -‘Well, perhaps I’ll see about it—but don’t be sure just yet.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -Among the entertainments proper to the season, which the family about -this time witnessed, was the polo match in the Champion Cup Tournament -between the ‘Magpies’ and the ‘Handley Cross’ teams. - -The former team was composed of Captain Hobson, Major Vaughan, -Mr. Thynne, and Major Lee; the latter played Mr. Rich, Major Anselm, -Captain Neil Haig, and Colonel Renton; Colonel St. Quintin, -timekeeper, and Mr. John Watson and Major Kirke, umpires. - -The girls were wildly interested, having seen Captain Neil Haig (who -put in the first big hit) play in Melbourne. - -On that occasion, four Englishmen played the best team in Australia, -composed of the three brothers Camperdown and Mr. Wellesley. It came -off on the Moonee Valley ground; it was a notable society function—Her -Excellency Lady Brassey, the wife of the Governor of the day, -presenting the prizes on the ground. - -It was stubbornly contested, but ended in a draw; Colonel St. Quintin, -who happened to be in Australia at the time, acted as umpire. - -So much interested in the game were they, so lost in admiration of the -beauty and high quality of the ponies, that, hearing there were to be -two club games played at Hurlingham on the following Wednesday, they -arranged to attend. To their surprise and delight Lord Roberts and -Lady Aileen arrived to witness the play. - -Lord Harrington’s team consisted of the Duke of Westminster, Captain -Neil Haig, his Lordship himself, and Mr. de Kooep. A close finish, -with a draw, was the result. The day was lovely, the play admirable, -but one feature of the meeting particularly interested the Australian -contingent. Vanda, whose eyes seemed to be everywhere, exclaimed -suddenly: ‘Why, there’s our West Australian friend Gerald Branksome; -and, just fancy! it must be his wife with him. We heard he was to be -married this month, in London, to the daughter of a high official in -Albany, or Perth, or somewhere. How pretty she is—so well dressed too! -What fun meeting them here! Don’t you see them, Hermie? What a swell -Gerald looks—tall hat—frocker—most accurate!’ - -The pair of spectators thus favourably reviewed were seen to be in -conversation with Captain Haig, after which, the recent bridegroom -retired into the recesses of the dressing pavilion, whence he shortly -emerged in full polo costume, a few minutes before the Victoria Cross -Race was started. A tall, well-built, fair-haired young man, he -slipped into the saddle on a club pony, led out for him, with the ease -of a practised performer, after carefully altering the stirrup -leathers. The game included dismounting, and lifting to the saddle a -dummy, presumably a wounded comrade, and afterwards clearing the -hurdles on the course—a feat requiring more than average strength, -activity, and horsemanship. This feat was performed at least once, -during the late Boer War, by a member of a New South Wales contingent. -He deliberately returned under fire for the purpose—the feat taking -place during a very hot encounter with the Boers, who had ambushed a -scouting party. The leaden hail was so close and deadly that the -clothes of the rescuer and his comrade were riddled. Neither was -seriously injured, but the poor ‘Waler’ who gamely carried his riders -out of danger received his death wound. The Australian—for such he -was—was accorded the rare and precious, almost unique, decoration of -the ‘Queen’s Scarf.’ - -There were no bullets flying during the more peaceful contest which -the club’s courtesy provided for the guest from a far country, none -the less was there need of a strong arm and exceptional horsemanship. -He was apparently no novice, inasmuch as, after dismounting and -remounting with enviable activity, he finally won on the post, to the -great joy and pride of his wife, and those friends who hailed from the -gold-strewn lands under the Southern Cross. The President -congratulated him in the handsomest manner, requesting his Australian -address, in order that the prize for the race, which would be -forwarded, might reach him safely. - -So the Hurlingham expedition closed in a manner equally pleasing to -the champion of Australian horsemanship and his compatriots. They went -home together and heard all about the wedding, ‘in the merry month of -May,’ and the honeymoon cottage on the river, where the nightingale -sang to sympathetic listeners, and recalled Heine’s delicious poem. -Nothing would satisfy the Bannerets but a ‘sacred promise,’ as Vanda -called it, that they should stay for a week at Hexham when they -returned from Paris, for which city of delights they were leaving on -the morrow. - -After such feats of horsemanship the youthful division became -clamorous for half a dozen hunters, as the stable quad. (Eric said) -was disgracefully empty. What were _one_ pair of carriage horses, -another of ponies for their mother’s phaeton, the governor’s park -hack, and one or two others? The hackney was a darling for beauty and -manners, though the pater persisted in saying that in pace, -elasticity, endurance—in fact, as an all-round horse—he was not a -patch upon the famous Gaucho, or Graysteel, which he rode in his youth -in Australia. He admitted that Count D’Orsay walked fast, cantered -easily, trotted fairly, and, like his namesake and Private Willis, was -very generally admired. No fault could be found with his manners and -appearance. But where would he be at the end of a seventy-mile ride, -which old Graysteel had several times performed, off _grass_, with -ease to himself and comfort to his rider. Besides, he did _not_ -believe in hackney blood. They were very sweet to look at—perfect -almost in shape, carriage, and other requisites for ornamental -equitation. - -But there was a ‘want’ somewhere: he doubted if they could jump; he -questioned if they could stay; and, it was a hard thing to state, but -after you got away from the slow paces he was afraid they were even -_rough_—one ‘perfect’ animal that he tried certainly was so. In a -slow, rocking-horse sort of canter he was tolerable, but after that he -lifted you almost out of the saddle at every stride. - -‘Come, I say, sir!’ said Reggie; ‘you mustn’t begin crabbing the -horses of your ancestral home, and all that, before you’ve been a year -in England—sounds provincial, doesn’t it? It takes time, as you have -often said, to pick up a first-class hackney anywhere. Give the old -country time, and you’ll get hold of a covert hack or two that will -put these old favourites out of your head.’ - -‘That there are plenty of good goers to be had here I never denied,’ -he said, with a musing expression, ‘but when I think of Hope, The -Gaucho, and Graysteel, none of them can do _that_. You boys were too -young to recollect the horses I rode and drove when your mother and I -were living on our western cattle station, or visiting the sheep-run -in Riverina.’ - -‘Oh, tell us about them—now do!’ coaxed Vanda, seating herself -promptly on the floor, and leaning against her indulgent parent’s -knee. ‘Mother rode, and drove, then—didn’t she?’ - -‘Yes, indeed! she was a bold horsewoman, a good whip too. Absolutely -fearless—so much so that I often anticipated her coming to grief. -However, she never did. So she must have been clever or lucky, above -the average.’ - -‘Now then, sir, about the horses? How were they bred, and what could -they do?’ - -‘Well, they were chiefly compounded of English thorough-bred and -high-caste blood, middle-sized, but fast, hardy, tireless, and -sure-footed to a marvellous degree. The two best all-round hacks I -ever owned were Hope and The Gaucho. The latter, the show horse of the -stud, was the offspring of a South American mare, imported from -Valparaiso in early colonial days. Your respected father was a trifle -more active then, and used to break in his own colts.’ - -‘Is that why all Walers buck-jump, as people say?’ suggested Eric. - -‘Perfect nonsense!’ returned the senior, slightly ‘drawn.’ ‘Of the -dozen and a half colts which I broke to saddle—single and double -harness, and to carry a lady—hardly one but was as well mannered as -any horse in the Row, besides having various accomplishments which -English horses could never dream of.’ - -‘What sort were they?’ - -‘Travelling over rough, stony country by night as well as day, besides -those of the Australian camp horse or “cutter out.” These include -coolness and courage, when ridden through a drove of a thousand -excited cattle, keeping close up to a sharp-horned savage, shoulder -against shoulder, or following up, the rider’s stockwhip making hair -and hide fly; racing neck and neck for one minute, and perhaps the -next stopping dead and wheeling within his own tracks, to block a -sudden break back to the herd,—this violent exercise kept up from -sunrise to sunset, with perhaps a trifle of a dozen miles extra before -the station yards are reached. The “cutting out” work, or separation -of fat or strange animals from the general herd, collected on camp, is -not very unlike polo—except that a second horse is rarely used either -by squatter or stockrider.’ - -‘How long did the “breaking” and “making” business take?’ demanded -Eric. - -‘Truth to tell, it was short work, and rather rough. As two-year-olds -the colts were roped, and handled unceremoniously, after the bush -fashion of the day.’ - - ‘Wild as the wild deer, and untamed; - By spur and saddle undefiled,’ - -quoted Reggie. ‘You must have had an exciting time, sir.’ - -‘By no means; full as they were of pluck, they were hereditarily free -from vice. Before the end of the first week I rode one colt thirty -miles, alone and unattended. He was perfectly quiet, and jumped logs -like an old horse; the other was much the same—free and temperate.’ - -‘But your groom helped you, and the stabling counts for something?’ - -‘There was no groom, neither any stable. They were kept in the yard, -with the surcingle and mouthing-bit on by day, and paddocked by -night—grass and water _à discrétion_.’ - -‘And what was the outcome of this cow-boy treatment?’ - -‘They turned out accomplished hackneys. Quiet in saddle and harness, -and carried a lady—as per advertisement.’ - -‘Oh, how nice!’ said Vanda; ‘what colour?’ - -‘Bright bay, with black points. Graysteel excepted.’ - -‘What about paces?’ - -‘Fast and good, remarkable trotters, but if touched on the curb would -lead off on the right foot at an easy canter. Hope walked fast, but -The Gaucho could never be got to do so, though I tried him for hours -and days patiently. His dam, the Chileno mare, an animal of great -courage and endurance, had the same failing. But like his -half-brother, Hope, he could jump his own height, was absolutely -incapable of falling, and had been ridden eighty miles between “sun -and sun” more than once. He, too, was quiet and staunch in harness.’ - -‘Think they’d do in the Market Harborough country?’ queried Reggie -doubtfully. - -‘Of course; brooks and trappy enclosures would be a novelty, but they -were clever, and would soon come to know their way about. Rails they -preferred, the stiffer the better. Walls, being straightforward -obstacles, they rather liked. And with twelve stone up I shouldn’t -fear their being in the first flight. Hope won a steeplechase, over -stiff post and rail country, against a strong field, and another -half-brother, Maythorn, a son of The Premier, imported—sold to a -hard-riding friend. Morton Gray, of Gray Court, gave a lead to the -Master of the Melbourne Hounds, the well-known George Wharton, over -the Bootles gap, a stiff four-railer, with a “cap” on top, bringing up -the height to nearly five feet, and finished a long day’s run without -“putting a toe” on rail or wall. He was a fine hackney also; and, as a -camp horse, a great performer. These horses were reared in the Western -district of Victoria, then, as now, admitted to be, for soil, climate, -and pasturage, unequalled in Australia. And now I think we have -“talked horse” enough for the present.’ - - * * * * * - -The important question of buying a few hunters had been decided. Now -was the time to buy, before the hunting season set in. Mr. Banneret -very properly considered that the best animals were the cheapest in -the end; and there was no occasion to economise, the safety of his -children being the principal consideration. A sale of hunters taking -place at Tattersall’s in a few days, he secured a few really good ones -to begin with. First and foremost, The Marchioness, a wonderful brown -mare, for 350 guineas—rather extravagant, paterfamilias could not help -thinking, but the recollection of his last bank-balance hardened his -heart. She would set Hermione off, who had fine hands and seat; and as -she was a front ranker with the Quorn, with faultless manners, and -declared perfectly sound by two eminent vets., the cheque was handed -over. Vanda was provided with the Admiral, at £180—an extremely safe, -strong, experienced hunter, that ‘you couldn’t throw down.’ ‘Just the -thing for a young lady as was doing her first season,’ the stud groom -said; ‘only wanted lettin’ alone, and trustin’ to his discretion, -like.’ He under-rated Vanda’s abilities, however, as succeeding -seasons were to demonstrate. The boys got one apiece; paterfamilias a -couple—one of which Mrs. Banneret could ride on occasion, when she -went to see a throw off. Their united values totted up to a sum which -caused Mr. Banneret to give a low whistle, accustomed as he had become -to his personal liability for fabulous amounts lately. ‘I wonder what -I should have thought of such a purchase in old times?’ passed through -his mind. ‘However, everything is comparative; when I gave a cheque -for ten thousand for the first payment in the Bundawarra station, I -thought it was an investment that required careful management and some -good luck to carry through. But I little thought I should ever draw -one for two hundred thousand odds, which the Hexham estate comes -to—what the upkeep of it will cost is for the future to proclaim. -However, I see the last accounts from West Australia show the month’s -“clean up” to be a hundred and seventy thousand fine ounces, worth -best part of a million sterling, with the reef growing wider and -richer as it goes down. However, it seems nothing like so good as some -of these Rand mines in South Africa. We live and learn. Let us hope -these young people of ours will estimate their pecuniary position at -its proper value. Their early education has certainly tended to that -end. The stud seems growing fast; however, there is plenty of room. -They say the stables were commenced on this grand scale by the present -Earl’s grandfather, and were left unfinished for forty years. He had a -lucky win on the turf, and made haste to utilise it by completing the -main building, where the clock-tower stands. Had he only known! But of -how many men—even nations—may not that be said! Some day, perhaps, a -classic-quoting critic may fire off _de te fabula narratur_ at some -member of the Banneret family, now so high above the arrows of fate!’ - - * * * * * - -Summer in England! What an idyllic season it was. Now these young -people from a far country began to realise the immense, the -incalculable superiority of a land with a thousand years of history -behind it! Think of it—dwell on it—try to grasp the immeasurable -distinction of belonging to such a kingdom, if not born within its -sea-bordered, sheltered bounds! Consider the inviolate sea! Behold the -land where no foe has set unconquered foot since great Alfred drove -Dane and Norseman far from her cliffs and beaches. The land where -nobles and commoners, alike resentful of tyranny, refused to wait till -constitutional resistance ripened into rebellion, but stood strong, -patient, though menacing, till an overawed tyrant signed the great -Charter of Runnymede, which for all time gave pledge and assurance of -that justice never more to be delayed or bartered to the commons of -England; not alone to them, but to the states, possessions, nations -planted by her hand, and, except by their own act and deed, secure of -that priceless heritage for all time. - -How they enjoyed, how they admired and appreciated, all the feelings -so characteristic of home life of which they had read and heard about -since earliest childhood. The corn, the hayfields, with harvesters, -gleaners, and nut-brown maids—wondering at the abundance of female -labour, so unusual in the colonies, where women are too scarce and -valuable to do field or dairy work for employers outside of the family -circle. ‘Oh, the greenery of England! words cannot describe it!’ as an -Australian lady exclaimed during her first summer in the ancestral -home. ‘The delicious shadowy woodland, where, if the season be -propitious, there comes not any wind or rain, where the green turf is -a velvet carpet, flower-bespangled like an oriental purdah. Where the -wood-rose and eglantine, daffodil and primrose, violet and woodbine, -grace each cottage home!’ - - * * * * * - -The greater number of the amusements and occupations proper to the -summer time had been availed of and thoroughly enjoyed, when word came -from Bruges that Lady Hexham had decided to accept Mrs. Banneret’s -kind invitation to spend a fortnight with her at Hexham Hall. It would -fit in with her arrangements (she said) inasmuch as she was coming -over with her daughter, who was to stay on a visit to a relative for -the remainder of the season, as their doctor believed a change would -be beneficial. She would like to see her old home again, and Lord -Hexham would remain in charge of the family while she was absent. - -The missive was answered promptly, to the effect that Mrs. Banneret -would be charmed to receive the Countess, and trusted that she would -make Hexham her home as long as it suited her to remain in England, -and would by no means confine her visit to the term mentioned. Great -was the excitement which prevailed in the village of Hexham (the news -having leaked out through some of the retainers still in service at -the Hall) when the carriage and waggonette drove up to the station, -and Lady Hexham, with her daughter and maid, descended. They were met -and warmly welcomed by Mrs. Banneret and Hermione, but before they -could reach the carriage there was a perfect rush to intercept them, -headed by superannuated retainers still resident in the village, who -begged, some indeed with tears, to be permitted to pay ‘their -respects,’ as they expressed it, to their former mistress and her -daughter. It was touching to witness the deep feeling of these -survivals of a long-past feudal era. They were not permitted to kneel, -but it was seen how much in accordance with their feelings this act of -homage would have been. - -‘Oh, milady! oh, milady!’ exclaimed the aged ex-gardener and his wife, -in chorus with an infirm stable-helper, a keeper with one arm, and a -deaf laundress. ‘What a mercy that ever we should ha’ lived to see -your Ladyship and Miss Corisande. The Lord above be thanked for it, -and bless His holy name!’ - -Lady Hexham had been a proud woman, and bore herself so even yet, -through all the years of her comparative poverty; but the tears filled -her eyes as she saw the servitors of their former state and grandeur -make lowly obeisance before her. - -‘Well, Benson? How d’ye do, Markham? Glad to see you all looking so -well—and Peggy, and Mrs. Turton, too. I must come and see you in a day -or two—I was afraid I should find some of you in the poorhouse.’ - -‘Yes, milady,’ said an ancient dame, whose gnarled weather-worn -features betokened the octogenarian, ‘and so we should ha’ been, only -for Madam here, and Muster Banneret; they wouldn’t let none on us go -as ’ad bin old servants at the Hall. They found us work about the -place—same as we’d bin used to.’ - -‘Perhaps you wouldn’t object, Lady Hexham, to their coming up -to-morrow,’ interposed her hostess, ‘when they can have some bread and -cheese and beer. You will then be able to hear about their affairs at -your leisure. Come up to the Hall, Benson, at twelve o’clock, and -bring any of the old servants with you. Tell them Lady Hexham would -like to see them.’ - -Lady Hexham bowed without speaking—the words would not come; the sharp -contrast between the new and the old regime had so powerfully affected -her that she was unable to say what she intended. - -The drive, short though it might be, was still impressive, and -doubtless awakened older memories as they passed underneath the -shadowy oaks, and marked the sun-rays glittering through the leaves -of the great chestnuts of the avenue. For the rest, everything was as -trim and well ordered as hands could make it. That perfect neatness of -gravel and grass, flower-bed and foliage, which, in England, speaks of -the abundant cheapness of skilled labour in that particular -department, was combined with the most tasteful arrangement of lawn -and grove and woodland, in broad effects of light and shade. - -‘Banneret had ridden over to a neighbouring estate, but would join -them at dinner,’ his wife said. - -Meanwhile Miss Corisande was received by Hermione and Vanda, by whom -she was carried off to her room, and duly placed in charge of a -personal attendant. - -‘We hope you will make yourself at home, in every sense of the word,’ -said Hermione. ‘We feel like base usurpers. But I daresay we shall get -over the feeling by degrees; you must try and do the same. In your -case it will take rather longer, I fear.’ - -‘Don’t alarm yourself about that,’ replied the Honourable Corisande, -who did not seem inclined to dwell upon the sentimental side of the -affair. ‘I was too young to care much when we left the old Hall for -good; indeed, I side with Dad, and vote it a jolly good thing that -he’d been able to work off the encumbered estate so well. We look upon -your father as our benefactor, I can tell you.’ - -‘That’s very sweet of you, I’m sure,’ said Vanda. ‘I know we shall be -great friends directly. Are you fond of riding? We’ve got a few -decent horses together, and hope to have more.’ - -‘Passionately; but, of course, I haven’t had much practice. There are -none to speak of in Bruges. The English inhabitants are decayed -gentlefolk like ourselves, and the horses belong to the canal boats -mostly. It’s not half a bad old place, though—music and languages -cheap, so it suits us down to the ground. We were very young then, -whereas now’—and here the speaker cast a half-admiring, half-regretful -glance around—‘we should enjoy a change now and then.’ - -‘In that case, perhaps you’d like a canter to-morrow after lunch? -Hermione will lend you her horse, which is quite “well-mannered,” as -English people say. Mine is rather “touchy,” which is Australian for -nervous. Hermione’s habit will fit you, I think.’ - -This arrangement was carried out successfully. The girls went off, -with a groom behind, ‘accoutred proper,’ ready to open gates or -perform any service required. Hermione’s palfrey went smoothly and -pleasantly, conducting himself to the entire satisfaction of the -Honourable Corisande, who said she had no idea she could ride so well. -The fact being, that she had plenty of nerve, and got on very well, -having had an early experience of ponies—which indeed, from their -sudden stoppages and occasional liability to kick, are by no means to -be despised as a preparatory riding-school. So all was peace and joy -when the girls returned. Lady Hexham had paid a visit to an old -friend, to whom she had taken the opportunity to express her opinion -of Mrs. Banneret and her daughters—entirely favourable, at the same -time hinting that she had not expected quite such refined taste or -good manners. - -‘You know, my dear Kate, we are not accustomed to associate such -qualities with wealthy colonists; and those fools of novelists persist -in describing every one who makes money or a career out of England as -either a vulgarian or a German Jew. We ought to know better, -certainly, as every one’s younger sons or brothers have been going to -Australia and New Zealand for generations. Why they should necessarily -turn into clowns or roughs is hard to imagine, if we only took the -trouble to think. But that’s the last thing English people do. We take -everything for granted. I am enchanted with our successors, and quite -endorse what Hexham says of them.’ - -‘And what did he say?’ - -‘Simply, that the family resembled English gentlefolk, all over the -world. That, short of giving the old place back to us, there was -nothing they wouldn’t do. So it’s our fault if they are not our very -good friends henceforth.’ - -So the neighbours parted, Lady Hexham well pleased to have renewed an -old friendship under such reassuring conditions. And when, after -returning to the Hall, the master of the house met them at dinner, the -_entente cordiale_ became so advanced that the Bannerets might have -been taken for the long-lost relations, returned from foreign parts, -laden with the gold and jewels which _used to_ reward those who dared -the dangers of the sea, the hazards of fever and war, in some far -eastern kingdom, where grew the pagoda tree. - -The evening, following a fatiguing day, was spent restfully—a little -music, with more interchange of girlish experiences. For the guests an -early retirement, although Corisande did not leave Vanda’s room for a -‘good hour,’ as the maid alleged, after she had been dismissed. - -However, the three girls were up early, and, after a stroll through -the shrubberies, quite ready for breakfast. - -Though Lady Hexham had only intended to stay for a week, and was, in a -general way, unused to changing her plans, she consented to remain for -a fortnight, at the urgent request of the Banneret girls, who declared -that they would be desolated if Corisande was torn from them before -their garden party came off. This exceptional entertainment—which, -indeed, had been decided upon long before the visit of the Hexhams -came into view—was to be on a scale of grandeur such as had not been -known in the county since the days of the grandfather of the present -Earl, whose extravagant tastes and lavish expenditure had caused the -financial ruin of the family. Gradually Lady Hexham seemed to weaken -in her opposition to the idea, and lastly decided, after the receipt -of a letter from her husband, that she really could not be so -ungracious as to refuse an invitation so kindly made, so warmly -pressed. Lastly, the great outwork having given way, the last -entrenchment yielded. Lord Hexham stated his intention of bringing -over his youngest daughter, who had been included in the earlier -invitation, and sending her by rail from London. For himself—no! He -was sincerely grateful for the great kindness shown to his wife and -daughters, but he would prefer to pay a visit later in the season. And -from this resolve he could not be moved. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -However, this concession was all that could be expected for the -present. It was more liberal, indeed, as Corisande confided to her new -friends, than she had hoped for, until the last moment. - -Vanda was overjoyed at the idea of having a new friend more nearly of -her own age, and declared that nothing was now wanting to ensure her -perfect happiness. Australian friends would be forthcoming to complete -the house-party. If the weather was reasonable, the Hexham Hall -gathering would be one of the glories of the summer. Why, indeed, -should it not be a triumphant success? - -The day—the great day—was fine. Such a glowing morn, tempered, as the -sun-dial advanced towards mid-day, with the deliciously modified shade -of groves which in olden days had seen the ‘green gloom’ of their -depths invaded by the gleam of knightly armour. The Banneret girls, -who had become accustomed to the sumptuous leafage of the English -woodlands, were not so demonstrative as in their first experience. - -But to Corisande, retaining only a dim, half-childish memory, it was -a revelation as of a new heaven, a new earth. The immense girth of -bole, the enormous spread of branch of the oaks, in the ‘King’s -Chase,’ amazed her. There, indeed, the legend ran, had ‘bluff King -Hal’ in person followed the deer. Here, beneath these leafy shades, -had he feasted with nobles, courtiers, and ladies fair. In fancy’s -ear, with cry of hound and huntsman’s hollo, the gay greenwood rang -and re-echoed. What joyous days were those! she thought. How much more -colour and light than in this sad-coloured, prosaic age! - -This, in their hours of idleness, the young people were prone to -imagine, and, indeed, to assert, in hasty generalisation, untempered -by experience. On calmer retrospect they were, however, compelled to -admit that, in larger outlook, variety of occupation, and the wondrous -advance of scientific discovery, the moderns have immeasurably the -best of it. If the age no longer affords such romantic situations as -when - - The Knight looked down from the Paynim Tower, - As a Christian Host, in its pride and power, - Through the pass beneath him wound, - -we must admit that the captive with his ‘heavy chain’ despaired of -release by those ‘whom he loved with a brother’s heart, those in whose -wars he had borne a part, who had left him there to die.’ - - Sound again, clarion! clarion, pour thy blast! - Sound! for the captive’s dream of hope is past. - -‘Can imagination depict a situation more hopeless, more deplorable?’ -remarked Reggie, who now, reading for his ‘double first,’ thought -himself constrained to take the rational side of the argument. - -‘I think Sterne’s prisoner is a close parallel,’ argued Eric. ‘What a -picture it is!’ - -‘But perhaps he had never been a knight,’ suggested Vanda, ‘so he -would not have had a past of gallant strife, with helm and charger and -nodding plume, to look back upon; perhaps not even a victory in the -lists, like Wilfred of Ivanhoe, with his opponent rolling in the sand, -and his ladye-love, amid the beauty and fashion (smart set of the -period) looking on. Would that have comforted him in his dungeon, or -otherwise, do you think?’ - -‘Rather hard to say. Who is the true heroine of that delightful novel -_Ivanhoe_?—as the lists of Ashby-de-la-Zouche are referred to.’ - -‘Rebecca, of course! Thackeray, in his inimitable ending of the novel, -absolutely destroys Rowena, who settled down as a worthy mate for the -doltish Athelstane.’ - -‘_Now_, look here, Reggie!’ said Eric impressively; ‘if once we get -fairly started on Sir Walter, we shall never get to the garden party, -or the great Hexham Hall revels, or, indeed, anywhere else in the -kingdom of fact and practical politics. Hadn’t we all better “split -and squander,” as they used to do in the old Border days, when they -had managed some particularly lawless deed of murder and rapine? We -shall have my mother reading the Riot Act (which she can do on -occasions, mild as she looks). I wouldn’t presume to dictate to Miss -Aylmer, as an honoured guest, entitled to respectful deference, but -would merely suggest that an adjournment to the scene of action, as -volunteers for the duties of preparation, would be safer for -her—indeed, for all of _us_.’ - -‘Come with me, Corie,’ said Vanda. ‘Hermie and I will protect you; -and, indeed, there is some sense in what Eric says—rarely as it -happens to be the case.’ - -They were just in time to be detailed for active service. Of course -the caterer-general had organised his forces, and was directing the -movements of his officers, not to mention the rank and file, of whom -there appeared to be hundreds. Still, it was necessary to have -aides-de-camp and attachés between the controlling powers and the -heads of departments, and for this important service the young -people—eager, intelligent, and alert—answered admirably. To be sure, -they had additional assistance, which could hardly be overestimated. -This contingent had arrived by train while they had been discussing -literary questions, and had at once been requisitioned by -Mrs. Banneret. Captain the Honourable Jack Aylmer, of the Guards, the -eldest son, heir to the title and lordship of Hexham, if but to little -else, was a steady, hard-working young officer, devoted to his -profession, who had been wounded in South Africa, and had gained the -proud privilege of having had the D.S.O. decoration attached to his -uniform by His Majesty King Edward in person, the while Lord Roberts -looked on approvingly. The sailor brother, Lieutenant the Honourable -Falkland Aylmer, whose ship the _Palmyra_ had happened to get over -from Malta about that time, dashed into action at once, and proved -himself to be the right man in the right place. Who does not know how -the ‘handy man’ can multiply his inventive talents, and communicate -his mesmeric quality at pinch of need? So when, on that wondrous -morning, the mid-summer sun, all goldenly defiant of meadow mists and -woodland shadows, irradiated the scene, Hermione, Vanda, and their -young friends were satisfied, even exultant, though occasionally -tremulous lest anything important had been overlooked. - -But as the programme had been considered and debated, submitted to the -host and hostess over and over again, there was little risk of such -mischance occurring. - -Twelve o’clock had been mentioned as the hour when the sports would -begin, but long before mid-day all entrances to the park were crowded -with a continuous stream of country people. As they arrived, they were -taken in charge by the land steward and persons in authority under -him, who disposed them in groups, so that they should diverge to -different localities in the park and chase. There, under the shade of -immemorial elms and oaks, might they rest and recreate after the long -walk which, no doubt, many of them had taken. - -Every kind of game, with due forethought, had been arranged for, and -prizes made ready for proficiency in those rustic sports, to excel in -which, since earliest Saxon days, had been the pride of rural England. -Running and leaping, wrestling, cricket, single-stick, and football -were all duly provided for. Scores of athletic youths contested -eagerly. The adjudging of the prizes gave general satisfaction, while -their unusual quality and value elicited hearty praise. - -For the village lasses, similar contests and excitements were not -wanting. These were of a gentler kind, tending to improvement in the -domestic arts: needlework in all its branches, as expressed in the -making and repairing of garments for children and others of the -household. For girls under fourteen, and those under sixteen, foot -races were got up, which tested the pace and staying power of the -younger damsels. These had always been popular contests, and could not -have been omitted from the programme without causing dissatisfaction. -Skipping, rounders, and hockey were not neglected, though at this last -exercise occasional falls provoked the mirth of the bystanders, and a -black eye or two, with other bruises, bore witness to the earnestness -of the competing sides. The young men rode at the quintain, wrestled, -boxed, pole-jumped, and tent-pegged, played at bowls, and revived the -ancient game of quarter-staff. Last, not least, the prize for archery, -a handsome and valuable one, aroused such feelings of emulation in the -Dianas of the Hexham and West Essex Clubs as had not been known since -the celebrated match which Lady Hexham recalled, in the days of her -youth, when she was a noted performer, and princes and nobles -contended for the honour of collecting her arrows. To conclude the -day’s entertainment there were hack and pony races, hurdles and -steeplechases. These last, Australian innovations, were, however, -modified by restriction of the men and horses to the families of -tenants on the estate who took an interest in the nearest pack of -hounds, and found it pay to school a promising four-year-old, likely -to bring a good price at the beginning of the next season. - -The invitation committee had extended the list over a fairly wide -social range. Besides the squirearchy of the county and the -neighbouring gentry, the farmers and tradespeople, the tenants with -their families, and their visitors too, came as a matter of right. -There was room, and a welcome for all. It was hoped that no one who -had worked in the fields, or on the grounds of Hexham, would stay -away. And judging from the continuous march of people on foot and -horseback, in tax-carts, dog-carts, gigs, and waggons, very few did. - -Soon after mid-day the immense tables, placed on tressels, were -covered, as if by magic, with viands of every sort, kind, and -description, arranged ready for the speedy consumption which it was -correctly assumed would take place. Products of the home farm and many -others were displayed, replaced, and continuously provided, in -never-ending profusion. Beer flowed as if from a fountain. The roast -beef of Old England in barons and sirloins, fish and fowl, mutton and -lamb, pork and veal, puddings and pies, fruit, cakes,—all these and -more were assiduously furnished for the banquet of which all present -were pressed and encouraged to partake. - -While the rural contingent was judiciously dispersed and subdivided, -so as to prevent the assemblage of an unwieldy crowd, it had been -necessary, in the interest of settled order and good government, to -invite a selection of the leading families of this and adjacent -counties, to head the entertainment. The Duke of Dorlingham had -graciously honoured his invitation, while earls and barons, with a -proportion of baronets and long-descended country gentlemen, responded -cordially, so that the great marquee, erected some days previously, -under the personal supervision of a transatlantic firm of caterers, -well known in London, Brighton, and Australia, was filled with an -assemblage of aristocratic personages, from whose ranks but few -individuals of distinction in the county were absent. - -The accessories left little to be desired. The cuisine was undeniable; -the waiting service at table was as nearly perfect as could be -accomplished at an _al fresco_ entertainment; the wines were -admittedly beyond criticism. The turf around the temporary structure -was in perfect condition; the branches of the great oaks waved -banner-like above the festive concourse: - - The self-same shadows flecked the sward - In the days of good Queen Anne; - -while within the enormous canvas walls, genuine enjoyment and -tempered hilarity commenced with the popping of the first champagne -cork, nor waned until the call for silence preceded that loyal toast -never absent from any festal function of importance in Britain or her -Colonies. - -Then the Duke of Dorlingham rose in his place at the head of the -principal table. On his right sat Arnold Banneret, on his left the -Honourable Corisande Aylmer, flushed with the consciousness of youth -and beauty, heightened by the possession of an exalted position and -acknowledged distinction. The Duke had whispered his congratulations -to Corisande on their return to England under circumstances, he -trusted he might say, favourable to the future fortunes of his old -friend’s family. - -‘Indeed, your Grace,’ said the girl, ‘I don’t think we could have had -a happier return to Hexham short of the dear old place being given -back to us. It is quite a fairy tale, and Mr. and Mrs. Banneret are -the angels of the story.’ - -‘I feel ready to believe it, my dear Corisande, and I hope when you -come to Dorlingham with your new friends to hear all about it. I trust -that Lady Hexham, whom I must see before I go, is quite well? But -these good folks have nearly finished cheering, so I must begin my -speech.’ - -‘He had always,’ his Grace said, ‘been in sincere sympathy with those -daring adventurers who, following in the wake of Drake and Raleigh, -Frobisher and Oxenham, had done so much for the glory and expansion of -England. His friend’s grandfather, finding the limits of our island -home insufficient, had sailed away in his own galley, a modern -Viking, across the Pacific Ocean, to the wider, unshared, half-unknown -lands under the Southern Cross, so late discovered, so rich in -promise. A voyager over uncharted seas, amid hostile tribes, he had -faced dangers, had encountered strange adventures, upon which he would -not at present dwell. It would suffice to say that he found there, -what he went so far to seek—a noble appanage to the Empire. (Cheers.) -A land where millions of British-born and British-descended people -were now living in peace, in comfort, and comparative affluence, under -conditions such as Englishmen had always demanded for themselves and -their families: conditions of equal laws, of well-paid industries—in -circumstances, too, giving hope of a still more prosperous future. -Their host, after securing an auriferous property of exceptional -richness, had decided to come “home,” as Australians wherever settled -still called Old England, in order to invest a portion of his capital -in the purchase of an English estate. Such returning colonists, he had -always held, were of the greatest possible advantage to the -mother-country—not to one class alone, but to all classes—by the -employment of labour, the circulation of capital, and, possibly, by -the introduction of new ideas. Men like their host, representative of -Newer Englands and Greater Britains beyond the seas, had helped to -build great cities and add vast tracts of fertile land to her ancient -sovereignty—to her newly consolidated Empire. They increased year by -year the volume of her trade and commerce, so world-wide and -far-stretching, the foundation on which so much of England’s “might, -majesty, and dominion” rested. - -‘They might judge by what they had seen and enjoyed to-day, of what -value to the old country men like their worthy host were likely to be. -He would not weary them. He was not a man of words, but his friends -knew that what he said, he meant. His heart was in the toast which he -gave them; there was no need to ask them to drink it with all the -honours—their worthy host and hostess, with their amiable family and -friends’ (here he looked paternally at Corisande), ‘and long life to -them, to enjoy what they have so honourably gained, so liberally -used.’ - -Arnold Banneret stood up in his place and faced the great assemblage. -He looked around for a few seconds, permitting the applause which had -followed the Duke’s peroration to die down. He met his wife’s gaze, -half-proud, half-overcome by mingled feelings. He read the expression -on her countenance, with the tear which dimmed her eye but did not -fall. He knew that she was recalling the days of hard endeavour—the -doubts at times, almost the despair, which had clouded early days in -their chequered life, and now as he stood there, with plaudits -resounding in his honour, his heart swelled high with natural pride -and satisfaction. - -‘My Lord Duke, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘it would be -insincere for me to deny that I feel intensely the compliment, I -may say the honour, paid me by his Grace and this distinguished -and representative assemblage. - -‘That the work is hard, the privations severe, in the pioneer’s life -may not be denied; but the difficulties, though grave, are not greater -than thousands of Britons have been willing to encounter in the -pursuit of fame and fortune, and, thank God! are still willing for -such prizes to risk all that men hold dear. In the mysterious lottery -of life there is no denying the presence of an element known as -Chance, defying all calculation, and turning the balance to success or -failure. “The race,” as they all knew, “was not always to the swift, -nor the battle to the strong.” They had the warrant of Holy Writ for -that. In his own experience he had seen it often exemplified. Of his -comrades, one of the boldest explorers, one of the most capable -pioneers of the Great West Australian desert, survived but to fall a -victim in later years to the arrow of a Nigerian savage; another not -less dauntless, and, in time of need, patient of hunger, thirst, and -all but the direst extremity of famine, a master of woodcraft—ever -tireless, cheerful, and inventive, lay beneath South African sands. -But why dwell on failure or disaster—on history as old as humanity? -He, by God’s grace, had _not_ failed, but stood there to-day—not -proud, not vainglorious, but grateful to the bottom of his heart for -that Divine mercy which had shielded him in danger and distress, in -the dreary days when he lay under the shadow of death. And, next to -the interposition of Divine Providence, was he indebted to the lady -who sat by Sir Piers Hazelwood, his dear, constant, faithful wife, -who had nursed him in sickness, cheered him in misfortune, and been -bravest and most steadfast in the darkest hour before dawn. -(Continuous cheering.) He would say, in conclusion, that he recognised -the exceptional good fortune which had come to him, less for his -personal advantage, than for the power it gave of benefiting his -fellow-creatures, and relieving those less fortunately circumstanced.’ -(Tremendous cheering.) - -Other toasts were given—other speeches made. Due honour was paid to -Lady Hexham, by personal friends and acquaintances of the family, many -of whom had come far to greet her. She was visibly affected, and -though actuated naturally by conflicting feelings, declared to -Mrs. Banneret that she never expected to feel so happy again. As for -Hermione and Vanda, they kept assuring their mother that they quite -realised all ‘the claims of long descent,’ and couldn’t think of -letting Corisande go back to Bruges. Mrs. Banneret was quite willing -to adopt her; Eric and Reggie followed suit; and so, with more happy -nonsense, ‘God save the King’ was struck up by the much-enduring band, -and the great assemblage commenced to disperse, homewardly intent. - -But the summer day in the Northern Isles is long—the twilight extends -far into the night. There was a moon also; and the soft, warm mellow -eve lingered, hour after hour, till the last departing revellers were -safely lighted on their path. There was universal consensus of -opinion—genuinely, if variously, in some cases incongruously, -expressed—that it was many a year since there had been the like of it -at Hexham Hall; it was almost too good to be true that there would be -another such meeting next year. ‘Well, God bless Squire Banneret, -anyhow!’ was the benediction which mostly concluded the argument and -assertions. The summer day was spent, indeed the lingering twilight -had long invaded the scene, when the rearguard of the great host of -guests and revellers moved homeward, echoing in various forms of -speech the common sentiment of grateful appreciation. The drags and -carriages, phaetons and dog-carts, had rolled, and rattled, and -rumbled along the high roads and lanes hours before, but still the -rural visitors, chiefly on foot, thronged the pathways. Amid the -confused murmur of voices the dominant note of assent was the -declaration that the county had never seen such a treat before, so -thoroughly carried out in every detail, and that if, as was promised, -such an entertainment would be annual, the tenants and humbler -neighbours would have indeed cause to bless the day when the Bannerets -came among them. - -As for the families, as represented by Lady Hexham, the Honourable -Corisande and her brothers, together with Mr. and Mrs. Banneret, with -their sons and daughters, there could not have been found a more -harmonious _rapprochement_ of the old order and the new. The girls -were frankly, genuinely fond of one another by this time, a feeling -which threatened to extend beyond the division of sex,—the Honourable -Falkland, who had recently been in command of a torpedo-destroyer, -paying rather marked attention to Hermione, and Miss Corisande -inclining to argumentative discussions with Reggie upon the relative -advantages, or otherwise, of old and new countries. Nothing had -advanced beyond the ordinary limits of friendliness; yet there were -signs and tokens, recognised by keen observers, that such positions -were, under favourable circumstances, capable of being permanently -strengthened. - -As for the seniors, they were resting from their labours after the -exciting performance which had been successful beyond all expectation. -A series of leisurely rambles through the, as yet, untraversed beauty -spots of Britain had been considered as an autumnal engagement, in -which Lady Hexham consented, after a vain attempt to stem the tide of -opposition, as represented by the allied forces of untitled Hexham, to -permit her daughter to join. They could not, even she admitted, hope -to secure a more wise, experienced chaperon than Mrs. Banneret, not to -mention Mr. Banneret, who had been lauded, in his magisterial -capacity, for ‘admirable firmness and discretion’ under conditions -scarcely differentiated indeed from those of civil war. This being the -case, Lady Hexham gracefully assented, remarking that it appeared to -her quite time to return to her husband, and the rest of the family, -if she did not wish him to think her ashamed of their humble home at -Bruges. This view of the case appeared so painful, that Corisande -offered to return on the spot, but the proposal lapsed in default of -a seconder, or general moral support. - -On the following day Lady Hexham left for home, previously assuring -Mrs. Banneret that she had enjoyed her visit more than she could have -possibly imagined, entirely through the kindness of Mrs. Banneret -herself, and her family; she never thought that their years of exile -could have ended with such a home-coming. It made amends in great -measure for the sorrow caused by their ruin, and gave hope for the -restoration of the family to its former position. Once it had appeared -hopeless, but now, on account of the fortunate sale of the estate, and -the unusual liberality of the purchaser, her most kind and generous -husband, they had hope of returning to England in a few years, under -brighter auspices. She asked her to believe that she was truly -grateful, and bade God bless her in the future, and all belonging to -her. So the ladies embraced and bade adieu; the one pleased to -recognise a warm heart and kindly feelings under an apparently cold -manner, and the other ready to uphold Australians as the most -warm-hearted, delicate-minded, delightful people on the face of the -earth. - - * * * * * - -‘All good things must come to an end,’ says the venerable adage, and -the Hexham Hall garden party was no exception to the ancient saw. The -summer was now at its height, the next change would be a decadent one, -after which the leaves would fall, and people begin to talk about -autumn winds, declining days, and other depressing subjects. Hence it -was necessary to arrange for whatever plan of travel the family -decided to carry out before winter was upon them, with its over-full -programme of dances, dinners, hunting fixtures, and other absolutely -necessary functions. The need for travel began to obtrude itself. -Young men and maidens, with their attendant parents and guardians (for -such indeed, nowadays, is the order in which the migration of families -must be described), began to talk of guides, alpenstocks, and other -foreign necessaries, the glories of the ascent of the Matterhorn, or -the panorama from the Rigi. - -However, after a full and exhaustive survey of plans and projects, the -decision was practically unanimous in favour of Britain. So much had -been dared and done during the present year, that it was agreed not to -tempt the chances of foreign travel until a peaceful interval of -restful rambles in the ancestral mother-land had made them fully -conversant with all the scenes of interest, beauty, and historic fame, -with the leading characteristics of which their reading had made them -familiar. - -The party of travel was to be commanded by Mr. and Mrs. Banneret: -efficient, conventional chaperonage being, of course, indispensable. -It was many years since the parents had enjoyed the opportunity of a -quiet progress through historic scenes, which their general culture -fitted them so eminently to enjoy. When they had the leisure, they had -been without the pecuniary facilities, without which tourists are -necessarily hampered. Now they were in possession of both. They left -Hexham, therefore, with the intention of enjoying to the fullest -extent the fortunate combination, which comes so rarely in this -troubled life of ours. The Hexham girls, titled and untitled, numbered -three—Hermione, Corisande, and Vanda. Two of these were abbreviated to -Corie and Hermie for the greater convenience of intimate friendly -converse, Vanda pleading that her name was sufficiently short, and -that ‘Van’ sounded rather Dutch. It was resolved to reserve this -weighty matter for the test of experience and time. - -But little time was wasted after the preliminaries were agreed upon. -Something was said about following the route and the practice of some -latter-day Canterbury pilgrims, and walking from London to that -celebrated shrine. A party of Australian friends, not very dissimilar -in number and artistic taste, had done so some years since, sending on -their baggage by coach and rail to the terminus of each stage. But the -elders of this party dissented from the proposition. - -In the first place, it was unnecessarily fatiguing; also expensive in -time. They had an extended tour to consider, and would find that, -although they claimed to be over the average, as pedestrians, -sufficient exercise would be provided before their return. - -Moderate counsels prevailed, and though the younger division were -eager for the Pilgrim’s staff and Cockle-shell business, the rail and -coach party carried its amendment. After this, what was to be the -first objective? The Lakes—Windermere, Grasmere, the Wordsworth -country, Rydal Mount, and so on. Yes, decidedly. - -They were fortunate in finding a decent hostelry near Grasmere, which -served as a _pied à terre_, whence they could sally forth into the -‘royaulme of faerye,’ and revel in memories of the glorious dead. Here -was the Poet’s ‘little nook of mountain ground,’ overlooking the Lake -of Grasmere. Here he lived for eight years, hither he brought his -bride— - - The perfect woman, nobly planned - To warn, to comfort, and command, - -with whom he lived, in purest love and unclouded happiness, even unto -his life’s end. - -The inn was not pretentious; there was no crowd of tourists to conduce -to landlordly independence and the heightening of prices. But it was -delicately clean; host and hostess were thankful for the patronage of -such a company, and duly respectful. The view from their chamber -windows was extensive and romantic, commanding a prospect of the vale -of the Rothay and the distant waters of the Lake. - -‘Now that breakfast is over,’ said Vanda—‘and, oh! what a lovely sleep -I had—and every one seems to have eaten enough to last till to-morrow -morning, I vote that we lose no time, but get over to Rydal Mount the -very first thing. Luckily the day is fine. I suppose we must walk?’ - -‘Walk? Why, of course!’ said Eric. ‘You don’t suppose we’ve come to -this jolly Lake country, with views, and sunrises, and suchlike -floating all about, to be jolted in the shandrydan of the period? It -will freshen us up after the riotous doings at Hexham, where we must -have given our constitutions rather “a nasty bump,” to say the least -of it.’ - -‘Don’t talk in that horrid mundane way,’ said Hermione, who was -verging on the sentimental, semi-poetical period of life. ‘There, -yonder, is Rydal Mount on the side of the hill, “The modest house, yet -covered with the Virginia creeper,” and overlooking that lovely -Windermere. Surely no poet was ever more delightfully lodged?’ - -‘No poet was ever so happy in the whole world, I believe,’ assented -Corisande—‘except perhaps Tennyson. Just think! He had married the -“perfect woman, nobly planned”; he had the nicest, sweetest, -devotedest sister, who agreed with the perfect woman, which doesn’t -always happen. He was contented, even thankful for his lot. He had -leisure—friends too, who _were_ friends, that is, friends in need. -They stood by him when such support was of value: Raisley Calvert, who -left him a legacy of a thousand pounds, which sufficed to give him -leisure and ease of mind just when he most required it; and Lord -Lonsdale, who paid up his father’s debt, which meant life-long -independence.’ - -‘How very seldom the friends of poets and writers,’ said -Mrs. Banneret, ‘think of the very thing which would earn their -everlasting gratitude! They flatter and profess admiration, but stop -short of substantial benefits. But, perhaps, after all, the poet’s -healthiest frame of mind is that of independence. Being compelled to -work certainly brings out the best fruit of a man’s intellect.’ - -‘Yes, indeed! Yet it is pitiable to think how poets and dramatists, -not to mention the herd of fictionists, worked under depressing -conditions of penury, even absolute want. Read the private papers of -Henry Ryecroft, which no doubt faithfully represented the experience -of the author. It makes your heart ache—the direst poverty, hunger and -cold, shivering in semi-starvation—think of a London winter under such -conditions! How he could have produced the work he did is a marvel!’ - -‘I may be allowed to remark, perhaps,’ said Mr. Banneret, in a -judicial tone of voice, ‘that we are wandering from the direct path in -discussing the abstract question of a poet’s freedom from care bearing -upon the quality of his work. As to the quantity, it may, and no doubt -would, make a serious deduction if at breakfast time the singer or -seer was uncertain as to the periodicity of dinner. But I am inclined -to think that, as to _quality_, the enforced abstinence and lack of -material comfort were distinctly favourable to the “divine afflatus.”’ - -‘That being so,’ said Reggie, ‘and I am inclined to agree with you, -sir, we ought to address ourselves to the practical side of our -undertaking. Before we make a start for Rydal Mount we are bound to -inaugurate the worship of the Poet by the ladies repeating some of his -lovely lyrics. We must put it to the vote, and whoever gains the -largest number must recite the poem which she deems to be the most -distinctly representative of the Poet’s genius? Who is the Wordsworth -scholar of the party? and what does the lady assert to be one of the -Poet’s lyric triumphs?’ - -The voting was in favour of Mrs. Banneret. That lady confessed that -she had not been an exhaustive student of the poet under discussion, -or indeed of any other—had not had time of late years. But in an old -scrap-album of her girlhood’s days might be found several of his -poems, which she had copied out. One which she still remembered was -‘The Fountain.’ - -‘It always appeared to me,’ she said, ‘most truly representative of -Wordsworth’s sympathy with Nature; of his power of investing the most -ordinary incidents with - - ‘The gleam, - The light that never was, on sea or land, - The consecration, and the Poet’s dream— - -almost with a sacred simplicity, but still appealing to the heart as -ornate phrases rarely succeed in doing. I still remember the opening -verses of - - ‘THE FOUNTAIN - - ‘We talked with open heart, and tongue - Affectionate and true, - A pair of friends, though I was young, - And Matthew seventy-two. - - ‘We lay beneath a spreading oak, - Beside a mossy seat; - And from the turf a fountain broke, - And gurgled at our feet. - - ‘“Now, Matthew,” said I, “let us match - The water’s pleasant tune - With some old Border song, or catch - Which suits a summer noon; - - ‘“Or of the church-clock and the chimes - Sing here beneath the shade, - That half-mad thing of witty rhymes - Which you last April made!” - - ‘In silence Matthew lay, and eyed - The spring beneath the tree; - And thus the dear old man replied— - The grey-haired man of glee: - - ‘“No check, no stay, this streamlet fears; - How merrily it goes! - ’Twill murmur on a thousand years, - And flow as now it flows. - - ‘“And here, on this delightful day, - I cannot choose but think - How oft, a vigorous man, I lay - Beside this fountain’s brink. - - ‘“My eyes are dim with childish tears, - My heart is idly stirred, - For the same sound is in my ears - Which in those years I heard. - - ‘“Thus fares it still in our decay: - And yet the wiser mind - Mourns less for what Age takes away - Than what it leaves behind.”’ - -Here the lady paused. ‘I think these verses are all that I can -remember of the poem at present. But they impressed themselves on my -memory long since, as a delicious description of calmly happy old age, -of friendship founded on sympathetic tastes, with a setting for the -incident of the rural loveliness of an English summer day.’ - -Much applause was evoked by the recitation, given with taste and -feeling. - -‘Why, mother, I had no idea you had such a sentimental vein in your -composition,’ said Hermione. ‘Vanda and I used to think you were quite -stern about unprofitable reading, as you used to call anything but -history and language in the old Carjagong days!’ - -‘Everything depends upon the proper time and place,’ replied -Mrs. Banneret, with a quiet smile. ‘You girls and boys would have -learned very little if you had not been kept to your morning lessons -in those days.’ - -‘But we were so terribly fond of books,’ argued Vanda; ‘it ran in the -blood. Why, father used to read on _horseback_, when he took those -journeys to other goldfields and places—when he was driving, too—by -himself; you know he did!’ - -‘It was very natural, I’m sure,’ replied Mrs. Banneret. ‘Riding or -driving all day, by one’s self, is rather dull. Bishop Percy and his -wife, a charming woman, travelled in all weathers, through the -diocese, in a dog-cart. She used to read aloud while he drove.’ - -‘I remember them quite well,’ said Hermione, ‘when they stopped at our -old station. I was quite a small child. They had no children. You -couldn’t have done that, mother, though you would have liked it, I -know.’ - -‘Indeed I should, but you tiresome children came in the way of that -and many other recreations. What do you say at cricket when the -innings is over? “Next man in”—isn’t it? I think mine is over, and -that we should call upon Corisande for a contribution, and then -adjourn any other intellectual exercise to a future occasion.’ - -This motion, being put to the vote, was carried, and the young lady in -question, being entreated not to delay the movement of the pilgrimage, -graciously consented, remarking: ‘I am very fond of birds, so all my -friends will understand the reason why I volunteer to give - - ‘THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN - - ‘At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, - Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: - Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard - In the silence of morning the song of the bird. - - ‘’Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees - A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; - Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, - And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. - - ‘Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, - Down which she so often has tripped with her pail; - And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove’s, - The only one dwelling on earth that she loves. - - ‘She looks, and her heart is in Heaven: but they fade, - The mist and the river, the hill and the shade: - The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, - And the colours have all passed away from her eyes!’ - -The acclamations were loud, so general, so prolonged, that an encore -was even demanded. Mr. Banneret, who had been unanimously elected -stage manager, felt it his duty to declare that no encores would be -permitted. ‘But,’ continued he, ‘as my wife and Miss Corisande have -complied with the general wish, I think it only fair that my daughters -should furnish their share, which I think can be managed without -serious delay to the expedition. Vanda, dear child, lead off! I know -you have a choice.’ - -‘Oh, certainly! Corisande told us she was fond of birds; now I am -passionately fond of flowers. It will be quite in keeping therefore -with the spirit of our show if I choose - - ‘THE DAFFODILS - - ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud - Which floats on high o’er vales and hills, - When all at once I saw a crowd, - A host, of golden daffodils; - Beside the lake, beneath the trees, - Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. - - ‘Continuous as the stars that shine - And twinkle on the milky way, - They stretched in never-ending line - Along the margin of a bay: - Ten thousand saw I at a glance, - Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. - - ‘The waves beside them danced; but they - Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: - A poet could not but be gay - In such a jocund company: - I gazed—and gazed—but little thought - What wealth the show to me had brought: - - ‘For oft, when on my couch I lie - In vacant or in pensive mood, - They flash upon the inward eye - Which is the bliss of solitude; - And then my heart with pleasure fills, - And dances with the daffodils.’ - -‘Next girl in,’ said Eric. ‘Hermie dear, don’t block the procession; -consider all the pretty things said of Vanda’s artless lay. We know -how fond she is of the bliss of solitude, and how ready to dance with -the daffodils, or other eligible partners.’ - -‘Chiefly in order to put an end to your cheap sarcasm,’ retorted -Hermione, ‘also to finish the affair decently, I will make an attempt -to render “The Solitary Reaper.” I remember weeping bitterly over it -in childhood. - - ‘THE SOLITARY REAPER - - ‘Behold her, single in the field, - Yon solitary Highland lass! - Reaping and singing by herself; - Stop here, or gently pass! - Alone she cuts and binds the grain, - And sings a melancholy strain; - O listen! for the vale profound - Is overflowing with the sound. - - ‘No nightingale did ever chaunt - More welcome notes to weary bands - Of travellers in some shady haunt, - Among Arabian sands: - Such thrilling voice was never heard - In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird, - Breaking the silence of the seas - Among the farthest Hebrides. - - ‘Will no one tell me what she sings?— - Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow - For old, unhappy, far-off things, - And battles long ago: - Or is it some more humble lay, - Familiar matter of to-day? - Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, - That has been, and may be again? - - ‘Whate’er the theme, the maiden sang - As if her song could have no ending; - I saw her singing at her work, - And o’er the sickle bending;— - I listened, motionless and still; - And, as I mounted up the hill, - The music in my heart I bore, - Long after it was heard no more.’ - -‘Charmin’! charmin’! absolutely, truly excellent!’ said the Honourable -Falkland Aylmer, R.N. ‘Emphasis perfect, very clear and distinct -intonation, but there’s one triflin’ thing I noticed—slight departure -from “well of English undefiled”—probably Australian fashion; excuse -me for alludin’ to it.’ - -‘Oh, of course, certainly!’ said Hermione. ‘I know I’m only “a -despisable colonist” (as the author of _Sam Slick_ said), but mother -and father are rather purists, and we fancied that we spoke tolerable -English.’ - -Falkland Aylmer’s blue eyes danced with mischief and merriment at his -successful ‘draw,’ thinking the while how handsome the girl looked -with sudden glance and heightened colour; but putting on an expression -of exaggerated humility he said, ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have -noticed—rather rude, of course—but you and Miss Vanda are so perfect -in intonation generally, that I thought I would venture just to -hint——’ - -‘On the contrary, I feel sure,’ said Hermione, with a certain -stateliness of manner, ‘that my people would hold themselves deeply -indebted to you for pointing out any provincialisms—no twang, I -trust?’ - -By this time the rest of the family had gathered round, amused and -expectant. - -‘Pray don’t keep us waiting, Mr. Aylmer,’ said Vanda. ‘You don’t know -Hermie when she’s roused, though she looks so quiet.’ Here every one -burst out laughing; her amiability being proverbial. - -‘If I must, I must—I rely on the mercy of the Court’—here he lowered -his voice to a deep and impressive bass—‘but you can’t deny that you -pronounce the final “g.”’ - -‘Of course I do,’ replied the girl, who could not help smiling, as -indeed did all the spectators. - -‘But you shouldn’t—oh, really, you shouldn’t, dear lady! You said -“bending,” and “reaping,” and “singing.” We heard you distinctly -“thrilling” also.’ - -‘Of course I did; and why not?’ the girl answered, with a distinctly -bellicose air—looking indeed as if she was likely to confirm Vanda’s -assertion of the possession of an unexpected temper. ‘We were taught -that dropping the “g” was next door to the unforgivable sin of -dropping the “h.”’ - -‘But it’s not good form, dear Miss Banneret, to sound the final “g.” -Nobody does it—that is, nobody that is anybody. The other way is -old-fashioned.’ - -‘I don’t care,’ retorted the valiant Hermione; ‘our Australian way is -good English, and that I’ll abide by. The other is an affectation, a -senseless departure, copied by silly people who believe it to be -fashionable—like “dwopping” the “r.”’ - -‘Assure you, it’s nevah done now,’ said her critical reviewer; ‘though -I think I must “pwactise,” if only to take a “wise” out of you and -Miss Vanda.’ - -‘We shall have to arrange an ambush for you to fall into,’ replied -Hermione, laughing good-humouredly. ‘We are willing to mend our ways -in minor matters when we think we are wrong, but not merely to copy -English fashions because they _are_ English, which would be -affectation indeed, and very properly expose us to ridicule.’ - -‘_Nothing_ that you or Miss Vanda could say or do would end so -disastrously. I hope you believe me,’ he added in a lower tone, ‘and -forgive my imprudence?’ - -‘I grant you my royal pardon,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I -confess that we Australians are just a trifle touchy, and I began to -be frightened that I had committed some enormity.’ - - * * * * * - -Saturated as the feminine division of the pilgrims was with the -Wordsworth cult, nothing but the necessity of laying out regular -stages and abiding by them prevented them from lingering in this -enchanted spot. - -But the route was given; the leaders decreed the hour; and protests -were unavailing. - - But, hark! the summons—down the placid lake - Floats the soft cadence of the church-tower bells. - - * * * * * - -Northward, ever northward, was now the appointed course of the -wanderers: across moor and fell to Yorkshire, with its somewhat rude -inhabitants. Uninviting as it was in appearance, with barren-looking -moors and desolate stretches of rocky undulations, it held within its -bosom a jewel of priceless worth. There stood the lonely parsonage of -world-wide fame, where had lived the Brontë family—the wondrous girls -who, from that dreary parsonage, standing among graves, on a -wind-beaten hill-top, aroused the admiration of the keenest literary -intelligences of the period. Then the order of the day was the route -to Keighley in Yorkshire, four miles only from Haworth; and to -Keighley by ordinary, perhaps prosaic, methods the pilgrims proceeded. - -For to Keighley, they were aware, the Brontës, these strange children, -fiercely desirous of knowledge of all and every kind and sort, were -accustomed to walk from the village of Haworth. Why? Because there was -a draper’s shop? Because there was at rare intervals a fair of the -period? None of these provincial recreations interested this -remarkable family. No! But because there was a circulating library. -For that sole reason did these delicate little creatures undertake the -rough moorland walk of eight miles—four miles there and four miles -back—‘happy, though often tired to death, if only they brought home a -novel by Scott or a poem by Southey.’ Brought home! To what a home did -the tired feet and aching limbs bring these eager searchers after -knowledge! To a ‘grey parsonage standing among graves, on a -wind-beaten hill-top; the neighbouring summits wild with moors. A -lonely place, among half-dead ash trees and stunted thorns. The world -cut off on one side by the still ranks of the serried dead; distanced -on the other by mile-wide stretches of heath.’ Such, we know, was -Emily Brontë’s home, the vicinity inhabited by Catharine, by -Heathcliff, by Earnshaw, and Hindley. - -‘Oh, what a dreadful place to live in!’ cried Hermione; ‘it recalls -Kinglake’s description of the country around Jerusalem—“a land -unspeakably desolate and ghastly”—no wonder the poor things died early -and Branwell drank. When one thinks of that murderous school at Cowan -Bridge it is hard to restrain one’s feelings.’ - -‘Some people love moors and fells,’ argued Vanda; ‘there’s a wild and -rugged grandeur about them; and Yorkshiremen, next to the Scots, are -among the boldest of the races of Britain. Look at the men and women -we watched going to that mill!’ - -‘All very well,’ said her unconvinced sister. ‘The climate kills off -the weak ones; but what of those poor, sensitive little creatures, -shivering and ill-fed, in that unhealthy, undrained hole? That -fanatical idiot of a clergyman ought to have been sent to gaol, and a -teacher or two hanged! He was rich too, and thanked God for the -progress of the school, while these dear babes starved by inches.’ - -‘Gently, my dear Hermie!’ said Reggie; ‘he’s not the only historical -personage who has killed, or tortured, for the glory of God; but the -whole affair is plunged in lamentation, mourning, and woe. I vote we -leave for Scotland by the early train to-morrow.’ - -‘By the very earliest,’ Eric agreed. ‘Another day here would send us -back to Hexham—despairing of life, and fit for nothing but suicide.’ - -‘All the same, moors and heaths have their redeeming features,’ -insisted Vanda. ‘Don’t you remember how Justice Inglewood calls Die -Vernon his “heath-blossom,” when, pulling her towards him by the hand, -he says: “Another time let the law take its course—and, Die, my -beauty! let young fellows show each other the way through the moors”?’ - -‘All very well for Die Vernon, with a blood mare to ride, and a -cavalier like Frank Osbaldistone to gallop about with her. But think -of three lonely girls, with not even a wicked cousin, like Rashleigh, -to fight with, or a delightful, handsome, romantic one like Frank, to -fall in and out of love with! But now I think the Brontë experience -has gone far enough. Let us agree that the incident is closed. We make -an early start to-morrow.’ - -‘And so say all of us,’ chorused the rest of the party. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -The next departure was made successfully. From Yorkshire to Scotland -is no great distance, though the wanderers did not cross the moors to -Hawkstone Craig, but proceeded by the more modern route of Keighley -and Sheffield. - -Behold the pilgrims then, by the kind offices of the steam king, whose -miracles Sir Walter regarded with ‘half-proud, half-sad, half-angry, -and half-pleased feelings,’ landed within walking distance of -Abbotsford, and its haunting, magical memories of the Wizard of the -North. They gazed with awe, and almost adoration, at the towers and -turrets, pinnacles and mouldings of the famous abode of the more -famous owner and designer. It seemed to these ardent spirits not so -much a house, a family abode, as an enchanted Arabian Nights Palace, -compact of the flesh and blood, the brain and spiritual essence of him -whose pride and life-work it was. They were able to find suitable -lodging accommodation in the vicinity, whence they could sally forth -and live, so to speak, in that wondrous company of knights and nobles, -mediæval barons, Normans and Saxons, kings and queens, lovely -heroines, and all the _dramatis personæ_ of historical romance. They -therefore, without delay, conceived and carried out the project of -‘viewing fair Melrose aright.’ - -As it happened, the day had been doubtful, but towards evening the -wind dropped, and the night being cloudless, and resplendent with the -full radiance of the harvest moon, they had taken all proper -precaution to be deposited as nearly as possible at the exact spot -where the imagined spectator of ‘St. David’s ruined pile’ would have -located himself. - -It was a night superbly beautiful—mild, calm, free from all disturbing -influences, and permitting our pilgrims the fullest freedom to gaze on -a scene at once romantic and inspiring, free from all such -interruptions as might be expected in the light of day. - -‘I think I must ask for a vote in favour of the election of a -president, or chairman—if there was any place on which to sit,’ said -Mr. Banneret. ‘We cannot afford to spend the whole evening gazing at -these ruins, worthy as they are of our admiration.’ - -‘There is no one so fitted for the position, sir, as yourself,’ said -Falkland Aylmer, ‘and I beg to propose that you be elected by -acclamation to that honourable position.’ - -‘I suppose I can second the motion,’ said Hermione, ‘though I don’t -believe they have adult female suffrage in England yet; of course it’s -coming with other enlightened reforms.’ - -‘I believe Dad knows all the Walter Scott literature by heart,’ said -Vanda—‘stock, lock, and barrel, or rather, prose, poetry, and -miscellany. Those who are for—hold up the right hand. Against—none: -carried unanimously. Who will contribute the immortal invocation? -Behold the hour and the man!’ as Eric Banneret stepped forward, in -answer to a signal from his mother. - -That young man, who strongly resembled his mother in appearance and -leading characteristics, as sons are wont to do by the acknowledged -rules of heredity, responded with a look of assent to Mrs. Banneret’s -suggestive smile of approval, and, without further delay, began with -the opening lines:— - - ‘If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, - Go visit it by the pale moonlight; - For the gay beams of lightsome day - Gild, but to flout, the ruins grey. - When the broken arches are black in night, - And each shafted oriel glimmers white; - When the cold light’s uncertain shower - Streams on the ruin’d central tower; - When buttress and buttress, alternately, - Seem framed of ebon and ivory; - When silver edges the imagery, - And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die; - When distant Tweed is heard to rave, - And the owlet to hoot o’er the dead man’s grave, - Then go—but go alone the while— - Then view St. David’s ruin’d pile; - And, home returning, soothly swear, - Was never scene so sad and fair!’ - -‘Bravo, Eric!’ said Hermione. ‘I had no idea you had such poetical -leanings. Do they examine in modern verse and elocution at Cambridge? -I didn’t know they taught anything but Greek and Latin.’ - -‘Didn’t you?’ replied her brother. ‘Perhaps you would like to enter -next term?’ - -‘I shouldn’t mind,’ returned the young lady; ‘only it’s rather late in -life to begin. If I thought I’d pull off the classic tripos, as -Hypatia Tollemache did, it might be worth while. One girl did—an -Australian, too—a year or two back. I forget her name now. Oh, listen! -wasn’t that an owl? Let no one talk for five minutes, until “the -distant Tweed is heard to rave.” There it is; you can hear it quite -plainly now.’ - -The night was free from slightest breeze; no sound broke the air but -the weird, occasional cry of the night bird. - -‘I hear the Tweed,’ said Corisande suddenly, as the ripple of the -river over the shallows of the upper stream came faintly but -distinctly on the ear. ‘What a solemn rhythm it has! We shall never -forget this night, shall we? I feel drawn so much nearer to dear Sir -Walter, and to think that he should no sooner have built and planted -this lovely place, decorated, beautified it—loved it, and benefited -every one within his reach, than the great brain and the great heart -wore out.’ - -‘Which exhibits the vanity of human wishes,’ said Mr. Banneret -musingly. ‘His great aim was to found a family, and that his -children’s children should inhabit Abbotsford after him.’ - -‘A very worthy ambition, sir,’ said Reggie, ‘which I trust other heads -of families will bear in mind, and, not being poets and novelists, -will be wise in time, and neither over-build nor over-speculate until -they have provided for the rising generation.’ - -‘And how about being the “architects of their own fortunes,” as the -phrase goes? Is that honourable occupation to be taken away from -them—the men of the family, of course, I mean. Who is to found New -Englands and Greater Britains if every young man in the old country is -left comfortably off?’ - -‘There’s a good deal to be said on both sides, sir,’ said Reggie. -‘Personally, I should prefer to go forth, like the prince in the fairy -tale, to “seek my fortune.”’ - - * * * * * - -Melrose having ‘been viewed aright,’ studied, and discussed from every -possible point of view, the trend of public opinion set strongly -towards a visit to Abbotsford, as the central point of attraction. To -be personally conducted would, of course, be most desirable, the -family being absent in Switzerland. The housekeeper would, doubtless, -have instructions to permit such personages and pilgrims of -distinction to have, at any rate, a limited permission to view the -apartments with which they had been familiar by description, and in -which the interest of well-informed visitors chiefly centred. - -Here, again, fortune favoured them, and a delightful surprise was -sprung upon the leaders of the party. - -To their great joy Mrs. Banneret received a note from an Australian -compatriot (whom they had first met near the Pink and White Terraces -of Te Tarata, New Zealand), as fair, as graceful, as blue-eyed, as -truly compounded of the air and fire of the Scottish Highlands, as -ever was a Princess of Thule, though grown to woman’s estate ere ever -she saw the ancestral hills. - -She was now ‘a woman grown and wed,’ though still too fairylike and -youthful-seeming for the matronly estate. Her husband was away on his -usual summer excursion, which she was sure he would deeply regret, but -as their home was within a few miles of Abbotsford she would only be -too delighted to supply his place, as far as guide and chaperon duties -could be united. Fortunately for the interests of the pilgrimage she -had been prevented from accompanying him. - -‘We are being watched over by the _genius loci_, that is very -certain,’ said Reggie. ‘How it comes to pass that these delightful, -interesting personages seem to turn up at critical junctures, beats -me. May I ask if this Mrs. Maclean is above the average in point of -good looks?’ - -‘She is one of the sweetest, prettiest, most charming young women I -ever encountered,’ declared Mrs. Banneret. - -‘And Dad met her on board ship, I think I gathered?’ - -‘Yes, coming from New Zealand,’ volunteered Vanda; ‘but wait till you -see her. She has a look of “Sheila” and “A Daughter of Heth” -combined.’ - -‘H—m, ha! There seems a certain uniformity in the pleasant -acquaintances Dad meets with on his travels. They are rarely to be -described as plain, I observe. But as long as you don’t object, mater, -it’s not our business.’ - -‘Your father’s taste is correct in all respects, Master Reggie,’ -replied Mrs. Banneret, with an air of decision. ‘I hope we shall -always be able to say the same of your prepossessions.’ - -‘Hope and trust you will, mother dear! I suppose none of us boys will -have a chance with this ex-princess; she seems to have got such a -start.’ - -‘I saw her,’ said Hermione, ‘just before the Melbourne Cup. Corisande -and I are trembling in our shoes.’ - -The fair object of this discussion lost no time in commencing the -hospitable office which she had guaranteed to perform—making her -appearance, indeed, shortly after breakfast, and equipped for joining -the pedestrian party if such was desired. Needless to say, she was -enthusiastically received. After greeting Mr. and Mrs. Banneret with -true Highland cordiality, the needful introductions being completed, -Mrs. Maclean said: - -‘And so these are the young people I remember in Sydney, after we -landed from the _Hauroto_? How they have grown! The young gentlemen -were in England, but Hermione and Vanda I should have known anywhere. -You can’t think what a joy it is to me to meet you all here “on my -native heath,” so to speak—only I wasn’t born on it; and it nearly -broke my heart when we came away from the old station on the -Wondabyne, and I was sent to school in England. I used to cry and cry -for hours. At last I got so low-spirited that mother began to talk of -going back to Australia. There was one book that brought back the dear -old days, however. I used to read it over and over again when I felt -homesick and almost too miserable to live. It brought back the scent -of the gum leaf in the early morn, the gold glint of the -wattle-blossom in spring, and the rattle of hoofs when the horses were -brought in for the day. At last they took it away from me, as it was -thought it had a bad effect. You will guess what book it was!’ - -‘And of course it was _The Marstons_,’ said Vanda; ‘we all went wild -about it too. We have a Rainbow in the family now, and a very dear -horse he is. I think every boy and girl in the world, from “India to -the Pole,” has read it. However, we have read other books as well, and -now we are pledged to talk heather and rowan tree, and Yarrow and Gala -Water, and Leader Haughs, no end.’ - -‘And such being the case we must not lose time in talking, but make a -start,’ said their charming visitor. - -‘I know all about the “lay of the country,” as we used to say in -Australia, and am considered to be a competent cicerone. Where shall -we go first? I suppose you are all good walkers?’ - -‘Corisande can give us all points at that,’ said Hermione, ‘though she -seems to have lived in a flat country of late years; but no doubt her -ancestors, who came from Norway a thousand years ago, had different -experiences, and tripped up and down mountains like red deer.’ - -‘Nonsense, Hermie!’ said that young lady. ‘We did all our walking -exercise, as the grooms say, in good old Bruges, for a sufficient -reason—father’s cheque-book didn’t run to horses, or carriages either. -I daresay it was all the better for us then. But we know our Scott -fairly well: Mr. Banneret has been putting us through, till we know -the names of Sir Walter’s horses and dogs as well as his heroines and -heroes. Suppose we go to the top of “the range,” as Vanda says, where -he took Washington Irving?’ - -‘A very good idea,’ said Mrs. Banneret. ‘You remember he pointed out -Lammermoor and Smailholm, Gala Water and Torwoodlee, forbye (to be -very Scotch) Teviotdale and the Braes of Yarrow.’ - -‘Oh, delightful!’ cried Vanda. ‘We can fancy we see the Baron of -Smailholm and that poor, dear, undecided Lucy Ashton. How she could -have given up such a man as the Master of Ravenswood—dark, handsome, -mysteriously unhappy—I can’t think! However, girls have more liberty -nowadays, and mothers are not so despotic—not that this dear Mum will -ever interfere with our happiness.’ - -‘All depends upon the amount of sense the said daughters are credited -with,’ said her mother, with a meaning smile. ‘There _have_ been cases -where parental rule has prevented life-long misery. However, let us -hope that no such conflicts may arise among the members of this fair -company. And now that we have our dear Mrs. Maclean to guide our -steps, who, if she is not “to the manner born,” is much the same in -local knowledge, we must lose no more time than we can help.’ - -The ramble over the hills satisfied the most ardent pedestrians of the -party. The prospect was wide and majestic—the heather-bloom, of which -they availed themselves liberally, was pronounced to be equal to all -the praise bestowed upon it; the streams of Ettrick and Gala Water, -winding silverly through valley and meadow, before losing themselves -in Tweed’s fair river, worthy of all poetic praise. But, truth to -tell, they were disappointed with the absence of timber on the banks -of the world-famous river. The hills, too, were bare; and to eyes -accustomed to the primeval forests of giant eucalyptus which clothe -Australian mountain-sides, and overhang the river banks, there seemed -a want of adequate shelter. However, the whole surroundings were in -keeping with ‘Caledonia, stern and wild,’ and as the plantations -around Abbotsford, so lovingly tended by the Magician, whose art could -cause groves and fountains to appear and vanish at command, had grown -surprisingly since their establishment in 1812, it was decided finally -not to give utterance to a syllable of disparagement. The landscape -had sufficed for the home and happiness of the immortal possessor. On -this occasion a wide expanse of the Border country lay spread out -before them. They were thus enabled to verify the scenes of those -‘poems and romances which had bewitched the world.’ - -‘Kaeside,’ where ‘Willie Laidlaw,’ Sir Walter’s friend and amanuensis, -dwelt, was also visited. Traditionary legends tell of the curse of -chronic poverty, supposed to have been laid on the race by a malign -ancestress. The name was familiar to Arnold Banneret, who had known in -his youth a family of the same name in Australia. They were related to -the man of whom Sir Walter had so high an opinion, and whom he -honoured with his friendship. But the voyage across the wide Pacific, -or the influence of a new country, had apparently neutralised the -malediction, for the Australian Laidlaws, now a fairly numerous clan, -are in all cases held in respect, as well for their high character as -their large landed possessions. - -And thus, the weather being gracious, and all accessories befitting, -they rambled through and around the haunted regions, upon which, -though familiar with the _dramatis personæ_ from childhood’s hour, -they had never before set foot, or gazed with admiring eye. - -They did not depart without ocular experience of the Trossachs, or of - - Ancient Riddel’s fair domain, - Where Aill, from mountains freed, - Down from the lakes did raving come; - Each wave was crested with tawny foam, - Like the mane of a chestnut steed. - -They stood more than once on Turnagain on Tweedside, where - - Home and Douglas, in the van, - Bore down Buccleuch’s retiring clan, - Till gallant Cessford’s heart-blood dear - Reek’d on dark Elliot’s Border spear. - -Under the guidance of their accomplished compatriot, the Banneret -family with their visitors were conducted successfully through scenes -world-known and historical, which they had never dreamed of exploring. - -With such a chaperon they were received everywhere with the most -cordial hospitality—not only as dwellers in a far land, but as natives -of the dim and distant Australian waste (as their entertainers had -been contented to regard their country), and their hosts’ curiosity -was stimulated as keenly as it was pleasantly allayed by the refined -manners and cultured intelligence of the strangers. This familiarity -with Scottish scenery and character, albeit at second hand, surprised -as much as it gratified their entertainers. And indeed an offer was -made to Reggie, if he would consent to stand for a certain seat in the -Liberal interest, to ensure him a controlling vote, and in all -probability to return him for the locality specified. That rising -politician, in a neat speech, which showed that he had not been a -foremost member of the ‘Union’ for nothing, assured them that he felt -the compliment intensely, but would not, until he had completed his -_Wanderjahre_, be in a position to comply with their request. In the -meantime, let him assure them that he would never forget this mark of -their confidence. - -After this memorable incident the pilgrims were reminded by the -president that, although they felt so charmed with the scenery and -inhabitants of this delightful region, time was flying, and if they -desired to form a true estimate of Scotland and the Isles, hardly -less historically important, they must not linger, however entrancing -the locality. The logic was unanswerable, so, with many a sigh and -groan, even a few tears from Hermione and Vanda, they tore themselves -away. One more evening was, however, granted to Mrs. Maclean’s -entreaties, by whom it was suggested that it should be distinguished -as a Sir Walter Scott symposium, making it compulsory for each one of -the party to recite a favourite passage, either prose or poetry, from -the works of the Magician—a prize to be given for the best selection, -as also for the quality of elocution. This was assented to, and great -researches were instituted in the library, where, fortunately, there -were editions of all dates and sizes. The order of precedence was -decided by vote, and resulted in favour of Mr. Banneret, who, without -loss of time, began at the first canto of _Marmion_. - -‘I have always thought _Marmion_ to be in all respects the finest of -his, of any man’s, descriptive poems. The author commands the -attention and excites the admiration of readers of all ages, ranks, -and conditions, from the “dear school-boy, cheated of his holiday,” to -personages eminent in war or peace, patriots or peasants. Nothing in -the language rivals that of the battle of Flodden Field—the clash of -the sword-blades, the shock of the coursers. - - ‘Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, - Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, - Unbroken was the ring; - The stubborn spear-men still made good - Their dark impenetrable wood, - Each stepping where his comrade stood, - The instant that he fell. - -Where was ever such a picture of a battle in actual engagement? - - ‘Then marked they, dashing broad and far, - The broken billows of the war, - And plumed crests of chieftains brave, - Floating like foam upon the wave; - But nought distinct they see: - Wide raged the battle on the plain; - Spears shook, and falchions flashed amain; - Fell England’s arrow-flight like rain; - Crests rose, and stooped, and rose again, - Wild and disorderly. - Amid the scene of tumult, high - They saw Lord Marmion’s falcon fly: - And stainless Tunstall’s banner white, - And Edmund Howard’s lion bright, - Still bear them bravely in the fight: - Although against them come, - Of gallant Gordons many a one, - And many a stubborn Badenoch-man, - And many a rugged Border clan, - With Huntly, and with Home. - -Then the ghastly picture of the fallen knight, mortally wounded, - - ‘Dragged from among the horses’ feet, - With dinted shield, and helmet beat, - The falcon-crest and plumage gone, - Can that be haughty Marmion! - -‘Passing from the fire and dash of the battle-piece, we have the -warrior’s despairing appeal— - - ‘And half he murmured,—“Is there none, - Of all my halls have nursed, - Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring - Of blessed water from the spring, - To slake my dying thirst!” - -Here occurs the immortal tribute to the higher qualities of the sex, -nowhere seen to such advantage as in the dark hour of helpless -suffering:— - - ‘O, Woman! in our hours of ease, - Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, - And variable as the shade - By the light quivering aspen made; - When pain and anguish wring the brow, - A ministering angel thou! - -‘In “L’Envoy” Sir Walter’s boundless benevolence, after wishing all -desirable gifts to statesmen and heroes, and of course to - - ‘Lovely lady bright, - What can I wish but faithful knight? - -even includes that occasionally troublesome personage not often -honoured with poet’s notice— - - ‘To thee, dear school-boy, whom my lay - Has cheated of thy hour of play, - Light task, and merry holiday! - To all, to each, a fair good-night, - And pleasing dreams and slumbers light! - -‘I was a small school-boy,’ said Mr. Banneret, ‘when I knew by heart a -large portion of _Marmion_; and at not particularly protracted -intervals I seem to have been enjoying Sir Walter’s works, prose, -poetry, and even the records of his noble life, ever since. Marmion, -with the glamour of valour blinding the reader to his vices, is a -boy’s hero—brave, unscrupulous, successful, until - - ‘The Fiend, to whom belongs - The vengeance due to all her wrongs - -appears at life’s close with tragic and dramatic effect. And what in -all poetry is more thrilling, more absorbing, than the closing scene -of “injured Constance’s” wasted career; what more dignified than her -invocation; more terrible, more piteous than that dread indictment -which will ring throughout the ages, than the lingering death under -the conventual law of a merciless age?—the gloomy rock-hewn vault that -“was to the sounding surge so near” - - ‘You seem’d to hear a distant rill— - ’Twas ocean’s swells and falls; - A tempest there you scarce could hear - So massive were the walls. - - * * * * * - -‘Distant as is the period, fictitious the personages, dimly historical -the action, the magic of genius invests them with an actuality which -causes mental, almost physical pain to the sympathetic reader. Surely -the Muse can desire no more transcendent tribute.’ - -A chorus of congratulations followed the conclusion of Mr. Banneret’s -reminiscent adoration of his favourite author. His wife thought that a -passage from one of the novels would be a fitting diversion from -perhaps the too melancholy episode to which they had been listening. -_Rob Roy_ had been an early favourite. The character of Diana Vernon -had always represented to her mind the attributes of the noblest type -of womanhood—presenting high courage, passionate personal attachment, -combined with deep devotion to parental duty, never suffered to be in -abeyance for a moment. - -‘The highest personal courage combined with the loftiest sense of -self-sacrifice was hers, the whole illumined in befitting time and -place with gleams of humour and sportive playfulness, betokening how, -under happier circumstances, she could adapt herself to the joyous -_abandon_ of the hour. With all a man’s courage and steadfastness in -the hour of danger, she exhibited the fascination of her sex -undiminished, indeed heightened by the daily dangers amid which she -trod so warily and securely. Then she rode so well. I think she is one -among the few heroines that Sir Walter exhibits to his readers on -horseback. The ill-fated Clara Mowbray, poor girl! rode recklessly; -but she was half-crazed through treachery and evil fortune.’ - -‘How about Rebecca of York?’ said Reggie Banneret. ‘She rode to -Ashby-de-la-Zouche with her father, on a memorable occasion, though -when carried off and lodged in Front de Bœuf’s castle, together with -the wounded Ivanhoe, she seems to have been travelling in a litter.’ - -‘I always place Rebecca in the front rank of Sir Walter’s heroines,’ -said Corisande. ‘Her beauty, her charity, even to the men of the race -that ill-used, despised, and plundered her nation, should gain her a -prize at any show of fair women in or out of Novel Land. But except -when she was carried off, and mounted before one of Brian de -Bois-Guilbert’s Eastern mutes, after the siege of Torquilstone Castle, -she hadn’t much chance of displaying her accomplishments in that line. -She was a dear creature, and any one who can read the ending of the -chapter, where she is sentenced to the stake, and Wilfred comes to the -rescue, hardly able to sit on his horse, and that wicked, fascinating -Templar dies of heart failure at the right time, without feeling the -tears in their eyes, has no sense, no feeling, no brains, and no -heart—that’s my opinion.’ - -‘What a gallery of beauties Sir Walter’s heroines would furnish!’ said -Eric. ‘Indeed, I do remember seeing one in school-boy days, but I am -afraid they were guilty of ringlets, and so would be voted -unfashionable by the latter-day Johnnies—Edith Bellenden, Flora -MacIvor, Rose Bradwardine, Julia Mannering, Amy Robsart, and a host of -others—among them one Vanda! but I have less pity for any of their -woes and misfortunes than for those of Clara Mowbray in _St. Ronan’s -Well_. Nothing finer in romantic tragedy can be found than her meeting -with Francis Tyrrel on the road to Shaw’s Castle. - - ‘“‘And what good purpose can your remaining here serve?’ [she - said]. ‘Surely you need not come either to renew your own - unhappiness or to augment mine?’ - - ‘“‘To augment yours—God forbid!’ answered Tyrrel. ‘No; I came - hither only because, after so many years of wandering, I longed to - revisit the spot where all my hopes lay buried.’ - - ‘“‘Ay, buried is the word,’ she replied—‘crushed down and buried - when they budded fairest. I often think of it, Tyrrel; and there - are times when, Heaven help me! I can think of little else. Look - at me; you remember what I was—see what grief and solitude have - made me.’ - - ‘“She flung back the veil which surrounded her riding-hat, and - which had hitherto hid her face. It was the same countenance which - he had formerly known in all the bloom of early beauty; but though - the beauty remained, the bloom was fled for ever. Not the - agitation of exercise—not that which arose from the pain and - confusion of this unexpected interview, had called to poor Clara’s - cheek even the semblance of colour. Her complexion was - marble-white, like that of the finest piece of statuary. - - ‘“‘Is it possible?’ said Tyrrel; ‘can grief have made such - ravages?’ - - ‘“‘Grief,’ replied Clara, ‘is the sickness of the mind, and its - sister is the sickness of the body; they are twin-sisters, Tyrrel, - and are seldom long separate. Sometimes the body’s disease comes - first, and dims our eyes and palsies our hands before the fire of - our mind and of our intellect is quenched. But mark me—soon after - comes her cruel sister with her urn, and sprinkles cold dew on our - hopes and loves, our memory, our recollections, and our feelings, - and shows us that they cannot survive the decay of our bodily - powers.’ - - ‘“‘Alas!’ said Tyrrel, ‘is it come to this?’ - - ‘“‘To this,’ she replied, speaking from the rapid and irregular - train of her own ideas, rather than comprehending the purport of - his sorrowful exclamation—‘it must ever come, while immortal souls - are wedded to the perishable substance of which our bodies are - composed. There is another state, Tyrrel, in which it will be - otherwise; God grant our time of enjoying it were come!’” - -‘I cannot imagine anything more exquisite,’ said Mrs. Banneret, ‘than -the portraiture of the ill-fated lovers, whose lives the arts of an -unscrupulous villain had ruined, almost at their entrance into the -paradise of wedded love. But the characters depicted throughout the -novel are masterpieces of humour and descriptive accuracy. Lord -Etherington, the fashionable, dissipated nobleman of the period, might -have issued from a London Club. Touchwood, egotistical, kind-hearted, -interfering, is the nabob, common enough in old-fashioned fiction. -Lady Binks, John Mowbray, Sir Bingo, the choleric Highland half-pay -Captain MacTurk, Winterblossom, the dilettante art critic, and the man -of law, are exactly the denizens of a fourth-rate Spa; not to mention -Meg Dods, the very flower and crown of Scottish provincial landladies. -Then the dramatic incidents of the climax: Clara fleeing through storm -and snow, from her brother’s house in the night, to escape the forced -and hateful marriage; the duel; the late appearance of Touchwood on -the scene.’ - - ‘“He was stopped by Touchwood, who had just alighted from a - carriage, with an air of stern anxiety on his features very - different from their usual expression. ‘Whither would - ye?’—stopping him by force. - - ‘“‘For revenge—for revenge!’ said Tyrrel. ‘Give way, I charge you, - on your peril!’ - - ‘“‘Vengeance belongs to God,’ replied the old man, ‘and His bolt - has fallen. This way—this way,’ he continued, dragging Tyrrel - into the house. ‘Know,’ he said, ‘that Mowbray of St. Ronan’s has - met Bulmer within this half-hour, and killed him on the spot.’ - - ‘“‘Killed!—whom?’ answered the bewildered Tyrrel. - - ‘“‘Valentine Bulmer, the titular Earl of Etherington.’ - - ‘“‘You bring tidings of death to the house of death,’ answered - Tyrrel; ‘and there is nothing in this world left that I should - live for!’”’ - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -‘No one can have a higher admiration for dear Sir Walter than I have,’ -said Vanda, ‘and I agree with Eric that this is one of the most -pathetic scenes in the whole series of the novels. I have wept over -Clara Mowbray myself, “full many a time and oft,” as people used to -say. Still, how many in number _are_ the Waverley Novels?’ - -‘I know,’ answered Hermione, ‘for I counted them last week. There are -twenty-five, besides the poetical works. What a miracle of industry he -was! A genuinely hospitable country gentleman—in earlier life a -hard-working Clerk of Session, or whatever it was; while in his -leisure hours he dashed off such trifles as _Waverley_, _Ivanhoe_, -_Marmion_, _The Lady of the Lake_, and the rest. So if we set to work -to discuss all the heroines in all the novels, with the pathetic and -tragic incidents of their lives, it will take us years to “do” -Scotland, and we shall never get back to England at all.’ - -Every one laughed at this summary of the situation. Mrs. Banneret -thought Hermione’s view correct in the main. ‘Suppose,’ she continued, -‘that we coax our dear Mrs. Maclean to join us in a farewell ramble, -and devote the evening to a final discussion of Sir Walter’s works, -each pilgrim to produce a favourite passage, scene, ballad, or -incident. To-morrow a start to be made south, and _no deviation_ -allowed on any pretence whatever.’ - -‘Hear! hear!’ cried Reggie and Corisande; while the others voted ‘Ay’ -unanimously, and Mr. Banneret, with an affectation of despair, -expressed himself as powerless to resist his fate. - -The supper was a joyous meal, in spite of forebodings of what the -morrow might bring, and the parting of those whom ironic fate might -never permit to reassemble in the same pleasant _camaraderie_. - -There was great hunting up of old editions and copyings of passages, -stimulated by the promise of prizes to be given for the rendering of -the happiest selections in prose and poetry. Mrs. Maclean left early -in the evening, but promised to spend the whole following day with the -pilgrims, and to furnish her quota to the competition. The programme -for the next day’s march was then completed with her aid and advice, -and amid sincere regrets that this should be almost the last time they -should meet in Britain, the symposium came to an end; the ladies of -the party, after Mrs. Maclean’s carriage had been driven off, -declaring that they had little enough time to pack and arrange for -departure. - -‘This is a “day to be marked with a white stone,”’ said Corisande, -after the travellers had come back in the late afternoon, reasonably -tired, but in high spirits, and overflowing with gratitude to -Mrs. Maclean, whose local knowledge and unfailing desire to explain -all things difficult to the southern comprehension, rendered her -companionship inestimable. - -Supper was a meal for the gods, abounding as it did with sportive -criticism of the _personnel_ and adventures of the day. Of the -Highland shepherd, who ‘had no English,’ and could not therefore -inform two of the party, half-way up a mountain, where he had seen the -main body of the pilgrims, though obviously desirous of making the -important statement, until Mrs. Maclean, arriving, put an end to the -difficulty by half-a-dozen words in Gaelic, to Hermione’s surprise and -admiration; of the collie dogs, who understood only Lowland Scotch, -and resented being told to ‘come behind,’ or ‘fetch ’em back,’ in -plain English, or even unadulterated Australian. - -The next day passed dreamily, all things wearing a subdued, if not sad -expression, as of farewells in the air, sighs also and regrets, doubts -as to meeting again, the uncertainties of life, ironies of fate, and -so on. - -Supper being over, Mrs. Banneret, foreseeing that the frolicsome -chatter of the young folks would not lead to anything practical, -called upon Reggie to make a commencement. That young gentleman, who -was methodical of habit, had taken the trouble to look through the -library, and being thus prepared, had chosen the description of the -‘Abbotsford Hunt,’ as, though neither poetical nor romantic, -delightfully descriptive of the hospitable, humorous, sport-loving -side of Sir Walter’s character. - - ‘About the middle of August’ (writes his son-in-law, Lockhart, in - 1820), ‘my wife and I went to Abbotsford. We remained there for - several weeks, during which time I became familiarised with Sir - Walter Scott’s mode of existence in the country. It was necessary - to observe it, day after day, for a considerable period, before - one could believe that such was, during nearly half the year, the - routine of life with the most productive author of his age. The - humblest person who stayed merely for a short visit must have - departed with the impression that what he witnessed was an - occasional variety; that Scott’s courtesy prompted him to break in - upon his habits when he had a stranger to amuse; but that it was - physically impossible that the man who was writing the Waverley - romances at the rate of nearly _twelve volumes_ in the year, could - continue, week after week, and month after month, to devote all - but a hardly perceptible fraction of his mornings to out-of-doors - occupations, and the whole of his evenings to the entertainment of - a constantly varying circle of guests. - - ‘The hospitality of his afternoons must alone have been enough to - exhaust the energies of almost any man; for his visitors did not - mean, like those of country houses in general, to enjoy the - landlord’s good cheer and amuse each other; the far greater - proportion arrived from a distance, for the sole sake of the Poet - and Novelist _himself_, whose person they had never before seen, - and whose voice they might never again have any opportunity of - hearing. No other villa in Europe was ever resorted to from the - same motives, and to anything like the same extent, except Ferney; - and Voltaire never dreamt of being visible to his _hunters_, as he - called them, except for a brief space of the day. Few of them even - dined with him, and none of them seem to have slept under his - roof. Scott’s establishment, on the contrary, resembled in every - particular that of the affluent idler, who, because he has - inherited, or would fain transmit, political influence, keeps open - house, receives as many as he has room for, and sees their - apartments occupied, as soon as they vacate them, by another troop - of the same description. - - * * * * * - - ‘But with few exceptions Scott was the sole object of the - Abbotsford pilgrims; and evening followed evening only to show him - exerting for their amusement more of animal spirits, to say - nothing of intellectual vigour, than would have been considered by - any other man in the company as sufficient for the whole - expenditure of a week’s existence. Yet this was not the chief - marvel: he talked of things that interested himself, because he - knew that by doing so he should give most pleasure to his guests. - It is needless to add that Sir Walter was familiarly known, long - before these days, to almost all the nobility and higher gentry of - Scotland; and consequently there seldom wanted a fair proportion - of them to assist him in doing the honours of his country. It is - still more superfluous to say so respecting the heads of his own - profession in Edinburgh; Abbotsford was their villa, whenever they - pleased to resort to it, and few of them were absent from it long. - - ‘As to the composition of the guests. Some were near relations - who, except when they visited him, rarely, if ever, found - admittance to what the dialect of the upper world is pleased to - designate as “society.” These were welcome guests, let who might - be under that roof. It was the same with many a worthy citizen of - Edinburgh, habitually moving in the obscurest of circles, who had - been in the same class as Scott at the High School. To dwell on - nothing else, it was surely the perfection of real universal - humanity and politeness that could enable this great and good man - to blend guests so multifarious in one group, and contrive to make - all equally happy with him, with themselves, and with each - another. - - ‘It was a clear, bright September morning, and all was in - readiness for a grand coursing match on Newark Hill. Sir Walter, - mounted on Sibyl Grey, was marshalling the order of the procession - with a huge hunting-whip, and among a dozen frolicsome youths and - maidens appeared on horseback, eager as the youngest sportsman in - the troop, Sir Humphry Davy, Dr. Wollaston, and the patriarch of - Scottish _belles lettres_, Henry Mackenzie. The Man of Feeling, - however, was persuaded to resign his steed, and to join Lady Scott - in the sociable, until the ground of the battue was reached. - Laidlaw, on a longtailed, wiry Highlander, yclept Hoddin Grey, - which carried him nimbly and stoutly, though his feet almost - touched the ground, was the adjutant. - - ‘But the most picturesque figure was the illustrious inventor of - the safety lamp. He had come for his favourite sport of angling, - but had not prepared for coursing fields, and his fisherman’s - costume—a brown hat with flexible brims, surrounded with line upon - line, and innumerable fly-hooks, jack-boots worthy of a Dutch - smuggler, and a fustian coat dabbled with the blood of salmon—made - a fine contrast with the smart jackets, white cord breeches, and - well-polished jockey boots of the less distinguished cavaliers - about him. Dr. Wollaston was in black, and with his noble, serene - dignity of countenance might have passed for a sporting - archbishop. Mr. Mackenzie, at this time in the seventy-sixth year - of his age, with a white hat turned up with green, green - spectacles, and long brown leather gaiters, wore a dog-whistle - round his neck, and had all over the air of as resolute a devotee - as the gay captain of Huntly Burn. Tom Purdie had preceded us by a - few hours, with all the greyhounds that could be collected at - Abbotsford, Darnick, and Melrose; but the giant Maida had remained - as his master’s orderly, and now gambolled about Sibyl Grey, - barking for mere joy like a spaniel puppy. - - ‘On reaching Newark Castle we found Lady Scott, her eldest - daughter, and the venerable Mackenzie, all busily engaged in - unpacking a basket, and arranging a luncheon it contained, in the - mossy rocks overhanging the bed of the Yarrow. When such of the - company as chose had partaken of the refection, the Man of Feeling - resumed his pony and all ascended, duly marshalled in proper - distances, so as to beat in a broad line over the heather, Sir - Walter directing the movement from the right across towards - Blackandro. Davy laid his whip about the fern like an experienced - hand, and surveying the long, eager battalion of “bushrangers” - [_sic_], exclaimed, “Good Heavens! is it thus that I visit the - scenery of the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_?” He kept muttering to - himself, as his glowing eye ran over the landscape, some of those - beautiful lines from the conclusion of the _Lay_:— - - But still, - When summer smiled on sweet Bowhill, - And July’s eve, with balmy breath, - Waved the blue-bells on Newark heath; - When throstles sung in Harehead-shaw, - And corn was green on Carterhaugh, - And flourished, broad, Blackandro’s oak, - The aged Harper’s soul awoke! - - Mackenzie, spectacled as he was, saw the first sitting hare, gave - the word to slip the greyhounds, and spurred after them like a - boy. - - ‘Coursing on such a mountain is not like the same sport over a bit - of fine English pasture. - - * * * * * - - ‘Many a bold rider measured his length among the peat-bogs, and - another stranger to the ground besides Davy plunged neck-deep into - a treacherous well-head, which, till they were floundering in it, - had borne all the appearance of a piece of delicate green turf. - When Sir Humphry emerged from his involuntary bath, garnished with - mud, slime, and mangled water-cresses, Sir Walter received him - with a triumphant encore. But the philosopher had his revenge, for - Scott put Sibyl Grey at a leap beyond her powers and lay humbled - in the ditch, while Davy who was better mounted cleared it and him - at a bound. Happily there was little damage done, but no one was - sorry that the sociable had been detained at the foot of the hill. - - ‘I have seen Sir Humphry on other occasions, and in company of - many different descriptions, but never to such advantage as at - Abbotsford. His host and he delighted in each other, and the - modesty of their mutual admiration was a memorable spectacle. Davy - was by nature a poet, and Scott, though anything but a - philosopher, might have pursued the study of physical science with - success, had he happened to fall in with Sir Humphry in early - life. Each strove to make the other talk, and they did so in turn - most charmingly. Scott in his romantic narratives touched a deeper - chord of feeling than usual when he had such a listener as Davy; - and Davy, when induced to open his views upon any question of - scientific interest in Scott’s presence, did so with a clear, - energetic eloquence and a flow of imagery and illustration of - which neither his habitual tone of table-talk nor any of his prose - writings (except, indeed, the _Consolations in Travel_) could - suggest an adequate notion. - - ‘One night, when their “rapt talk” had kept the circle round the - fire long after the usual bedtime at Abbotsford, I remember - Laidlaw whispering to me, “Gude preserve us! this is a very - superior occasion! Eh, sirs!” he added, cocking his eye like a - bird, “I wonder if Shakespeare and Bacon ever met to screw ilk - other up?” - - ‘The other “superior occasion” came later in the season: the 28th - of October, the birthday of Sir Walter’s eldest son, was that - usually selected for the Abbotsford Hunt. This was a coursing - match on a large scale, including as many of the younger gentry as - pleased to attend, as well as all Scott’s personal favourites - among the yeomen and farmers of the surrounding country. The - Sheriff nearly always took the field, but latterly devolved the - command upon his good friend Mr. John Usher, the ex-laird of - Toftfield. The hunt took place on the moors above Cauld-Shiels - Loch, or over some of the hills on the estate of Gala, and we had - commonly, ere we returned, hares enough to supply the wife of - every farmer that attended, with soup for a week following. The - whole party then dined at Abbotsford: the Sheriff in the chair; - Adam Fergusson, croupier; and Dominie Thomson, of course, - chaplain. The company whose onset had been thus deferred, were - seldom under thirty and sometimes exceeded forty. The feast suited - the occasion. A baron of beef, roasted, at the foot of the table, - a salted round at the head, while tureens of hare soup, - hotch-potch, and cock-a-leekie extended down the centre, with such - light articles as geese, turkeys, sucking pigs, singed sheep’s - head, and the unfailing haggis, set forth by way of side dishes. - Black cock and moorfowl, bushels of snipe, black puddings, white - puddings, and pyramids of pancakes, formed the second course. Ale - was the favourite beverage during dinner, but there was plenty of - port and sherry for those who preferred wine. The quaighs of - Glenlivet were filled to the brim, and tossed off as if they held - water. The wine decanters made a few rounds of the table, but the - hints for hot punch and toddy soon became clamorous. Two or three - bowls were introduced; then the business of the evening commenced - in good earnest. The faces shone and glowed like those at - Camacho’s wedding; the chairman told the richest stones of old - rural life; the stalwart Dandie Dinmonts lugged out their last - winter’s snowstorm, the parish scandal, perhaps, or the dexterous - bargain of the Northumberland Tryst; Sheriff-substitute Shortreed - gave us “Now Liddesdale has ridden a raid.” His son, Sir Walter’s - most assiduous disciple and assistant in Border Heraldry and - genealogy, shone without a rival in “Twa Corbies.” Captain - Ormistoun gave the primitive pastoral of “Cowdenknowes” in sweet - perfection; other ballads succeeded, until the gallant croupier - crowned the last bowl with “Ale, good ale; thou art my darling!” - Imagine some smart Parisian _savant_, some dreamy pedant of Halle - or Heidelberg, a brace of stray young lords from Oxford or - Cambridge, with perhaps their college tutors, planted here and - there among these rustic wassailers, this being their first vision - of the author of _Marmion_ and _Ivanhoe_, and he appearing as much - at home in the scene as if he had been a veritable “Dandie” - himself, his face radiant, his laugh gay as childhood, his chorus - always ready. And so it proceeded until some worthy, who had - fifteen or twenty miles to ride home, began to insinuate that his - wife would be getting anxious about the fords, and the Dumples and - Hoddins were at last heard neighing at the gate. It was voted that - the hour had come for “Doch an dorrach,” the stirrup-cup—to wit, a - bumper all round of the unmitigated mountain dew. How they all - contrived to get home in safety Heaven only knows, but I never - heard of any serious accident. One comely gude-wife amused Sir - Walter, far off among the hills, the next time he passed her - homestead, by repeating her husband’s first words when he alighted - at his own door: “Ailie, my woman, I’m ready for my bed—and, oh! - lass, I wish I could sleep for a towmont, for there’s only ae - thing in this warld worth living for, and that’s the Abbotsford - Hunt.”’ - -There was a considerable amount of laudatory remark when the reading -of the ‘Abbotsford Hunt’ was concluded. - -‘What a charming, delightful creature Sir Walter must have been!’ said -Hermione. ‘What a pity he should ever have been hampered by debt and -business worries. Such a model country gentleman, and, oh! as a -companion, what an honour to have known him; to have watched his eye -brighten and glow as some deed of valour or generous action came -before him! Then his tenderness to children. Think of “Pet Marjorie”! -Vanda and I cried our eyes out at her death. And to know of her dying -of measles, like any other child—with her wonderful intellect! It -seems as if Providence should have intervened.’ - -‘We must get on with our work, my dear children,’ said Mrs. Banneret -warningly. ‘Our time is short. We are all with you, I am sure! Vanda, -haven’t you any pathetic fragment? I saw you reading _A Legend of -Montrose_ yesterday.’ - -‘I think that novel contains some of Sir Walter’s best examples of -comic humour as well as of his deepest pathos. Captain Dalgetty on the -one hand, with his memories of the immortal Gustavus and Marischal -College, and, oh! while they are escaping from Inveraray Castle, the -old Highlander, Ranald MacEagh, seeing his sons hanging on the gibbet, -makes “a gesture of unutterable anguish.” Nothing is finer, stronger, -more deeply tragical in the whole series of the writer’s prose and -poetry.’ - -‘My husband will always regret,’ said Mrs. Maclean, ‘that he was away -when you visited our sacred shrine. He is a devoted worshipper; -nothing would have given him greater pleasure than to have gone round -all the haunts and homes of the Bard. He would have been so pleased to -know that in my country—_my_ country,’ she repeated with a charming -air of defiance, ‘the seer of Abbotsford is as fully appreciated, and -perhaps even more widely venerated than in the land of his birth.’ - -‘I can confirm that statement,’ said Mr. Banneret, ‘for wherever you -go in Australia and New Zealand, the Scots, “lowland or highland, far -or near,” appear to predominate. And in energy, industry, and -material success they invariably excel the Saxon and the Irish Celt.’ - -‘To be sure, whateffer—I wass telling you so,’ said Mrs. Maclean, with -a pretty reproduction of the Highland accent of “Sheila,” ‘but you -must not be too appreciative of the Australian Highlander, or you will -make me conceited. Who is to follow on? It is your turn, I am sure, -Mr. Eric.’ - -‘I thought I was to be let off,’ pleaded that young gentleman; ‘but -how about a trifle of poetry as a change?’ - -‘I vote for “Bonnie Dundee,”’ said Corisande. ‘There is such a “lilt” -about it, and it is above all such a record of dear Sir Walter’s -undying pluck and energy, as he wrote it with the expectation of ruin, -soon to be converted into certainty, hanging over his head. You see he -writes on the 22nd December—December of all months in the year! in -Scotland, too!—“The air of ‘Bonnie Dundee’ running in my head to-day, -I wrote a few verses to it before dinner. I wonder if they are good. -Ah, poor Will Erskine, thou couldst and would have told me.” Fancy -writing a noble ballad like that when he was in a sense “expecting the -bailiffs.” How few men in his circumstances could have done it—fewer -still could have produced work with the lifelike spirit of the great -ballad, the clash of the kettle—drums, and the pathetic ending— - - ‘Till on Ravelston’s cliffs and on Clermiston’s lea - Died away the wild war-notes of Bonny Dundee. - -‘“On December 25 arrived here, Abbotsford, last night, at seven. Our -halls are silent now, compared to last year, but let us be thankful. -But come; let us see. I shall write out ‘The Bonnets of Bonnie -Dundee,’ sketch a preface to La Roche—Jacquelin, for _Constable’s -Miscellany_—and try sketch notes for the Waverley Novels. Together -with letters and by-business it will be a good day’s work.” One would -think so indeed.’ - -Eric Banneret had a fresh voice with a fairly good ear, and his -unaffected, hearty way of trolling out his favourite ditties, -sea-songs, camp ‘chanties,’ and such, was effective. When he came to— - - ‘Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, - Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; - Come open the West Port, and let me gang free, - And it’s room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee!’ - -the chorus included the full strength of the orchestra, and was -enthusiastically supported. It was an undoubted success, and -established Eric as an amateur of promise, who might have gone far, -with the aid of scientific culture in early youth. - -‘That is what his father took special care he should never obtain,’ -said Mrs. Banneret, with an arch look. ‘My husband has a fixed idea -that a young man with an exceptional voice and a taste for music -always comes to grief in Australia. Society, temptation, and flattery -mostly accomplish his downfall. There are exceptions probably, but I -have known, in my experience, strangely few.’ - -Here there were strong protests against the illogical position. ‘Why -should proficiency in the gentle and joyous science,’ it was asked, -‘incapacitate a man for the practical duties of life?’ - -‘It ought not to do so,’ conceded paterfamilias, ‘but that it does I -have observed in scores of instances, while the exceptions may be -counted on the fingers of one hand. The possession of a fine voice, -with skill in instrumental music, has a tendency to develop the -romantic, emotional side of character, as also to weaken the practical -qualities necessary for success in life. I don’t speak as to other -nations, but for British-born people and Australians it is a gift that -spells ruin.’ - -‘It is of no use arguing with my husband on that point,’ said -Mrs. Banneret, ‘and I must confess that I have seen his theory -strongly supported by facts; but, to vary the entertainment, suppose -we persuade Mrs. Maclean to give us “Rothesay Bay.” It is a sweet, -plaintive ballad, and she will make the third Australian-born lady of -Scottish extraction that I have heard sing it. They all had the very -slightest tinge of the Highland accent, which, of course, made it all -the more fascinating.’ - - * * * * * - -All forebodings were justified by the next morning’s post. It brought -a letter from Australia, which contained such important news that all -arrangements for the present were altered. The expedition, indeed, was -brought to an abrupt and untimely end. The letter was from Pilot -Mount, Kalgoorlie, West Australia, and had followed, as directed by -Mr. Banneret, the movements of the party. The news was important. It -came from the Metallurgist of the mine, who by virtue of his office -was the Acting Manager, and announced the death of Mr. John Waters, -popularly known as old Jack. There had been some difference of opinion -lately (the writer said) between him and other officials concerning -the working of the mine. Matters were not perfectly satisfactory, in -his opinion. There had been an argument about wages, and a demand by -the men for a rise. A ‘strike’ had been mentioned, but that was -arranged for the present. Old Mr. John Waters had retired on the -preceding night, apparently in his usual health, which was excellent, -but had been found dead in his bed on the following morning. An -inquest had been held before the Coroner of the district, and the -medical evidence pronounced the case to be one of heart disease. In -accordance with which a verdict of ‘death from natural causes’ was -returned. He forwarded copies of the local papers, which contained -full accounts of the proceedings. - -It was his opinion, and also that of the principal officials and -shareholders of the mine, that either Mr. Banneret in person, or some -one fully empowered to act on his behalf, should visit the mine -without delay. In the meantime, the working of the property and all -other matters would go on as usual. He remained, faithfully yours, -Malcolm MacDonald. - - * * * * * - -Thus recalled abruptly from the realm of romance, of fiction and song, -Arnold Banneret felt, as had happened to himself many times in his -adventurous life, the need of prompt decision and vigorous action. -‘Poor old Jack!’ He was sorry for the veteran whose closing years -apparently of comfort, even luxury, had been cut short by the stroke -of fate. Perhaps it was a merciful dispensation. He himself, without -doubt, would have so considered it. Fearless, even reckless, as miners -are in the pursuit of their dangerous and at all times laborious -calling, he had often spoken with dread of a lingering illness, of the -pain and tedium of a wasting disorder, not seldom declaring that a -sudden, a swift seizure would be his choice if granted one. Now he had -his desire. His life, as all men knew, had been free from notorious -evil-doing, and if occasional lapses from sobriety—the almost -inevitable reaction of the uneducated labourer against monotonous toil -and severe privation—had occurred, what wonder? These deviations from -the strict line of duty had, however, been more rare in latter years, -and, since the departure of the Banneret family for England, had -almost ceased. Now the veteran who had toiled in so many lands, in so -varied a range of climate, from the snows of Hokitiki to the torrid -wastes of the Golden Belt, where camels and turbaned Afghan drivers -now stood around his grave, had found his rest. Uneducated, untaught, -unversed in the lore of civilisation, ancient or modern, his simple -creed had been to ‘go straight,’ as he would have expressed it, to -stand by a ‘mate’ to the death, to owe no man a shilling when his -mining ventures paid, and to work for more when they failed. Hardy, -strong, enduring, resourceful, he was a true type of those Britons who -have carried Old England’s flag victoriously over so many seas and -lands, and whether in peace or war earned the respect of friend and -foe. - -Regrets of varying depth of sadness were expressed by all the members -of the pilgrim band. Due acknowledgments were made to Mrs. Maclean, -with assurances that her cordial hospitality and invaluable guidance -would never be forgotten. But the route was given, the camp broken up, -and by an early train on the following morning the whole party set out -for Hexham Hall, where by ordinary course of transit they arrived with -but little delay. - -Although a sense of disappointment at the unexpected and, so to speak, -untoward conclusion of their pleasant rambles had communicated a -serious expression to the countenances of the younger members of the -party, it was explained by their leader that there was no cause for -depression, or more than natural regret at the occurrence. Poor old -Jack Waters had fallen in the ranks of that great Battle of Life which -was each day, though unheard, unseen, in ceaseless conflict around -them all. He had died in the performance of his duty, full of years, -and honoured of all men. No doubt he would be borne to his grave with -all befitting ceremony, and followed by a great concourse of miners -and fellow-citizens. For the rest, as from the commencement of the -partnership which had terminated so fortunately for the Banneret -family, he had freely acknowledged his indebtedness to ‘the -Commissioner’—as he could not get out of the habit of designating -Mr. Banneret, and also to Mrs. Banneret, whom he loyally reverenced. -By his will, made at the time, and which had never been altered, the -moiety of the great mine reverted to Mr. Banneret, as also the large -savings from income which he had enjoyed for many years. This was only -decreased by donations to churches, charities, and benevolent -associations on the Field, to which he had been in the habit of -subscribing liberally, indeed lavishly, for years past. And the great -concourse of his fellow-miners who followed their old comrade to the -cemetery was considerably augmented by the recipients of private -benefactions, known only to themselves and a few old friends. - - * * * * * - -Hexham again! The old house, the aged oaks and elms, the shadowy -woodlands; the peerless turf, in its velvet brilliancy and smoothness, -so different from much of the Border country sward in which, with all -its irregularity, they had so lately revelled. However, ‘Home is home, -be it ever so “splendid,”’ if a variation be permitted from the -original version, and the Bannerets, though taking kindly to their -improved circumstances and more or less aristocratic surroundings, -were not likely to sacrifice family comfort to any presumed mandate of -fashion. Thus the young people were left free, even enjoined to amuse -themselves in their own way, with rides and drives, and short -excursions among the more intimate of their neighbours, until the -decision of the family council was declared. This High Court and -Council of the Elders consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Banneret, with the -sole addition of Reginald of that Ilk, as the eldest son and -heir-apparent. It was duly constituted therefore on the day after -arrival, and a first sitting was held after breakfast, while the young -ladies and their attendant cavaliers strolled round the gardens, -visited the stables, and afterwards attended to their correspondence -until lunch time. - -Mr. Banneret having visited his office, produced a collection of -business papers, including one from poor old Jack Waters, of -strange-appearing caligraphy, but intelligible and clear in meaning as -the writer’s own speech. ‘You see, he says here (in a letter to me, -dated shortly before the end) that he doesn’t feel so well as usual; -has, indeed, a sort of giddy feeling that he doesn’t fancy. The doctor -tells him that his heart is affected, and that he must be -careful—might drop any time— - - ‘Not a bad thing either! (he goes on to say—poor old chap!). Hope - the Lord will take me that way when my time’s up. I don’t want no - hospital business; a short call and a-done with it. That’s my - notion. I don’t call myself an extra religious cove, but I’ve - wronged no man—not wilful, that is—and, barrin’ an extra glass or - two, I’ve no call to think that God Almighty’ll be hard on a poor - old chap that’s had no book larnin’ and tried to do the fair thing - between man and man as far as he know’d how. My respects to the - family, and to Mrs. Banneret above all. She helped me more than - once, or twice either, when I was low down. It’s my wish, though - I’m not going to alter my will, that she shall have a trifle, - separate and privit for herself, say ten thousand pound—and the - young gentlemen and young ladies, five thousand a-piece to - remember pore old Jack by. - - ‘You’ll find the accounts right. I’ve had ’em ordited reg’lar by a - gentleman as we both know and trust. It’s the best way. I will now - say good-bye, sir! Life’s uncertain. God bless you and yours, as - has allwaies been good to me, rich or poor; and I’m glad the - mine’s turned out a blessin’ to all concerned, as I sed it - would.—I remaine, Yours true & faithful, - John Waters.’ - - ‘One thing I forgot to menshun. There’s Docter Barnarder’s Home - for pore little boys and gals. It’s been in my mind a goodish - while. It’s about the best thing in that line as I ever herd tell - of. I hadn’t much more chance than them children. I was turned out - to get my livin’ preshus early—only it was in the country, not the - town, lucky for me, where I growed up strong and hardy, thank the - Lord! I want that docter to have a thousand down and a hundred a - year afterwards. Lord Brassey’s the President I am told. I seen - him in Melbourne when he was guv’nor there. He’ll take care things - goes right, I’ll be bound. So no more from old Jack.’ - -There were tears in Mrs. Banneret’s eyes when the letter, longer than -his ordinary literary efforts, was concluded. ‘Poor old fellow!’ she -said. ‘How well I remember the morning you drove me into Barrawong to -hear his story and give my casting vote. How weak and ill he looked! -But I felt sure he was speaking the truth. And so we accepted the -“Last Chance,” luckily for us all!’ - -‘Yes, indeed. I believe your vote turned the scale. A little thing -would have prevented me taking the risk. So many golden hopes had -proved failures. There was Annandale-Wilson, such a fine -fellow—clever, experienced, high up in the Civil Service—lost all his -savings in just such another tempting investment. Indirectly it caused -his death, I believe, from work and worry.’ - -‘How sorry we both were, I remember. Well we must be grateful that -our lot in life is different. But I don’t like this new departure. -Shall you have to go out again? Remember we are not so young as we -were. Can’t you send any one?’ - -‘It is so difficult to find any one with full knowledge of mining who, -at the same time, can be absolutely trusted. Reggie, of course, is too -young, and has not been in the way of mining matters lately.’ - -‘If you will allow me to give an opinion, I fail to see your point, -sir. Who was it as to age that began life at seventeen on his own -account, and made rather a success of it, as I’ve heard tell? As to -mining, you must have forgotten that Eric and I made a “cradle,” and -went into the alluvial till we nearly washed out gold to the value of -one pound sterling. Besides, at Barrawong, near a mining township with -twenty thousand miners, we heard nothing _but_ of mines and technical -terms, block and frontage—quartz and alluvial—half-ounce dirt and -payable stone. Why, we have all the lore and science of gold -extraction at our fingers’ ends!’ - -‘I see,’ said his father with a quiet smile, ‘that I have been making -the ordinary parental mistake of not seeing that my children have -really grown up. What do you propose then? Are you prepared with a -suggestion?’ - -‘Of course I am,’ said the youngster confidently. ‘The solution is -easy. Old Jack Waters being dead—dear old fellow that he was—there -appears a chance of the Pilot Mount community becoming disorganised, -unless a person with recognised authority takes command. The -appointment of a stranger would be risky, or perhaps ineffectual. You -must go out and take me with you as lieutenant and adjutant. I shall -soon pick up the necessary “colonial experience.” Eric is to stay at -Hexham to look after mother and the girls, as well as to see that no -one gets the weather-gauge of me with Corisande in my absence. And, I -think, that’s about all, sir.’ - -‘All, indeed!’ said his mother, looking at her first-born with a -mixture of surprise and admiration. ‘You seem to have summed up the -situation with what looks like completeness, and certainly the idea -seems feasible. We shall be “Marianas in our moated grange,” of -course, in your absence, but under more favourable social conditions. -What does your father say?’ - -‘Really, my dear, he seems to be cast for the part of “Brer Rabbit,” -and to have nothing left but to “go on sayin’ nothin’.” With the aid -and counsel of the eldest son, and your not less original aid, you -have quite disposed of all difficulties. When do we start, my dear? -To-morrow morning?’ - -‘Nonsense, Arnold! You know there is something else to be done first; -and, privately, you are thanking your stars for the chance of a little -change and travel. I have no objection—or rather, I _have_, as I -always have had; but I don’t urge it when it is plainly a duty. So I -shall “buckle your spurs upon your heel” metaphorically, as I used to -do sometimes practically in old days. Reggie, my boy, I trust you to -look after your father and discourage unnecessary risks. Now I must -go and tell the girls.’ - -And the brave matron, certainly the virtual head of the household, -departed to make important communications in a mood much less calm and -self-contained than her words and outward appearance indicated. - -‘There appears nothing else for it,’ said the father to the son, after -a few moments’ reflection. ‘It’s rather a bore, and hard on your -mother, though she won’t admit it, my having to start off for the -other end of the world at a moment’s notice. But apart from the -importance of the issue at stake, it will do you good to see something -more of the land where your countrymen are at work, extending this -Empire of ours, or rather strengthening the foundations, now it has -been raised to such a height. Our forefathers “builded better than -they knew.”’ - -‘I am with you, sir, to the death—which is not a figure of speech. -With regard to the mining, pure and simple, Eric and I haven’t so much -to learn, though, of course, this Pilot Mount property is a far more -extensive and scientific affair. But at Barrawong I remember hearing -you say that in five years of your reign there, the miners won sixteen -tons of alluvial gold. Not such a trifle, was it?’ - -‘Quite correct. Embodied in one of my Annual Reports, with the ounces, -pennyweights, and grains added from the returns of the Mining -Registrar. It is there now for reference. However, I daresay we can -straighten up things, and see the different colonies within six -months. Four weeks to Albany, nowadays, makes short work of the -voyage to Australia.’ - -The bombshell, as exploded by Mrs. Banneret on her return from the -conference, produced much surprise and a certain amount of -consternation among the young people. But after the smoke cleared -away, so to speak, confidence returned, as it became gradually -apparent that no harm was likely to result. At first, Corisande was -disposed to insist upon going home, and writing to apprise her mother. -But on its being represented that her leave extended to the end of the -autumn, and that whether she availed herself of it in travel, or by -remaining at Hexham with her friends, could make no difference to her -family, she consented to remain. The military and the naval brother -succumbed to the same argument, perhaps the more readily as certain -county entertainments were to take place shortly. The question was -fully debated, and as, obviously, it seemed unkind to desert Hexham on -the occasion of their host and the eldest son leaving for foreign -parts, a compromise was agreed to. - - * * * * * - -On the appointed day, therefore, the Peninsular and Oriental Company’s -royal mail steamer _Mesopotamia_, 10,500 tons, had in her passenger -list the names of Arnold and Reginald Banneret, booked for Fremantle, -West Australia. Nothing out of the ordinary range of P. & O. -passengers’ mild adventures occurred until the Red Sea was reached, -the historic waters of which were destined in their case to furnish a -truly sensational incident. At Suez they had dined in the great -quadrangle of the P. & O. Hotel, in the open air, where immense -tables had been set out. It was a bizarre and dramatic scene. Above -them the cloudless blue sky; around and afar the limitless sands of -the Desert. Every variety of costume and head-dress diversified the -three hundred and fifty passengers—Arab turbans of scarlet and yellow, -or white and pink with gold edges. - -A few days afterwards the _Mesopotamia_ was slipping smoothly and -pleasantly through the calm waters of the historic sea, on which -hardly a ripple was visible. On the north-west shore were the -irregular peaks and jagged outlines of the mountains of Palestine. It -was the charming after-breakfast interval, when there was absolutely -nothing to do but to read or frivol aimlessly. Mr. Banneret was -walking up and down, his son was applying himself to an abstruse -treatise on auriferous formations, when the Captain appeared on deck, -and after a short colloquy with a quartermaster, joined the officer on -the bridge. - -‘What do you make of that?’ he asked, gazing at a faint line, which -gradually made itself distinct athwart the fair blue sky. - -‘Smoke of a steamer, sir—Russian battleship. It’s one of those -volunteer cruisers let through the Canal, under a promise not to carry -more than so many guns.’ - -‘She is overhauling us at a great rate,’ said the Captain. ‘I’d better -prepare the passengers.’ - -This was hardly necessary, as every field-glass—and there were some -good ones on board—had been directed at the strange vessel for the -last few minutes. All now knew that she was a Russian volunteer -cruiser, which had been watching the Red Sea for vessels carrying -contraband of war, and that they would be stopped and searched, -unless, indeed, the Russian captain decided to sink the _Mesopotamia_ -first and explain afterwards. This had been done before, they -reflected, in the case of the _Knight Commander_. It was not a -pleasant idea. Some of the lady passengers turned pale; they all -behaved with commendable self-possession. - -There was no doubt as to the intention of the Russian volunteer -cruiser. Rapidly approaching, she fired a shot across the bows of the -_Mesopotamia_ and signalled to her to stop until a boat, which -promptly left the cruiser’s side, could come on board. The boat was so -crowded with armed men that there was hardly room for the oarsmen. At -the same time the look-out man reported ‘big steamer on the weather -bow.’ All turned with deep interest towards the strange vessel, that -in the excitement concentrated on the Russian cruiser had approached -nearer than the officers of the _Mesopotamia_ had remarked. Then -occurred a change of front. For some unexplained reason the order now -given to the _Mesopotamia’s_ head engineer was ‘Full speed ahead,’ the -effect of which moved the huge liner anew on her course, leaving the -Russian row-boat far behind. At the same time her launch, just -lowered, was hauled on board again. - -The excitement of the passengers became intense. The stranger steamer, -which was coming up at a high rate of speed, altered her course a -couple of points and steered straight for the P. & O. liner, when she -suddenly hoisted the Japanese flag. Then it was seen that this vessel, -much larger, carrying more guns and apparently a greater number of men -than the Russian cruiser, was the new Japanese battleship the -_Hatsuce_. - -The Russian cruiser apparently recognised this fact, for she changed -her course, and after taking her boat on board went the way she came. -The Japanese man-of-war came up and signalled the _Mesopotamia_ to -heave-to. Presently a boat with eight oars came alongside. It was not -an ordinary ship’s boat, but, to every one’s wild astonishment, a -‘whaleboat,’ and the tall man with the heavy white moustache, who had -the steer oar in his hand, was no other than our old friend Captain -Bucklaw (otherwise Hayston), who had volunteered for service with -Japan at the beginning of the war, and characteristically risen to his -present position. - -What a joyful recognition and interchange of greetings was there, and -how grateful were all the lady passengers who crowded round him, as he -stepped on the deck with his old air of conquest and authority, as of -a Viking on a conquered galley. - -‘How in the world did you come here?’ asked Mr. Banneret; ‘you are -always turning up in the nick of time. In the service of the Mikado, -too?’ - -‘There are few services in which I have not sailed or fought,’ said -the Captain. ‘And many a year ago I fought side by side with a crew -of Japanese sailors. In old South Sea Island days Captain Peese and I -were trading in a small brigantine which we owned at the time, when we -had to fight for our lives.’ - -‘Oh, do tell us!’ pleaded the wife of a colonial governor as the -passengers crowded round. - -‘It was my first visit,’ said he, ‘to the Pelew Islands, whence a -young chief, known as Prince Lee Boo, had been taken to England and -had there died, to the great grief of all who knew him. An -enthusiastic writer had described his countrymen as “delicate in their -sentiments, friendly in their dispositions,” and, in short, a people -who do honour to the human race.’ The Captain’s description of the -undaunted manner in which fifty of these noble islanders, who tried to -cut them off, climbed up the side of the brigantine and slashed away -at the boarding nettings with their heavy swords, was truly graphic. -Stripped to the waist, they fought gallantly and unflinchingly, though -twelve of their number had been killed by the fire of musketry from -the brigantine. One of them had seized Captain Peese, and, dragging -him to the side, stabbed him in the neck, and threw him into the prahu -alongside, where his head would soon have left his body, when Hayston -and a Japanese sailor dashed over after him and killed the two natives -that were holding him down, while another was about to decapitate him. -At this stage, three of the brigantine’s crew lay dead and nearly all -were wounded. There were twenty-two islanders killed and as many more -badly wounded before they gave up the attempt to cut off the vessel. -‘Since then,’ remarked the Captain, as he concluded his narrative, ‘I -have had my own opinion about Japanese on sea and on land.’ - -‘But how did you happen to get a naval command?’ - -‘Well, I knew, of course, that they had Britishers in their employ, -both officers and men. So I applied for the first vacant berth. It -wasn’t long before I was put into commission with the _Hatsuce_ here. -Isn’t she a beauty? One of the two boats bought from the republic of -Chile. She has a torpedo delivery, too, and ten 4-inch quick-firers, -besides three Maxims, carries heavier metal than any ship of her size, -and can work up to twenty-five knots. But I’m disappointed that -Russian fellow wouldn’t stop. Our little engagement would have -interested the ladies.’ - -Years had, of course, told upon the bold buccaneer. Silvered were the -hair and moustache, but the grand form, the stately bearing, were -unaltered. The bold blue eyes had lost nothing of their fire or -fascination. He was, as ever, a general favourite and _succès de -salon_, in spite of rumours of wild deeds in other days. On leaving, -he carried with him the good wishes of the lady passengers and nearly -all those of the opposite sex, especially when he professed his -intention of escorting them to within neutral waters. - -Colombo, with its brilliant leafage and gorgeous colour-scheme, seemed -to be quite a short sea-trip after their sensational adventure. It was -familiar to Arnold Banneret, but to his son Reginald the erstwhile -Dutch fortresses had all the effect and excitement of novelty. The -half-European, half-Oriental flavour of all things, the luxurious -habits of the residents, the population—various of colour, race, and -religion, the paradisial forest surroundings, the wondrous temples, -lakes, ruins, relics of a perished civilisation, came with unexpected -freshness to the younger man, who on his first journey to England had -been too young to appreciate the wonders and glories of this, one of -the latest and richest of England’s Crown Colonies. - -‘What a wonderful outlook!’ said Reginald, as they sat at breakfast in -a lofty cool room at the G.F.H. (as the Galle Face Hotel is -irreverently and familiarly known). ‘It is good to travel. How it -broadens one’s views! What a change from that pestilential Port Said -and the Red Sea! By the way, I hope the _Times_ is making a row about -our threatened capture. These blundering Russians _did_ take the -_Malacca_ a month since, and put an armed crew on board. What a bore -if we had met with the adventure! Captain Bucklaw and his Japanese -cruiser saved us from that fate. What a magnificent fellow the Captain -is! I never saw a finer man in my life, although he is growing old. -What adventures he has had! You knew him years ago, didn’t you, sir?’ - -‘Yes, many years ago. He _is_ a most remarkable man, as you say; but -that he is the right man in the right place occasionally, and was so -when we met him, no one can doubt for a moment. I will tell you more -about him another time.’ - -Albany—Fremantle—Perth—all outposts of the ‘Briton’s far-flung line’ -of conquest and colonisation, the latter the more important operation -of the two, were successively reached, and now, in Reggie Banneret’s -eyes, far their most exciting and interesting objective came within -the range of vision. That Aladdin’s cave, Pilot Mount, was at length -reached, and the great desert-seeming panorama, strange and unfamiliar -as it was to the graduate of Cambridge, did not fail to impress him on -that account. - -‘This is something like!’ he exclaimed. ‘It is so delightfully -un-English, except in results. Such a true, unadulterated bit of -Africa, Australia, America, all in one. Don’t let any one say it’s -unconventional, uncomfortable, disagreeable. Why, that’s the beauty of -it all. It’s what I came out to see; what makes one proud of being an -Englishman, that is, an Australian, which is all the same, of course. -I must say I like to belong to people that have _done_ things.’ - -‘And suffered too,’ said his father. ‘You must not forget that side of -the adventure; it is, or rather was, very essential.’ - -‘I suppose there was a good deal of that ingredient mixed up with the -gold and glory of the earlier days of the Field.’ - -‘Field is a very apposite expression as applied to gold -areas—battlefield almost more appropriate, when typhoid fever -decimated the men in every camp; hunger, thirst, and privation of -every kind took toll; when water was dearer than wine or spirits on -many goldfields. And now, what a transformation!’ - -‘Transformation indeed!’ said the younger man; ‘it appears to me like -the work of an enchanter who has waved his wand, and lo, behold! what -has arisen? Spouting fountains where the famished horses and camels -scraped the barren sand; the green growth of gardens, irrigated and -fertilised; fruit and vegetables, and this’—looking round the lofty, -spacious room in which they had been dining. ‘Waiter, bring more ice. -This Chasselas will be none the worse for cooling.’ - -The formal reception of the mining magnate of Pilot Mount was much -like any other function of the sort, and was transacted with the -usual, or, perhaps, slightly unusual formalities. Once the principal -shareholder and part owner of a very valuable mining property, Arnold -Banneret was now almost the sole owner. Old Jack Waters’s will had -been proved, probate had been granted, and all necessary forms -complied with. The erst ex-Commissioner of Goldfields at Barrawong, in -New South Wales, found himself one of the richest men in Australia. -The mine was a ‘going concern’ in every sense of the word, but after a -month’s sojourn, a steadily increasing desire to see once more the -higher aspects of civilisation commenced to assert itself, though -there was a club well-conducted and most comfortable, and also polo—a -game of which Reggie was passionately fond, with ponies which were -excellent, the members practised and well-mannered. The working of the -great mine, with all the latest appliances for the extraction of the -precious metal, and 2000 men on the payroll, was in itself an -interesting, even exciting, spectacle—a triumph of mechanism to watch; -all but human in so much of its automatic action. But even this -source of interest and occupation came to an end, and one day Reggie -confessed to his father that after, of course, a look-in at Sydney and -Melbourne, he should not be sorry to be on board a P. & O. liner once -more. - -‘If I did not feel,’ said his father, ‘that I was quitting Australia -for the last time, which is for me a mournful reflection, I should -welcome the idea; but I cannot regard the desertion of one’s native -land, in my case and yours, as merely a matter of practical -convenience. - - ‘The land which knew my life’s best hours, - Ere Fate had gloomed youth’s vernal bowers, - And Hope’s bright blossoms marred, - -as some boyish rhymer has it.’ - -‘Australia has done well for us, sir,’ said the young fellow, ‘and you -have done something for her, permit me to say, in rearing a family -true to the best traditions of the dear old land, our Mother England, -God bless her! It remains with them to carry out your policy, and as -your heir and eldest son I dedicate myself to the task.’ - -‘God bless you, my boy!’ said Arnold Banneret, grasping his hand. ‘You -have spoken like the son of your father, and _his_ father, who was -strong on the point of the loyalty of Australia to the Crown. How -often have I heard him condemn the self-indulgent, luxurious lives -spent by the sons of wealthy colonists. Only, what about this P. & O. -arrangement?’ - -‘I have thought of that, sir. Pilot Mount will run alone, and keep -straight by itself for a year. Within that time I propose to return, -if I can get the permission of a certain young lady—I may as well say -_the_ young lady—to help in the colonisation scheme.’ - -‘I understand, my dear boy. I trust the affair may come off. You have -my best wishes. But consider the climate, the—I don’t say rougher, but -the untried social conditions of colonial life. Take thought ere it be -too late, I beg of you.’ - -‘I _have_ considered that side of the matter well, my dear Dad; and if -Corisande be the girl I take her to be, she will like the life all the -better for the opportunity of watching the development of a great -British community from its initial stages.’ - -‘Possibly, possibly, my dear boy; knowing what I do of life and -feminine characteristics I dare not say probably. That will be for you -to discover by experience. Everything, that is, everything connected -with the success, the happiness, even the comfort of your after life, -depends upon the result of that experiment.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -Again the train, the monotonous stretches of level waste, unbroken -save here and there by straggling villages, or prosperous -farm-holdings; rich and populous goldfields, or, as occasionally -happened, ill-fated and deserted mines, with melancholy machinery, all -rusted and abandoned. On these and other landmarks was writ large the -tale of hope and enterprise, success, decay, despair. All were -heedfully observed and noted by the younger traveller; as regularly -explained and classified by the less impulsive senior. Then darkness, -a cooler atmosphere, lights, sea strand, city and hotel—goal of the -weary traveller! - - * * * * * - -England again! Hexham Hall. Again the aged woods, the peerless turf, -the murmuring brook, the delicious, settled comfort of English country -life. Then such rides and drives, such traps and drags, broughams and -landaus!—all the component parts of fully appointed coach-houses and -stables, where expense was not too closely regarded; such, and all -other matters of comparative luxury, seemed to be forthcoming with a -sort of Arabian Nights profusion. - -Then, to crown all, they had left West Australia in its autumnal month -of March, and were here in April. - - Oh, to be in England, now that April’s here! - -sang Browning from Italy, and it seemed as if every thrush and -blackbird in Hexham woods had echoed the aspiration. It was a season -of hope and joy, if ever such a halcyon time occurred on this -occasionally untoward-seeming planet. Mrs. Banneret was serenely, -though secretly, exultant, because her husband and first-born had -safely returned, having successfully carried out the object of their -mission. Hermione and Vanda, passionately fond of their brothers, and -much petted by their father, were charmed with the state of matters -generally, and looked forward to even more important developments when -Lord and Lady Hexham, with ‘darling Corisande,’ after which fashion -that young lady was generally alluded to, should arrive in a week’s -time. Eric had taken his degree creditably at Cambridge, if not -brilliantly. If he had not won the triumph of a ‘double first’ like -Reggie, he had done enough for honour. - -There were, of course, the hunting fixtures to be arranged for. The -Hexham stud was in great form and buckle. The Banneret girls, who had -ridden all sorts of horses over all sorts of fences and roads since -earliest childhood, were finished performers across country. Truth to -tell, unless they came to grief through ‘trappy’ hedge and ditch -obstacles, there was no danger of their being stopped by English -fences after the stiff posts and rails of their native land. They -looked forward to glorious performances when Reggie would be able to -escort them. - -‘Don’t expect too much, my good Vanda,’ said Hermione; ‘he’ll be too -nervous about Corisande’s getting hurt, to trouble about you and me. A -_fiancée_ counts for ever so much more than the dearest sisters.’ - -‘I can hardly believe that; but we must make allowances. If Corisande -accepts him, we may be thankful. He might have been caught by some -smart colonial girl. Some of them are very good-looking.’ - -‘Are they, indeed? Who is a snob now? as you sometimes say to me. And -what are we but colonial?’ - -‘Oh, but we’re different!’ - -‘I can’t see it. Dad has been lucky, and we are ever so rich—of course -“in the swim,” and so on; but as for being anything that entitles us -to look down on our countrywomen, the idea is ludicrous. Don’t let -people say we can’t stand our oats.’ - -‘I apologise, and promise not to offend again. Of course it’s absurd -to talk as if we were anything but middle-class people, though of -course the Banneret family is as old as the Heptarchy.’ - -‘That’s very well to know; but the less we bother about family -descent, the more people will think of us. The Honourable Corisande is -a good sort, and an Earl’s daughter. Rank, when there’s money to back -it up, _is_ a good thing socially. No sensible person denies it. But -the _woman_, the real woman, apart from all other considerations, is -what makes for happiness in marriage, or otherwise. _We_ know this one -to be a straight, plucky, good-tempered girl, with no nonsense about -her; fond too of Reggie, which is everything. So if the high -contracting parties agree about settlements and things, it will be all -plain sailing.’ - -‘It’s a big _if_; but Reggie’s good-looking, clever, and -presentable—well off too. He’s a catch as men go. I daresay it will -come off. But will she go to West Australia?’ - -‘If she cares about him, she’ll go _anywhere_, and be happy if he is -with her; if she only cares about herself, she’ll be miserable -everywhere, and it won’t matter where she goes.’ - -Not many days after this important colloquy, the arrival was announced -in the society papers of the Earl and Countess of Hexham and their -daughters at Hexham Hall, which they were revisiting on the invitation -of the owner. Mr. Banneret and his eldest son, lately returned from -West Australia, had been on a tour of inspection over their extensive -mining and other properties. This information was followed by notices -of various hunting fixtures, at which the Misses Banneret and their -brother, accompanied by the Earl of Hexham and the Honourable -Corisande Aylmer, took leading positions. They were admirably mounted, -and, like all Australian colonists, rode fearlessly yet with judgment. -Lady Hexham, with Mrs. Banneret and the Honourable Adeline Aylmer, -drove to the meet in the Hexham landau. There were other functions and -festivities, few of which the young people missed; as, indeed, why -should they? Youth is the time for enjoyment, and being all of the -right age, healthy, happy, and hopeful, they enjoyed the pleasures -suitable to the season, to their age and position, with all the ardour -of early youth. They went everywhere and did everything,—hunting, -polo, balls, garden parties. It did not pass without notice that the -young people of the new and the old Hexham families were constantly -together, and that at all social gatherings and entertainments Reggie -Banneret was never very far from the Honourable Corisande’s vicinity. -Of course the heads of departments, not to mention the juniors of both -families, were not unobservant of these coincidences, but like wise -parents and relations ‘went on sayin’ nothin’’ until events should -shape themselves definitely. - -So it came to pass, after one of the great functions of the period—to -be precise, it was the annual county ball—that Corisande came to her -mother with her confession. Reggie Banneret had spoken out—said, in -fact, that he had felt from the first moment he saw her that there was -no other woman in the world for him, and so on, and so on. ‘I won’t -bore you, mother,’ said the girl, ‘but he said all the usual things -men say at such times, I suppose, and a few more. He _is_ clever, -though a trifle too romantic—isn’t he? and—_I love him_.’ - -‘My dear child,’ said the matron, stroking her hair tenderly as she -knelt before her with her head on her mother’s lap, ‘you could not -bore me on such an occasion as this, involving indeed your future -happiness as well as that of all related to you. It is not a matter to -be treated lightly, whatever the people composing “the smart set” may -say.’ - -‘And what do _you_ say, my darling mother?’ said Corisande, raising -her head, while her eyes shone the more brightly, as the tear-drops -fell slowly, when she made her appeal. - -‘My dear, dear Corisande,’ said the elder woman, as she half-rose and -drew the sobbing girl more closely to her, ‘you have no reason to be -in doubt as to our reply—your father’s and mine—to Reginald’s offer. -We have noticed his attentions. They were open and straightforward. -Had we disapproved, we should have returned to Bruges, and so -withdrawn from the hazard of an unsuitable marriage. But so far from -disapproval, you can tell your Reginald and our new relations that we -have no hesitation in giving our unqualified consent. We have had -abundant opportunities of knowing the family characteristics, and have -come to the conclusion that we like and respect ALL the members of the -Banneret family, and have reason to bless the day when we made their -acquaintance.’ - -Lord Hexham was absent in London, having retreated to his club, as he -commonly did when there was any function on hand which did not -specially demand his attendance. - - ‘I’m getting too old (he wrote) for these late-at-night racketings - and standings about. I know where I am at afternoon whist in the - Senior United and the Travellers’, but I don’t dance now, and - balls bore me. You and the girls, my Lady, can manage these minor - matters a deal better than I can. There’s no objection that I can - see to Corisande’s marriage, if they’ve made up their minds to - tackle the Great Experiment. Who is it says that—Thackeray, or - some other fellow? I never was good at quotations. What I mean is, - that he is a presentable, steady young fellow, with brains—done - well at Cambridge, hasn’t he?—good-looking—that is, looks like a - gentleman, which is the main thing. The betting’s six to four on, - with such a good start. He’s got the wherewithal—can’t do without - that. So clap ’em on the back, my Lady—you know what I mean—and - tell ’em I’ll sign, seal, and deliver when the settlements are - ready. Corisande’s a good girl; hope she won’t go too far - away—rough place West Australia—but I daresay they’ll fit in. I - knew Jerry Taylour, K.C.B.; we were “subs” together in old army - days. They tell me he’s Governor out there. Daresay he’ll ask ’em - to dinner. Expect me a day or two before _the_ day. - - Hexham.’ - -His Lordship, as he freely owned, was not good at letter-writing; but -this was much from him, and to the point. It conveyed more than many -carefully composed epistles. He meant what he said, and once his word -was given never departed from it. Lady Hexham knew he would arrive -punctually. She was wise in not requiring him to stay at Hexham too -long at one time. He had never, he said, ‘cared much for country -life.’ He was a man of town habitudes and occupations. At Bruges, of -course, he compelled himself to conform to the altered circumstances -of the family. And this, to his credit be it spoken, he managed to do, -without loss of cash or self-respect. - -However, since the sale of the old Hall and estate, matters had -changed wonderfully for the better. With his sons doing well in the -Army and Navy, his eldest daughter engaged to a young fellow who was -likely to make a figure in the world, and was, moreover, a man of -fortune, things were looking up. Why he wanted to go back to -Australia, he couldn’t understand. Were not England and the Continent -good enough for him—for any man? Corisande would have to go too, he -supposed. Well, she was a good girl; her place, with her ideas, was -with her husband. He didn’t approve of wives being in one hemisphere -and husbands in another. Didn’t work well—not in his experience at any -rate. Colonies weren’t such bad places either—come to think: the money -came from there; and but for it and the man who made it—a gentleman -_aux bouts des ongles_—they would all have been stuck at Bruges for -years to come. The Hexham family, at any rate, had no right to -grumble. - -All in good time the more important function connected with Hexham -Hall was concluded to the satisfaction of all concerned. The -settlements were even more liberal than the hereditary family -solicitor of the Aylmers had suggested, or than Lady Hexham, who had -an unseen but controlling influence in such matters, had hoped for. -As for the young people, according to their age and unwisdom they -pooh-poohed such trivialities, holding that the love that never shall -die— - - Till the sun grows cold, - And the stars are old, - And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold— - -would be amply sufficient in its tenderness and truth to guard their -future lives from all ‘ills that flesh is heir to,’ and more besides. -But their elders knew better. So everything was done with due legal -form and security: trustees appointed, and all the rest of it. - -The wedding came off triumphantly at St. James’s, Hanover Square. The -day, wonderful to relate, was fine; all the surroundings seemed -sympathetic. Two tall, handsome Australian cousins came home by the -_Moldavia_, P. & O., just in time to make up the proper number of -bridesmaids who walked up the aisle with the impressive dignity proper -to the occasion. Half London was there, of course. Every one wanted to -see the bridegroom, erroneously reported to have twenty thousand a -year, and to have worked as a digger on the field before he ‘made his -pile.’ And when Lord Hexham led the Honourable Corisande to the altar, -the stately peer and his lovely daughter evoked audible exclamations -of approval. Finally, as amid the melodious crash of the ‘Wedding -March,’ Reggie Banneret and she walked out as wedded pair, the friends -of both families, and even mere acquaintances, seemed infected with -that mysterious feminine sympathy which at all weddings finds relief -in tears. - - -THE END - - - - -_Printed by_ R. & R. Clark, Limited, _Edinburgh_. - - - - -THE NOVELS OF ROLF BOLDREWOOD. - - - THE GHOST CAMP; or, The Avengers. Crown 8vo. 6s. - -_Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. each._ - - ROBBERY UNDER ARMS. - A STORY OF LIFE AND ADVENTURE IN THE BUSH AND IN THE GOLD-FIELDS - OF AUSTRALIA. - _GUARDIAN._—“A singularly spirited and stirring tale of - Australian life, chiefly in the remoter settlements.” - - A MODERN BUCCANEER. - _DAILY CHRONICLE._—“We do not forget _Robbery under Arms_, or any - of its various successors, when we say that Rolf Boldrewood has - never done anything so good as _A Modern Buccaneer_. It is good, - too, in a manner which is for the author a new one.” - - THE MINER’S RIGHT. - A TALE OF THE AUSTRALIAN GOLD-FIELDS. - _WORLD._—“Full of good passages, passages abounding in vivacity, - in the colour and play of life.... 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HILL E.C., AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK. - 40,000 16.8.’05 - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - - -A small number of clear typographical errors (mostly quote marks) have -been corrected. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Last Chance, by Rolf Boldrewood - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST CHANCE *** - -***** This file should be named 61385-0.txt or 61385-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/3/8/61385/ - -Produced by MWS, David Wilson and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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