Part 51 (1/2)

He said that he might or might not return himself to Australia,--it would depend on circ.u.mstances; but that he could not be idle in England, and was likely to become either a fellow-curate of Rowland's, or a neighbouring one. He liked a city curacy, because, having taught the heathen in another land for many years, he thought he might do some good amongst them at home. He told them, also, that it was during a year's residence in Melbourne that he had known Miss Hall's sister. He had been obliged to undertake clerical duty there, because his health was failing in his attempts to convert the aborigines.

Mr Jones was a man of grave and quiet manner, one who seemed to think much and deeply. He habitually led the conversation, without pedantry, to religious or instructive subjects, and when lighter matter was introduced, was given rather to withdraw his mind from it to his own thoughts.

He had been little in society for many years, during which his time had been pa.s.sed in the highest, weightiest, gravest, grandest of all labours,--that of studying to turn the human soul from darkness to light. Now that he found himself in his own country again, he felt far behind most men in worldly conversation though very far beyond them, not only in religious, but in practical, useful, and general knowledge; such knowledge, I mean, as would be suited to the improvement, not merely of savages, but of the wild, lawless bushmen, gold diggers, and convicts of the Australian world. His manners were gentlemanlike but slightly old-fas.h.i.+oned, and, doubtless, many a young Englander would have found matter for ridicule in some of his doings and sayings. Not so, however, the good and cultivated Englishman of the nineteenth century. He would have found abundance to love and respect in the man who left the luxury, science, learning and refinement of England, in that most wonderful of all ages, to labour amongst the refuse of her people in the largest of her colonies. For Mr Jones had seen but little, during his twenty years of Australian life, of the better portion of Australian settlers, or the grandeur of her cities. He had devoted himself to those who had no means of gaining religious teaching elsewhere and he thanked G.o.d that the years of his ministry had not been without abundance of those fruits in which the heart of the laborious worker in Christ's vineyard rejoices.

When Mr Jones left the farm the following morning, it was with a promise to pay it another visit at no very distant period. He took away with him a letter to Rowland, which was to introduce the brother, clergymen to each other. As he shook Mr Prothero by the hand, he thanked him warmly for his hospitality, and then abruptly added, 'Take care of that young girl Gladys. She will surely prove a blessing to you, and repay you for any kindness you may bestow upon her,'

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE LADY'S MAID.

Miss HALL and Freda were sitting alone in the morning-room that has before been alluded to. The former was much more nervous than Freda had ever seen her. First she took up her work, then her book, then she began to copy some music. Freda had great pleasure in watching her, and in remarking that the calm Serena could be excited by the expected appearance of a lover of twenty years ago; also in observing that she had a most becoming colour on her cheeks, and looked quite young; also that she was dressed even with more care than usual, and her hair was smooth as brush could make it. Freda longed to laugh at her, but she forbore; she felt that there was something very touching in this meeting between two people who had parted under such uncomfortable circ.u.mstances so many years ago.

When the door bell rang Freda rose to leave the room.

'If you please, Freda, remain where you are, I would very much rather.'

Freda resumed her seat, and shortly after Mr Jones was announced.

'Quite an old man; twice as old as Nita,' was Freda's first thought as she looked at him.

Miss Hall rose and advanced to meet Mr Jones. They shook hands, Freda thought, very much like other people, and then Miss Hall introduced her, and Mr Jones bowed.

'I promised your sister to come and see you, Miss Hall, when I came down into Wales,' he said after he was duly seated.

'I am very much obliged to you, it was very kind,' was the reply.

Freda saw that they were both as nervous and shy as a couple of children, and came to the rescue by apologising for her father's unavoidable absence, he having gone to a neighbouring tenant's, and by saying that he would be at home at luncheon.

By degrees they all three got into conversation, and Mr Jones gave Miss Hall an account of her sister and her family. One little girl was very like Miss Hall, and she was the general favourite.'

'I am sure she must be very pretty,' suggested Freda.

'Very,' said Mr Jones, with a smile at Freda, of greater archness than she gave him credit for.

'Don't you think Miss Hall very little altered?' she asked again.

'I think I should have known her anywhere, though I pa.s.sed her in the twilight, uncertain who she was.'

A long conversation followed upon various general topics, until the luncheon bell rang. As no Mr Gwynne appeared, Freda was obliged to make another excuse for him; but Mr Jones seemed perfectly satisfied without him, if not relieved by his non-appearance.

Freda proposed a walk as soon as luncheon was over, and she and Miss Hall took their guest to see the school, which Freda was careful to say was under Miss Hall's superintendence. Then they pioneered him to various points of view, which he seemed to look upon with the eye of a real lover of the beauties of nature; and finally they rested on a rustic seat at the top of a wooded hill, whence they looked down on the magnificent valley beneath, with its green meadows, winding river, and boundary of distant mountains.

Alter Freda had remained here a few minutes, she suddenly said,--

'Would you mind my just running down to Mrs Prothero's to settle with her about Gladys? I am sure we shall none of us be happy until that matter is arranged. If you will go down through the wood, Nita, I will join you at the waterfall, or somewhere else, in less than a quarter of an hour. Will you excuse me, Mr Jones?'

'Certainly,' was the reply.