Part 34 (1/2)
”I have indeed,” I replied.
”Well--you've grown from a boy into a man, and a devilish fine one too.”
Here the dear old chap patted me on the back and looked up at my face, a great deal higher up than his. ”Well! naturally, you've changed. So have your people, your young brothers and sisters have turned into men and women while you've been away. And then again, another change--a great one too--you're married.”
”Yes! thank G.o.d I am.”
”I am sure you have good reason, my boy. But my idea is this, people--the best of people--don't like surprises,--even one's own friends. Now, what I want you to do is to bring your wife and come and stay at Marahmee for a week, while they're getting your rooms ready for you at North Sh.o.r.e. There's n.o.body there now but Antonia and her husband. It wants another pair of young people to enliven the place a bit. And Charley Carryall will go over and tell them all about you and your pretty Miranda, while you and I settle our partners.h.i.+p affairs.”
I could see how it was; our good old friend, with a kindness and delicacy of feeling which I have rarely seen equalled, had all along made up his mind that Miranda and I should begin our Sydney experiences with a visit to his hospitable mansion. After a talk with the captain, for which purpose he had feigned an interest in South Sea ”curios,” they had come to the conclusion that it would be more prudent that the family should have a few days to accustom themselves to the idea of my marriage. In the mean time his daughter, Mrs. Neuchamp, would be able to give Miranda the benefit of her experience as a Sydney matron of some years' standing, and to ensure that she made her introduction under favourable circ.u.mstances.
Miranda, naturally nervous at the idea of then and there making her appearance among a group of relatives wholly unknown to her, was much relieved at the delay thus granted, and cheerfully acceded to the proposed arrangement.
”That being all settled, I'll get home and have everything ready for you when you arrive. The captain will take care of you. He knows the road out, eh, Charley? night or day; so good-bye till dinner time. Seven o'clock sharp.”
Still talking, Mr. Frankston descended to his boat, and making a long board, proceeded to beat down the harbour on his homeward voyage, waving his handkerchief at intervals until he rounded a point and was lost to our gaze.
It was not very long after this interview that we found ourselves in our berth at the Circular Quay, where, unlike Melbourne and some other ports, nothing more was needed for disembarkation but to step on sh.o.r.e into the city. Our good comrades of so many days were carried off in cabs to their destinations, with the exception of the Percivals, who, having been invited to Government House, found an aide-de-camp and the viceregal carriage awaiting them on the wharf. At such a time there is always a certain amount of fuss and anxiety with reference to luggage, rendering farewells occasionally less sentimental than might have been expected from the character of marine friends.h.i.+ps. But it was not so in our experience. Miss Vavasour and Mrs. Craven exchanged touching farewells with Miranda, mingled with solemn promises to meet at given dates--to write--to do all sorts of things necessary for their keeping up the flame of friends.h.i.+p. Then at the last moment Colonel and Mrs.
Percival came up. ”My dearest Miranda,” said this lady, ”don't forget that you are my sister, not in word only. Put me to the proof whenever you need a sister's aid, and it shall be always at your service. Kiss Auntie Miranda, Charlie darling, and tell her you will always love her.”
”She picked me up out of the sea, when the naughty shark was going to eat us all. She's a good auntie, isn't she, mother?” said the little chap responding readily. ”Good-bye, Auntie Miranda.”
”I am not a man of many words, Mr. Telfer!” said the colonel; ”but if I can be of service to you, now or at any future time I shall be offended if you do not let me know;” and then the stern soldier shook my hand in a way which gave double meaning to the pledge.
It was yet early in the day, and the captain had duties to attend to which would keep him employed until the evening. ”I've ordered a carriage at six,” he said, ”when we'll start for Marahmee, which is about half-an-hour's drive. Until that time you can go ash.o.r.e if you like; the Botanical Gardens are just round that point, or walk down George Street, or in any other way amuse yourselves. Meanwhile, consider yourselves at home also.”
”I think we'll stay at home then, captain, for the present,” said Miranda, ”and watch the people on sh.o.r.e. You have no idea how they interest me. Everything is so new. Remember that I have never seen a carriage in my life before, or a cab, or a soldier; there goes one now--isn't he beautiful to behold? I shall sit here and make Hilary tell me the names of all the specimens as they come into view.”
”That will do capitally,” said the captain. ”I might have known that you could amuse yourself without help from any one.”
The time pa.s.sed quickly enough, with the aid of lunch. The decks were cleared by six o'clock, by which time we were ready for the hired barouche when it drove up.
Miranda and I had employed our time so well that she had learnt the names of various types of character, and many products of civilisation, of which she had been before necessarily ignorant, except from books.
”It is a perfect object lesson,” she said. ”How delightful it is to be able to see the things and people that I have only read about! I feel like those people in the _Arabian Nights_ who had been all their lives in a gla.s.s tower on a desert island. Not that our dear Norfolk Island was a desert--very far from it. And now I am going to the first grand house I ever saw, and to live in it--more wonderful still. I feel like a princess in a fairy tale,” she went on, as she smilingly skipped into the carriage. ”Everything seems so unreal. Do you think this will turn into a pumpkin, drawn by mice, like poor Cinderella's? Hers was a chariot, though. What is a chariot?”
”I remember riding in one when I was a small boy,” I answered; ”and, by the same token, I had caught a number of locusts, and put them into my hat. I was invited to uncover, as the day was warm. When I did so, the locusts flew all about the closed-up carriage and into everybody's face.
But chariots are old-fas.h.i.+oned now.”
Onward we pa.s.sed along the South Head road, while below us lay the harbour with its mult.i.tudinous bays, inlets, promontories, and green knolls, in so many instances crowned with white-walled gardens, surrounding villas and mansions, all built of pale-hued, delicately-toned sandstone.
”Oh! what a lovely, delicious bay!” cried Miranda; ”and these are the Heads, where we came in. Good-bye, old ocean, playfellow of my childhood; farewell, wind of the sea, for a while. But I shall live near you still, and hear you in my dreams. I should die--I should feel suffocated--if nothing but woods and forests were to be seen.”
”If you don't die until you can't see the ocean, or feel the winds about here, you will live a long time, my dear,” said the captain. ”I don't know a more sea-going population anywhere than this Sydney one. Half the people you meet here have been a voyage, and the boys take to a boat as the bush lads do to a horse. But here we are at the Marahmee gates, and there's my pet Antonia on the verandah ready to receive us.”
As we drove up the avenue, which was not very long, a very pretty, graceful young woman came swiftly to meet us. I knew this must be Mrs.
Neuchamp, formerly Antonia Frankston, the old man's only child. She was not grown up when I left Sydney, and I heard that she had lately married a young Englishman, who had come out with letters of introduction to Mr.
Frankston. We had seen each other last, as boy and girl, long years ago.