Part 37 (1/2)

”Not at all--sufficient for the day, you know. I begin to think that one's admirers ought to be past their first youth. They're more thoroughly appreciative. 'On his frank features middle age Had scarcely set its signet sage,' and so on. I'm sure that quite describes Mr.

Frankston. How should you like me for a mamma-in-law, Mrs. Neuchamp?

Marahmee is such a dear house, and these yachting parties are all that are wanted to make life perfect.”

”I give my consent,” said Antonia, ”but beware of delay. 'Men were deceivers ever,' and if you wait more than a fortnight your charms will be on the wane, so I warn you.”

”I like decision,” responded Miss Vavasour, ”but perhaps 'two weeks,' as our American friend used to say, is _rather hurried_ legislation. The trousseau business and the milliner's objections would be fatal. Even Miranda must have stood out for a longer respite. How long did you take, Miranda, dear? You're the pattern woman, you know, the first girl I ever saw that men and women equally delighted to honour.”

Miranda blushed charmingly, then looking up with her clear, frank eyes, that always appeared to me to be fountains of truth, as she replied--

”Hilary and I were married just a month after he asked me to be his wife, you know very well.”

So, jesting lightly, and with a breeze that sufficed just to fill the great sails of the yacht, we glided along until we had explored the recesses of Middle harbour,--a s.p.a.cious inlet winding amid the thick growing semi-tropical forest which clothed the slopes of the bays and promontories to the water's edge.

Here and there were small clearings in which might be discovered a tent or cabin, just sufficient for the needs of a couple of bachelors or a hermit, who here desired to live during his holiday amid this ”boundless contiguity of shade”--”The world forgetting, and the world forgot.”

”Oh, how lovely!” said Mrs. Percival, as we swept round a point and came suddenly upon a fairy-like nook, a tiny bay with milk-white strand and fantastic sandstone rocks. There was a fenced enclosure around a cabin.

There was a boat, with rude stone pier and boat-house. The owner, in cool garb and broad-leafed sombrero, was seated on a rock reading, and occasionally dabbling his bare feet in the rippling tide. As the yacht glided past in the deep water which came so close to his possessions, he raised his hat to the ladies, and resumed his studies.

”What a picture of peace and restful enjoyment!” said Mrs. Craven. ”How I envy men who can seclude themselves like this within an hour's sail from a city! Now, people are so fond of generalising about colonists, and how wrong they are! They always describe them as wildly energetic and restless people, perpetually rus.h.i.+ng about in search of gain or gold.”

”That's Thorndale,” said one of the younger guests. ”He works hard enough at his business when he is about it, but his notion of enjoyment is to come here on a Sat.u.r.day with only a boat-keeper, to fish, and read, and smoke till Monday morning, when he goes back to his law and his office.”

”Sensible fellow!” said the colonel. ”There's nothing like tent life to recruit a man's health after a spell of official work. We used to manage that in India, when we couldn't go all the way to the hills, by forming small encampments of a dozen or twenty fellows, having a mess-house in common, and living in tents or huts separately when we were not hunting or shooting. Splendid life while it lasted! Sent us back twice the men we were, when we left the lines!”

We anch.o.r.ed for lunch in one of the fairy nooks of which that enchanted region is so lavish. There was tea for the ladies and something presumably stronger for the seniors. We had mirth and pleasantries, spoken and acted--all went merrily in that charmed suns.h.i.+ne and beneath the shadowy sea-woods. We had songs--”A mellow voice Fitz Eustace had”--that is, one of the young fellows, native and to the manner born, lifted up his tuneful pipe and made us all laugh, the air he sang being certainly not ”wild and sad,”--the reverse, indeed.

”Now, is not this an ideal picnic,--a day rescued from that terrible fiend Ennui, that haunts us all?” cried Miss Vavasour. ”I might truthfully, perhaps, except myself, who am frivolous, and therefore easily amused--but of course it sounds well to complain and be mysterious. But, really, this is life indeed! The climate makes up for any little deficiency. I shall positively go home and arrange my affairs, make sure of my allowance being paid quarterly, then take a cottage near Miranda, on that sweet North Sh.o.r.e,--isn't that what you call it?--and live happy ever afterwards like a 'maid of Llangollen.'”

”Nothing can be nicer,” said Mrs. Neuchamp. ”We'll all three live here in the summer, within reach of the sea-breeze. In June you must come up and stay with me at Rainbar; then you will know what the glory of winter in our Riverina is like.”

The breeze freshened as we glided swiftly on our homeward course. We had expended most of the daylight before we left our fairy bower. Sunset banners flared o'er the western horizon. ”White and golden-crimson, blue,” fading imperceptibly into the paler tones, and swift-appearing shades which veil the couch of the day G.o.d. The stars tremulously gleamed at first timidly, then brightly scintillating in pure and cl.u.s.tered radiance. Our merry converse had gradually lessened, then ceased and died away. All seemed impressed by the solemnity of the hour--the hush of sea and land--the s.h.i.+mmering phosph.o.r.escent sparkle of the silver-seeming plain over which we swept all swift and silently.

Then the lights of the city, brilliant, profuse, widely scattered as in a lower firmament!

Miss Vavasour sat with Miranda's hand in hers. ”How lovely to live in an hour like this, and yet it is like this with such surroundings that I should like to die.”

”Hus.h.!.+” said Miranda, ”we must all die when G.o.d wills it. It is not good to talk so, my dear.”

During the next week our good friends and fellow-pa.s.sengers of the _Florentia_ were to leave us on their return voyage. We arranged to meet as often as we could manage the leisure, and, as it happened, there was to be a ball at Government House--one of the great functions of the season, which, it was decided, would be an appropriate conclusion to our comrades.h.i.+p. Mr. and Mrs. Neuchamp were going back to their station, Captain Carryall was under sailing orders, and our friends the Colonel and Mrs. Percival were leaving for India and ”going foreign” generally.

Miranda was not eager to attend the extremely grand, and, as far as she was concerned, strange entertainment. But the whole party were most anxious for her to make her appearance in public--at least on that occasion. Partly from natural curiosity, partly on account of my wishes, and my sisters' and Mrs. Neuchamp's strong persuasion, she consented--pleading, however, to be relieved from all anxiety on the score of her dress.

”Oh! we'll take that responsibility,” said Elinor. ”Antonia Neuchamp is generally admitted to dress in perfect taste. We'll compose a becoming ball-dress amongst us or die--something simple and yet not wholly out of the fas.h.i.+on, and becoming to Miranda's style of beauty.”

”I'm afraid you'll make me vain,” she answered, smiling. ”What will you do if I spend all Hilary's money on dress? However, it must be a lovely sight. I have read of b.a.l.l.s and grand entertainments, of course, and when I was a girl longed to be able to take part in them. Now that I am married,” and here she gazed at me with those tender, truthful eyes, ”I seem not to care for mere pleasure. It leads to nothing, you know.”

”You are going to be a pattern wife, Miranda, I see,” said Mariana, my elder sister. ”You must not spoil Hilary, you know. He will think he is the only man in the world.”

”And is he not for me?” she asked, eagerly. Then blus.h.i.+ng at the quick betrayal of her inmost heart, she added, ”Should it not be so? Are civilised people in a great city anxious to attract admiration even after they are married?”