"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 partnership 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 friendships. 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 friendship. 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-fashioned 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.

"Well, Captain Charley," she said, making as though she would have embraced the skipper, "what do you mean by being so long away? We began to think that you were lost--that the _Florentia_ had run on a reef--all sorts of things--been cut off by the islanders, perhaps. But now you _are_ back with all sorts of island stories to tell dad, and a few curios for me. And you are Mrs. Telfer! Papa has told me all about you--his latest admiration, evidently. But you mustn't get melancholy when he deserts you; he is a pa.s.sionate adorer while it lasts, but is always carried away by the next fresh face, generally a complete contrast to the last. I am sure we shall be great friends. I used to dance with your husband when we were children. Do you remember that party at Mrs. Morton's? You have grown considerably since then, and so handsome, too, I suppose I may say--now we are all married--no wonder Miranda fell in love with you. You're to call me Antonia, my dear; and now come upstairs, and I'll show you your rooms which I have been getting ready all the morning. Papa and Ernest will be here in a few minutes."

"Mrs. Neuchamp evidently takes after her father," I said, "who can say more kind things in fewer minutes than any one I ever knew--and do them, too, which is more to the purpose. I am so glad that Miranda has had the chance of making her acquaintance before she sees many other people."

"She is a dear, good, unselfish girl," said the captain, "and was always the same from a child, when she used to sit on my knee in this very verandah, and get me to tell her the names of the ships. I never saw a child so thoughtful for other people, always wondering what she could do for them; she is just the same to this day. She will be an invaluable friend for our Miranda, I foresee. She can give her all sorts of hints about housekeeping, and I've no doubt one or two about dress and the minor society matters. Not that Miranda wants much teaching in that or any other way. Nature made her a lady, and gave her the look of a sea princess, and nothing could alter her."

"Did you ever hear of a handsome young woman being spoiled by flattery, captain?" I said. "I don't want to antic.i.p.ate such a disaster, but it strikes me that if you are all going to be so very complimentary, I shall have to go on the other tack to keep the compa.s.s level."

"There are dispositions that flattery falls harmless from," said the captain solemnly; "there are women that cannot be spoiled,--not so many, perhaps, but you have got one of them, Antonia is another. They will make a good pair, and I'll back them to do their duty and keep a straight course, fair weather or foul, against any two, married or single, that I ever saw, and I've seen a good many women in my time. But now we had better be ready for dinner, for old Paul and Mr. Neuchamp will be here directly."

They were not long in making their appearance, and a very merry dinner it was. Mr. Frankston wanted to hear all about the islands, and Mrs.

Neuchamp was much interested in Captain Hayston, and thought he resembled one of the buccaneers of the Spanish Main, for whom she had a sentimental admiration in her girlhood.

"What a pity that all the romantic and picturesque people should be so wicked!" she asked. "How is it, and what law of nature can it be that arranges that so many good and worthy people are so deadly uninteresting?"

"Antonia is not quite in earnest, my dear Mrs. Telfer!" said Mr.

Neuchamp, remarking Miranda's wondering look; "she knows well that it is more difficult to live up to a high ideal than to fall below it. There is a false glamour about men like Hayston, I admit, by which people who are swayed by feeling rather than reason are often attracted."

"I am afraid that Captain Hayston was a wicked man," said Miranda, "though I can't get Hilary to tell me much about him. However, there were very different accounts, some describing him as being generous and heroic, and others as cruel and unprincipled."

"Whatever he was, there was no doubt about his being a sailor every inch of him," said Captain Charley. "I saw him handle his ship in a gale of wind through a dangerous channel, and I never forgot it."

"I suppose he had his faults like the rest of us," said Mr. Frankston, who did not seem inclined to pursue the subject. "Never mind, when Frankston, Telfer, and Co. get the control of the South Sea Island trade, there won't be any room for dashing filibusters, will there, Charley?"

"I hope not; his day is over," said the captain. "I am sorry for him, too, for he was one of the grandest men and finest seamen G.o.d Almighty ever permitted to sail upon His ocean. Under a different star he might have been an ornament to the service and an honour to his country."

After dinner we all sat out on the broad verandah, where we lighted our cigars, and enjoyed the view over the sleeping waters of the bay. It was a glorious night, undimmed by mist or cloud. The harbour lights flamed brightly, anear and afar, while steamers pa.s.sing to the different points of the endless harbourage lighted up the glittering plain with their variegated lamps, as if an operatic effect were intended.

"What a wondrous sight!" said Miranda. "It certainly is a scene of enchantment, though it loses some of its beauty in my eyes from being so restless and exciting. There is no solitude; all is motion and effort, as is the city by day. Our sea-view is as still and silent as if our island had just been discovered. It lends an air of solemnity to the night which this brilliant, many-coloured vision seems to want."

"Antonia and I enjoy this sort of thing thoroughly," said Mr. Neuchamp; "our country is hot and dry as the summer comes on, and the glare is something to remember. But I must say I prefer the winter of the interior. The nights are heavenly, the mid-day warm without being oppressive, and the mornings are delightfully cool and bracing."

"As weather it is as nearly perfect as it can be," a.s.sented Mrs.

Neuchamp, backing up her husband. "Then the rides and drives on the firm sandy turf and the delightful natural roads! It's nice to think you can drive thirty or forty miles in any direction without going off your own run. Miranda must come and stay with me for a month or two when you get settled, Mr. Telfer. We must see if she can't be persuaded to leave the seaside for a while."

"We'll make up a party," said Mr. Frankston; "it's a long time since I have seen any station life. I had half a mind to try squatting once myself. But I'm like Miranda--I don't sleep well unless I can hear the surge in the night; but for a month or two, in May or June, it would be great fun, and do us all good, I expect."

"Yes, my dear dad," said his daughter, patting his shoulder, "think of the riding and driving. You're not too old to ride, you know. I'll lend you Osmond--he's my horse now, and he's a pearl of hackneys. I'll ride out with you, and Ernest can take Miranda and Courtenay in the four-in-hand drag."

"Well, that's a bargain, my dear!" said her father. "When the summer is over and the autumn has nearly come to an end, and the nights and mornings are growing fresh and crisp, that's the time to see the interior at its best. I haven't forgotten the feel of a bush-morning at sunrise; there's something very exhilarating about it."

"Is there not?" replied Mrs. Neuchamp, "'as you see the vision splendid, of the sunlit plains extended,' an ocean of verdure. You trace the river by the heavy timber on its banks, and the slowly-rising mists along its course. Then the sun, a crimson and gold shield against the cloudless azure, the cattle low in the great river meadows, you hear the crack of a stockwhip as the horses come galloping in like a regiment of cavalry, and the day has begun. It seems like a new world awakening to life."

"I know a young woman," said her husband, "whose 'inward eye' by no means made 'the bliss of solitude' when she first went into the bush."

"That was because I was newly married--torn away from my childhood's home, and all that," laughed his wife. "Besides, you used to stay away unconscionably long sometimes; now everything looks different. You will have to pa.s.s through that stage, my dear Miranda. So prepare yourself."

"I am sure Hilary will never stay away from our home unless he is obliged; and then I must sew and sing till he comes back, like my countrywomen at Norfolk Island and Pitcairn when their men are at sea."