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
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Transcriber’s Note
A small number of clear typographical errors (mostly quote marks) have
been corrected.