The morning she was well enough to leave the hut they carried her into the sunlight as tenderly as if she were a delicate flower, and poured the strangest offerings in her tiny lap—picture books, dolls, mechanical monkeys, gold chains, rings ten sizes too large for her, and even seven-bladed knives and razors.
The child received this adoration with a frank fearlessness which filled her worshipers with delight. She was a light-hearted child, with a smile and a laugh for one and all; and nothing seemed to frighten her or to astonish her.
In this superb air, amidst these surroundings, she grew with astonishing rapidity and strength. She was not only a strong child, but a pretty one, and she promised to become exceedingly beautiful. Her hair was of that dark red which is described as auburn, but with touches of a lighter gold which shone in the sunlight as brightly as the dust which the diggers often poured into her hands. Her eyes were of a very dark brown, and wonderfully expressive; they were generally brimming over with merriment, but at times they grew dreamy and thoughtful, and then they seemed almost as black as the long lashes which shaded them; her mouth was rather large, but as expressive as her eyes—so expressive, that one of the men declared that he could always tell what Ralda was going to say before she uttered a word. She would have had the exquisite complexion which goes with hair of her color, but the sun had browned her cheek, and sown a plentiful crop of freckles upon her dainty nose and level brow.
When she grew old enough to ride, Varley Howard broke in a wild pony for her; the best saddle and habit that Melbourne could produce were procured, and in company with Varley or one or two of the diggers she rode about the beautiful country which surrounded the camp.
She took to it very readily, and acquired a seat and a confidence which entitled her to the reputation of the most fearless woman rider in the district. She could not only ride well, but walk long distances, swim across the Wally River—no small feat for a young girl—climb trees, and shoot with a precision scarcely surpassed by Varley himself.
No wonder that Three Star was proud of the girl, and worshiped her as a tribe of aborigines worship their queen! She went about the camp with perfect freedom, and when she was present, the roughest and rowdiest lowered their voices and selected their language. One day the ruined baronet raised his hat when he met her, and the rest of the diggers, quick to take a hint, afterward followed suit. As she grew out of the “all legs and wings” period of existence into young womanhood, they added “Miss” to “Ralda,” and some of the better bred of them went so far as to call her “Miss Howard;” but this was considered rather too high-toned for use among themselves, though any stranger would have been a bold man, and would very probably have paid for his temerity with his life, who should have failed to give her the full prefix and name.
Varley Howard watched the growth and development of his ward with great interest and pride. Her physical training afforded him profound satisfaction, but her mental education caused him some little anxiety. Among the motley crew at Three Star was an old school-master. He was a shaky and broken-down individual, whose chief occupation at the camp was the writing of letters for the other men, the keeping of Dan MacGrath’s accounts, and the reading aloud to any digger who might be sick and need amusing. Varley engaged this man to teach Esmeralda, and it must be admitted that The Penman, as he was called by the camp, had an exceedingly rough time of it.
Esmeralda had a hatred of reading and writing and arithmetic. It was torture to her to sit still for longer than five minutes; and at first she blandly but firmly refused to take advantage of The Penman’s instruction, and the poor old man, who was as fond of her as the rest of the camp, was almost in tears of despair.
He appealed to Varley.
“She’s the sweetest girl, Mr. Howard,” he said, with a stiff little bow which remained to him from his old scholastic days—“the sweetest and most amiable girl you could possibly find, and she has a remarkable capacity for acquiring knowledge; indeed, she has an extraordinary quick and retentive mind. It would be easy enough to teach her anything, Mr. Howard, if one could only induce her to apply herself for even a short time each day. But it is almost impossible to do so! She will jump up after we have been at work five minutes, and run out of the room and leave me with the book before me. Sometimes she will keep away altogether, and hide in the woods, or ride off on that pony of hers. Yesterday she—she hit me over the head with the grammar, and declared that if she couldn’t talk without that rubbish she wouldn’t speak again. I don’t tell you this in a spirit of complaint, Mr. Howard, but—er—simply that you may understand why Miss Esmeralda makes such slow progress, and that you may not be dissatisfied with me.”