How sorry we were when our friends left for a long sojourn in England, the beautiful home broken up, the house and lovely garden left to strangers! I felt more lonely than ever, after being nearly a year with such a family, the mother like an elder sister, the children so companionable. James and Maria made me pay them a visit at their island home, which brightened me considerably. It was impossible to be low-spirited there, for he was full of fun, and her housekeeping was a constant source of amusement to us all. When anything was lost, she would say, “Have you looked on the floor?” On one occasion, when some friend sent them a basket of small aloes for the garden, she thought they were Australian artichokes, and told their convict servant to prepare them for dinner. She was a great favourite with every one, kind-hearted and generous. James used to say “inconveniently generous sometimes.” I remember an occasion when this was the case. A lady she knew, who had seen better days, called on her in great distress; she had been promised an appointment, and had been given several articles of clothing, requisite to make her presentable to her employer in a respectable manner, but, sad to say, her boots were terribly worn. “Why, Mrs. ——, mine will fit you, so you need not cry about that.” At once a pair was sent for, and that little difficulty arranged, forgetting she was going out that afternoon with James and me. What a walk we had! He kept asking, “Why she allowed her dress to sweep the roads? Look at Miss L——, she holds hers up, why don’t you?” “You know, James, it tires me.” “Well, I will hold it up for you.” “How absurd that will look!” “Well, I shall go on first, for the dust is covering all of us.” I whispered, “Tell him.” “I dare not; he will be so vexed; he has not forgotten about the coat.” The coat meant that he had, at her urgent request, consented to his wife’s giving away some worn clothes of his to one of her numerous pensioners, and she in her impulsive way had given away a nearly new coat. We arrived at our destination without discovery, but unfortunately when leaving, one of our friend’s daughters remarked, “You have forgotten to change your shoes, Mrs. ——” He looked, and we were no sooner outside the house than I told him. He was such a kind-hearted man, so did not say much, but suggested that “she should always keep a pair in reserve,” and telling me “he would never be surprised to find his wardrobe consisted only of the clothes he had on.”
One evening James and I were sitting in the verandah enjoying the cool sea breeze after a fearful hot wind all day. Maria was playing and singing in the drawing-room, when between one of her songs we heard the sound of screaming from the opposite shore; we listened, but it ceased, so Maria continued her music. As it was growing late and the moon setting, we thought of retiring, when the sound of a boat approaching the island—a very unusual and dangerous proceeding at that hour—roused James, and seeing only a woman in the boat, he left us and went down to the wharf near his cottage. The constable had seen the boat, and was speaking to the occupant, warning her not to come nearer. “What do you want at this hour of the night?” asked my friend. “Oh, sir,” answered a girlish voice, “do, for God’s sake, come with me to the other side, or murder will be done.” Here sobs stopped her utterance. Addressing the girl, my friend asked, “Was it you I heard screaming some time ago?” “Yes.” Turning to the constable, “Blake, it’s all right; I will go.” “Thank you, sir,” said the girl. He ran back and told us he would not be back for an hour or two, that Maria and I need not be uneasy. The girl was evidently well accustomed to the use of the sculls, and made rapid way to the opposite shore. By the time they landed the moon had set, and heavy clouds rising from the south rendered the night dark and gloomy. He followed the girl through the scrub, her light frock being the only guide. At last they came to a small slab building, and a young man met the girl. “Where have you been, Sarah?” “To Cockatoo Island for assistance.” “No need for that; what a fool!” “But you told me to go.” “Did I?” James here advanced, asking, “What does all this mean? what dark work has been going on here?” “No dark work, sir, only a man in a fit.” “That’s all nonsense; girls don’t risk a shot for that. Well, I am here, and intend going into the house and seeing for myself, so lead the way at once.” After a few whispered words with the girl, the young fellow said, “Go in, Sarah, and see how he is now.” In a few minutes she returned, saying, “I think he is asleep.” James followed his young guide into a room, where, lying on a rough bush bedstead, was a man half dressed. He stood looking down on the recumbent figure, and heard some whispering in another room. Touching the man, he inquired, “Are you awake?” “Who are you? You have come too late,” and a pair of keen gray eyes were raised to his face. “Oh! I am a doctor.” “Are you? what do you want here?” “I heard that some one was ill.” “Did you?” with a frown, and looking towards the girl. “That’s what you say, is it? then I am well now and out of danger.” The girl and young man stood like sentinels, watching. “Can I help you in any way?” asked my friend abruptly. “I suppose I have been brought out at this hour for a purpose.” “Yes, we three agreed it would be better to have a witness, but it is all settled without. They have got all they wanted, so will let me rest in peace,” with a heavy sigh, turning round, as if to intimate all was over. As the man evidently did not wish him to remain, James followed the girl and young man out of the room, and when outside said, “I am not at all satisfied with your conduct; who are the others in the hut?” “There is no one.” “That is false; I heard voices. Have you been bought since your sister left? Is that man your father?” “No, brother.” “Why, he is years older than either of you.” Here the girl, who James saw was much cowed and frightened, said, “He is our stepbrother.” James stood considering for a minute, then said, “Well, take me back to the island.” He was about to utter a warning as to the steps he intended to take, but decided it would be imprudent and put them on their guard. The young man said, “I will row you over, sir; Sarah is too done up.” “I am quite agreeable, as long as I get back to Cockatoo Island quickly.” He tried in vain to get the young man into conversation on the way, but a laconic “Yes” or “No” was the extent of his answers. The mystery of that night was never cleared up. My friend tried to find the slab building, but it seemed to have disappeared. The night had been so dark, and the bush so dense, as to preclude any certainty as to the direction taken after leaving the boat. Even if he had succeeded in finding the place, an investigation thirty years ago, with such evidence, would have been difficult to carry through, when the principal in the affair had evidently given in.
Sir William Denison was Governor of New South Wales at this time, and taking great interest in my friend’s work at the island, often visited it. The officers of Her Majesty’s ships found the cottage very pleasant to spend the evenings at, for Maria, like many of her countrywomen, was fascinating, full of life, and fond of society. She could sing and play with expression, and was never put out if half a dozen came in when three were only prepared for; she somehow so managed that you would suppose her resources were inexhaustible. I really think this is a peculiarity of the Irish, as I have known many with the same gift of making the best of everything. It was a strange life for Maria on this island, as there was only one other family to visit there.
CHAPTER XI
My next home was a perfect one in all respects, a comfortable new house at Double Bay, the grounds extending to the beach, and the windows of the principal rooms looking towards the harbour. Again my “lines were cast in pleasant places.” Mr. and Mrs. Frederick had not been long from home; the children were much younger than my former pupils, but, dear little things, the youngest so very quick and affectionate. There were very few houses near us, and we could, and did, wander about the rocks, and spent many hours on the beach at the bottom of the garden. We used to take long walks to gather wildflowers on Belle Vue Hill, at the back of Sir Daniel Cooper’s estate, and as far as Tivoli. There were now many beautiful places at Darling Point, Greenoaks, Mona, Mount Adelaide, and others. Mr. Mort had at Greenoaks a small gallery of charming water-colour pictures. There was also a picture gallery at Mona, chiefly copies in oil from the old masters, which I had the bad taste not to admire, preferring the pictures we had at Hurst. I have always felt what a privilege it was to have Mrs. Frederick as a friend. She was so well read, conscientious, true, and gentle. She had a beautiful voice and excellent taste in music, and having been partially educated on the Continent, could converse on many subjects I had only read of. Unfortunately, being delicate, she was unable to enjoy the surroundings of her beautiful home.
I had a very pretty schoolroom, abundance of books, and quantities of toys amusing and instructive for my children. We occasionally spent Sunday afternoon on the beach, where I taught them simple hymns or composed various tales for their amusement. These children are mothers now, and have reminded me of many of the tales which I had forgotten long ago. I have had many solitary hours since those days; but few sad ones, for memory calls back so much to brighten the present when youth is past. The love and trust of children is a priceless treasure time can never dim or take away. Holidays were a relaxation, and having so many friends, I enjoyed them; but was always glad to return, and agreed with my children in “being pleased when they were over.” They always met me with caresses, declaring “They never wanted any more long holidays without I stayed at home.” While at Hurst I had an invitation from an old friend to a large picnic given by her brother and another squatter visiting Sydney. It was a very grand affair. As it was held at Vaucluse, Mrs. du Moulin called for me en route. Her brother knowing many gentlemen now in Sydney from their stations, there would be no lack of gentlemen.
The then Australian Gunter had carte blanche for providing a recherché luncheon. A German band was engaged, boats provided for those who liked the water, cricket for others, and dancing for all. It was a lovely day in October, and I am certain never out of “Arcadia” did nearly a hundred young people enjoy themselves more. The pretty girls and handsome men made delightful partners, and time passed too quickly.
I had danced until even I was tired, so with my partner rested for a while, when he told me the following story of the discovery of one of the principal Victorian gold-fields. “We had been travelling overland with cattle, and had camped earlier than usual, the heat being intense; the stockmen were resting at a little distance, waiting until the cook had the evening meal ready. My brother and I were lying on the grass talking over the probabilities of making a good sale of our cattle when we reached our destination, both a little down-hearted, as a few days before we had heard several mobs of cattle had been seen on the road bound for the same market.
“We were both smoking, and I with note-book and pencil jotting down probable results of our hoped-for sales, while Donald pulled up tufts of grass. Presently an exclamation made me look at him. The expression of his face alarmed me. I thought he was ill; his pipe had fallen from his fingers, and he held a tuft of grass in his hand. ‘Look, A——, at this.’ ‘At what?’ I was for a second almost as astonished as he had been. ‘Why, it is gold!’ ‘Yes, hush, keep quiet until after supper, when the men are in their tent; we will examine the place.’ Which we did, and found it was one of the richest fields yet discovered. We at once decided for one of us to ride to the nearest town and take out licenses for the party. In less than a month there were thousands of people on the field. We never took a beast away, but sold them all for a very large sum on the spot. Kept our claim, and each man made a small fortune. We invested ours in a large station property, not caring for a gold-digger’s life. Often has it occurred to me since what a little matter gives the turn to fortune’s wheel, for it was the merest chance took us in that direction, as it was only the breaking away of five of our best cattle, and their taking the left instead of the right and shortest road to the place we were bound for.” “I suppose you were much excited by this discovery?” “Yes, but, Miss L——, almost the first feeling that arose in my mind, ‘Is it for good or evil?’ One thing comforted me; I could now give my mother a home suited to her, and whatever happens to me, she will be well provided for.” The band commencing a delightful waltz, we left our shady seat and were soon dancing with the rest. I went into town with my friend and spent a delightful musical evening at her house. Some time after this some friends of Mrs. Woolley’s of Hereford House, who knew me there, invited me to a ball at their house in Wooloomooloo. Mrs. Frederick said, “You must go; I will send you in the carriage, and as Mrs. Joseph has offered you a bed, we will call for you in the morning.” I started, having told the coachman to drive to a house in William Street. When we arrived at this place it was very quiet and dark. I jumped out, saying, “This is the place.” But the coachman, having his doubts, suggested waiting till I was in. When the servant opened the door I began to think I had mistaken the date of the invitation, for there was no sign of a party. A door opened and a gentleman came forward. “I fear I have made a mistake; is this Mrs. Joseph’s?” “No; she lives in Victoria Street.” “They have a ball there to-night?” “Yes; my son has just left for it.” How I blessed the coachman’s forethought in waiting, and how my friends laughed at my blunder when I met them at Victoria Street! The next morning poor Richard, the coachman, could not find the cottage in Rushcutter Bay, where I had spent the night, and had been over an hour in finding me, so it was a chapter of accidents altogether. I met on that occasion our present Agent-General and the beautiful girl he married; and only a few mails ago saw in a paper the death of the lady at whose house the ball took place. Her sister, at whose house I stayed the night, has since become one of our leading women in Sydney society; an Australian, clever, fascinating, and agreeable.
A sad catastrophe occurred at this time which cast a terrible shadow over the beauty of our surroundings and our walks and visits to our beach.