Lady Augusta became excited. “Where’s he gone?” she wildly asked.
“Somewhere by rail, I think, my lady. He said, as he drank his coffee, that he hoped our heads wouldn’t ache till he saw us again. Cook and me couldn’t think what he meant, my lady.”
My lady divined only too well. She gave a prolonged series of shrieks, jumped out of bed, flung on any clothes that came uppermost, and started in pursuit of him, to the intense wonder of Martha, and to the astonishment of Helstonleigh, as she flew wildly through the streets to the station. The sight of Hamish at a carriage-door guided her to her runagate son.
She sprang into the carriage—it was well, I say, that it was empty!—and overwhelmed him with a torrent of reproaches, all the while kissing and hugging him. Not two minutes could be given to their farewell, for the time was up, and Lady Augusta had to descend again, weeping bitterly.
“Take care of her home, Hamish,” said Roland, putting his head out. “Mother dear, you’ll live to say I have done well, yet. You’ll see me come home, one of these fine days, with a covered waggon after me, bringing the bags of gold.” Poor Roland!
The train steamed off, and Lady Augusta, to the discomfiture of Hamish, and the admiration of the porters and station boys, set off at full speed after it, wringing her hands, and tearing her hair, and sobbing and shrieking out that “She’d go—she’d go with it! that she should never see her darling boy again!” With some difficulty Hamish soothed her down to tolerable calmness, and put her into a fly.
They were scarcely beyond the station when she suddenly bent forward to Hamish, who sat on the seat opposite to her, and seized his hands. “Is it true that every one gets rich who goes to Port Natal?”
The question was a poser for sunny Hamish. He liked to scatter flowers in his path, rather than thorns. How could he tell that grieving woman, that Roland—careless, lazy, improvident Roland—would be almost sure to return in a worse plight than he had gone? “I have heard of people doing well at Port Natal,” he answered; “and Roland is young and strong, and has years before him.”
“I cannot think how so much money can be made,” continued my lady, beginning to dry her tears. “There are no gold fields there, are there?”
“I think not,” said Hamish.