“Genuine holly: I cut it myself,” said Ronald, and gave me as good a cudgel as a man could wish for in a row.
The formality of these gifts, and the waiting figure of the drover, told me loudly that I must be gone. I dropped on one knee and bade farewell to the aunt, kissing her hand. I did the like—but with how different a passion!—to her niece; as for the boy, I took him to my arms and embraced him with a cordiality that seemed to strike him speechless. “Farewell!” and “Farewell!” I said. “I shall never forget my friends. Keep me sometimes in memory. Farewell!” With that I turned my back and began to walk away; and had scarce done so, when I heard the door in the high wall close behind me. Of course this was the aunt’s doing; and of course, if I know anything of human character, she would not let me go without some tart expressions. I declare, even if I had heard them, I should not have minded in the least, for I was quite persuaded that, whatever admirers I might be leaving behind me in Swanston Cottage, the aunt was not the least sincere.
CHAPTER X
THE DROVERS
It took me a little effort to come abreast of my new companion; for though he walked with an ugly roll and no great appearance of speed, he could cover the ground at a good rate when he wanted to. Each looked at the other: I with natural curiosity, he with a great appearance of distaste. I have heard since that his heart was entirely set against me; he had seen me kneel to the ladies, and diagnosed me for a “gesterin’ eediot.”
“So, ye’re for England, are ye?” said he.
I told him yes.
“Weel, there’s waur places, I believe,” was his reply; and he relapsed into a silence which was not broken during a quarter of an hour of steady walking.