‘Do you not think,’ said Ernest, ‘considering the large amount of cross-country work that a clergyman has to do in Australia, that every gentleman of your profession should practise leaping a little—I mean sufficiently to get over middle rails, and so on? you might be stopped by a low fence.’
‘It may be so; there is force in your argument,’ said the unknown, with a grave sad smile, ‘but I do not care about leaping now, and there is then only one course open, that of taking down the rails. After all there are so many necessary gates, I find that I can generally get about my various duties.’
‘Really,’ persisted Ernest, ‘I hope that you will not think me impertinent, but in a new country like this surely every one ought to train himself to encounter the exigencies of his position, and your seat is so firm that I am sure with a little practice you would soon be able to get over a moderate leap.’
Ernest thought he saw an approach to a smile flit over the thoughtful face of his clerical acquaintance.
‘Who knows?’ he said, holding out his hand; ‘I trust we shall meet again. It may be that we shall be fellow-workers in this good land, where the harvest is plentiful, but the reapers, alas! few. Good-bye.’
Mr. Neuchamp pursued the path indicated, which led him to a substantial country-house, of which the well-kept approaches and trim, yet luxuriant shrubberies told of long and successful occupation. Here he was warmly welcomed, and Osmund promptly delivered to a neat groom.
‘Very glad to meet you in the country,’ said his host, a frank, stout, gray-haired, but vigorous-looking man. ‘What do you think of our district—anything like this on the Lower Darling? I hear you have settled yourself permanently there.’
‘The two districts are about as similar as the West Riding of Yorkshire and the Pampas,’ said Ernest. ‘But Rainbar is a very good fattening country; that is all one can say in its favour just now.’
‘Plenty of room, no diggers, no free selectors,’ replied his host; ‘well, I wish we could say as much here. I am too old to change now; but I think if I was your age again, I should be inclined to move out back; let the Grange, and come back to be comfortable here in my old age. But I think I heard the dinner-bell. Come along.’
Ernest heard it too, and was by no means sorry to comply with the summons. Dinner-bells, with the accompanying refections of civilised man, had been rather out of his line of late. He was introduced to the lady of the house, and her well-dressed, fresh-complexioned, cheerful-looking daughters, the very sight of whom raised the spirits of Mr. Neuchamp several degrees.