And silently they looked on him
As on a lion bound.
He has just that sort of air—very picturesque, of course—for he is the handsomest man I ever saw; don’t you think so, Rosamond? I suppose he can read and write? What a cruel shame to have brought him up like that? Fancy Selden reared in such a way, mamma?’
‘I can hardly fancy such a thing, my dear imaginative child,’ said the mother. ‘But how thankful we ought to be that we have been able to keep dear Selden at school, even in this trying time.’
Mr. Effingham, who attributed the change which had taken place in Hubert Warleigh’s habits in some measure to his own exhortation, was very pleased and proud. He welcomed the young man into his family circle with warmth, and in every way endeavoured to neutralise the gêne of the position by drawing him out upon topics in which his personal experience told to advantage.
He constrained him to repeat the tale of his exploration, and dwelt with great interest upon his sojourn with the blacks, which, he said, deserved a place in one of Fenimore Cooper’s novels.
Annabel wanted to know whether there were any young men in the tribe who at all resembled Uncas. But Hubert had never heard of Chingachgook or of his heroic son. Magua and Hawkeye were as unknown to his unfurnished mind as the personages of the Nibelungen-Lied. So they were compelled to avoid quotations in their conversation, and only to use the cheapest form of English which is made. It was a matter of regret to these kind-hearted people when they made any allusion which they perceived to be as the word of an unknown tongue to the stranger within their gates. His half-puzzled, half-pained look was piteous to see. It was like that of some dumb creature struggling for speech, or blindly feeling for a half-familiar object.
To the artless benevolence of youth it would have been interesting to remedy the deficiencies of a nature originally rich and receptive, but void and barren from lack of ordinary culture. Mrs. Effingham, however, compelled to regard things from a matron’s point of view, was not sorry to think that this picturesque, neglected orphan would in a few days quit their abode for a long journey.
As the time drew near, and preparations were proceeded with, a great sadness commenced to overspread The Chase. Wilfred had never been absent for any lengthened period before, nor Guy for more than a week under any pretence whatever. He was frantic with delight at the change of plan.
‘I’m so glad that “Gyp” Warleigh is going with us, even if he hadn’t found this new district. Dick says he’s the best bushman in the country, and can go straight through a scrub and come out right the other side, without sun or compass or anything, just like a blackfellow. You see what a place I’ll have across the mountains after a year or two.’