That night, as the Effinghams sat around their table, an unconscious feeling of thankfulness swelled each heart. The parents saw assurance of a well-provided suitable home for the little troop, the probable disbanding of which had cost such sad forebodings. The sons, strong in the faith of youth, saw a future of adventure, well-rewarded labour, perhaps brilliant success. The girls felt that their lives would not be henceforth deprived of the social intercourse which had once been an ordinary condition of existence.
‘How did you fare at Mr. O’Desmond’s, my son? What kind of an establishment does he keep?’ inquired Mrs. Effingham.
‘You will all be rather astonished,’ answered Wilfred mysteriously. ‘What should you think, Annabel? You are a good hand at guessing.’
‘Let me think. He is very aristocratic and dignified, yet he might live in a hut. Men are so independent of rooms or houses, almost of looking-glasses. Now a woman in a poky little place always shows it in her dress. I should say he lives in a comfortable cottage, and has everything very complete.’
‘And you would be right. We shall have to mind our manners and dinners when he comes again. He lives like a club bachelor, and is as well lodged as—let us say—a land steward on an absentee nobleman’s estate.’
‘You must be romancing, Wilfred,’ said Beatrice. ‘Where could he get the luxuries that such a great man as you have described could procure? What a wonderful difference a few thousand miles makes! We think ourselves not so much worse, essentially, than we were in England; but we must be deteriorating.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense, my dear Beatrice,’ said Rosamond. ‘Is it not a little vulgar to attach so much weight to externals? As long as we are doing our duty, why should there be any deterioration? It will be our own fault if we adopt a lower level of manners.’
‘Oh, but how can any one expect to be the same in colonial society?’ exclaimed Annabel. ‘See how insignificant even the “best people” are out here. Why, I was reading yesterday about a “country baronet,” and even a “well-meaning, unfashionable countess,” being looked down upon—positively laughed at—in England. Now think what tremendous potentates they would be out here! I’m sure that proves what I say.’
‘Your propositions and proofs are worthy of one another, my dear,’ said Wilfred. ‘But as to society, I shan’t be sorry when more of our neighbours call.’
‘Now that the house is fit to receive them I shall be pleased, my dear son, to see the people of the land. I am sure I hope there are some nice ones.’