“I hope you never will go to that dreadful new country,” said Mrs. Stamford, half-tearfully. “Didn’t you read that shocking account of the poor fellow who died of thirst by the telegraph line the other day, besides that nice young Belford who was killed by the blacks?”
“Accidents will happen,” said Hubert. “The British Empire wouldn’t be what it is, if every mother kept her boy at home so that she could see him, while she knitted his warm socks. Windāhgil is paying fairly now, but there’s no fortune to be made here, is there, governor?”
“I didn’t know that you were growing discontented with your lot, my boy,” said the father, looking admiringly at his first-born; “but there’s time enough to think about all that. I’ll see when we are all settled at home again. There goes the bell; we must take our places. God bless you, my boy!”
The following morning found the Stamford family comfortably deposited in one of the hotels which in Sydney combine proximity to the sea with perfect accessibility from all city centres. Bath and breakfast had removed all traces of fatigue or travelling discomfort. Laura, with her sister, was standing at a window which overlooked the sea, wild with delight at the unaccustomed glory of the ocean.
“Oh! what a lovely, lovely sight!” cried Linda. “Look at that glorious bay, with those white-winged boats flying across it like sea-gulls—it’s an old simile, I know, but it always sounds nice. Look at the rocks and promontories, beaches and islands! And there, a great ocean liner is moving majestically along, as if she was going to steam up to the verandah. Wouldn’t it be nice if she did! I wonder what the people would be like? Oh! I shall expire with joy and wonder if I stay here much longer.”
“Then put on your bonnet, and come to George Street with me,” said Mrs. Stamford. “I want to do a little quiet shopping before lunch. Laura can stay with her father. He is going to take her to see the Grandisons.”
“Oh! how nice; I haven’t seen a real shop,” said Linda, “like Palmer’s and David Bowen’s, you know, since I was a little girl. That will tone the excitement down a little, or give it a new direction. Oh, I do feel so happy! Do you think it will last, mother? It can’t be any better in England—or Fairyland. The world does not offer anything superior to my present feeling of perfect—yes, perfect happiness. Don’t let us go to the opera for a week yet, till I have had time to subside. I feel like a glass of champagne; I should effervesce over. La! la, la, la! la, la, la! la, la!” And here the excited girl waltzed into her bed-room to the tune of “The Venetia.”
When Mrs. Stamford and her youngest daughter departed on their shopping expedition, the latter declaring that she felt the greatest difficulty in restraining herself from bursting into song from pure gladsomeness of heart, her father betook himself in a cab with Laura to Mr. Grandison’s house, where he proposed to leave her with her cousin Josie till his return in the evening. Laura was little less inwardly delighted with her general surroundings than Linda, but not being so highly demonstrative, she forbore to testify her pleasure by bodily movement. Yet was her heart filled with innocent joy and honest admiration as she surveyed the unwonted scene.
As their carriage wound slowly up one of the steep ascents by which, on leaving the city proper, the more fashionable suburbs are reached, her dark eyes sparkled and her fair cheek glowed while she pointed out the fresh combination of sea and shore.
“Oh, father!” she said, “when you look on this, does it not seem strange that any one should choose to live away from the sea? I should spend half my time on the beach! What changeful beauty! What new wonders arise, even from this tiny outlook! Nothing can be more delicious than this harbour, with gardens and lawns down to the very ends of the promontories. The dear little bays too, like fairy pictures, with smooth shores, and a big rock with an archway here and there. And oh! the Heads! Grand and majestic, are they not?—frowning above the restless deep like eternal ocean portals. I can see billows, I declare. How vast and awe-striking! I am really thankful we haven’t been to Sydney all these bad seasons. A day like this is worth a year of common life.”