‘Indeed, your Grace,’ said the girl, ‘I don’t think we could have had a happier return to Hexham short of the dear old place being given back to us. It is quite a fairy tale, and Mr. and Mrs. Banneret are the angels of the story.’
‘I feel ready to believe it, my dear Corisande, and I hope when you come to Dorlingham with your new friends to hear all about it. I trust that Lady Hexham, whom I must see before I go, is quite well? But these good folks have nearly finished cheering, so I must begin my speech.’
‘He had always,’ his Grace said, ‘been in sincere sympathy with those daring adventurers who, following in the wake of Drake and Raleigh, Frobisher and Oxenham, had done so much for the glory and expansion of England. His friend’s grandfather, finding the limits of our island home [371] ]insufficient, had sailed away in his own galley, a modern Viking, across the Pacific Ocean, to the wider, unshared, half-unknown lands under the Southern Cross, so late discovered, so rich in promise. A voyager over uncharted seas, amid hostile tribes, he had faced dangers, had encountered strange adventures, upon which he would not at present dwell. It would suffice to say that he found there, what he went so far to seek—a noble appanage to the Empire. (Cheers.) A land where millions of British-born and British-descended people were now living in peace, in comfort, and comparative affluence, under conditions such as Englishmen had always demanded for themselves and their families: conditions of equal laws, of well-paid industries—in circumstances, too, giving hope of a still more prosperous future. Their host, after securing an auriferous property of exceptional richness, had decided to come “home,” as Australians wherever settled still called Old England, in order to invest a portion of his capital in the purchase of an English estate. Such returning colonists, he had always held, were of the greatest possible advantage to the mother-country—not to one class alone, but to all classes—by the employment of labour, the circulation of capital, and, possibly, by the introduction of new ideas. Men like their host, representative of Newer Englands and Greater Britains beyond the seas, had helped to build great cities and add vast tracts of fertile land to her ancient sovereignty—to her newly consolidated Empire. They increased year by year the volume of her [372] ]trade and commerce, so world-wide and far-stretching, the foundation on which so much of England’s “might, majesty, and dominion” rested.
‘They might judge by what they had seen and enjoyed to-day, of what value to the old country men like their worthy host were likely to be. He would not weary them. He was not a man of words, but his friends knew that what he said, he meant. His heart was in the toast which he gave them; there was no need to ask them to drink it with all the honours—their worthy host and hostess, with their amiable family and friends’ (here he looked paternally at Corisande), ‘and long life to them, to enjoy what they have so honourably gained, so liberally used.’
Arnold Banneret stood up in his place and faced the great assemblage. He looked around for a few seconds, permitting the applause which had followed the Duke’s peroration to die down. He met his wife’s gaze, half-proud, half-overcome by mingled feelings. He read the expression on her countenance, with the tear which dimmed her eye but did not fall. He knew that she was recalling the days of hard endeavour—the doubts at times, almost the despair, which had clouded early days in their chequered life, and now as he stood there, with plaudits resounding in his honour, his heart swelled high with natural pride and satisfaction.
‘My Lord Duke, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘it would be insincere for me to deny that I feel intensely the compliment, I may say the honour, [373] ]paid me by his Grace and this distinguished and representative assemblage.
‘That the work is hard, the privations severe, in the pioneer’s life may not be denied; but the difficulties, though grave, are not greater than thousands of Britons have been willing to encounter in the pursuit of fame and fortune, and, thank God! are still willing for such prizes to risk all that men hold dear. In the mysterious lottery of life there is no denying the presence of an element known as Chance, defying all calculation, and turning the balance to success or failure. “The race,” as they all knew, “was not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.” They had the warrant of Holy Writ for that. In his own experience he had seen it often exemplified. Of his comrades, one of the boldest explorers, one of the most capable pioneers of the Great West Australian desert, survived but to fall a victim in later years to the arrow of a Nigerian savage; another not less dauntless, and, in time of need, patient of hunger, thirst, and all but the direst extremity of famine, a master of woodcraft—ever tireless, cheerful, and inventive, lay beneath South African sands. But why dwell on failure or disaster—on history as old as humanity? He, by God’s grace, had not failed, but stood there to-day—not proud, not vainglorious, but grateful to the bottom of his heart for that Divine mercy which had shielded him in danger and distress, in the dreary days when he lay under the shadow of death. And, next to the interposition of Divine Providence, was he indebted to the lady who sat by Sir Piers [374] ]Hazelwood, his dear, constant, faithful wife, who had nursed him in sickness, cheered him in misfortune, and been bravest and most steadfast in the darkest hour before dawn. (Continuous cheering.) He would say, in conclusion, that he recognised the exceptional good fortune which had come to him, less for his personal advantage, than for the power it gave of benefiting his fellow-creatures, and relieving those less fortunately circumstanced.’ (Tremendous cheering.)
Other toasts were given—other speeches made. Due honour was paid to Lady Hexham, by personal friends and acquaintances of the family, many of whom had come far to greet her. She was visibly affected, and though actuated naturally by conflicting feelings, declared to Mrs. Banneret that she never expected to feel so happy again. As for Hermione and Vanda, they kept assuring their mother that they quite realised all ‘the claims of long descent,’ and couldn’t think of letting Corisande go back to Bruges. Mrs. Banneret was quite willing to adopt her; Eric and Reggie followed suit; and so, with more happy nonsense, ‘God save the King’ was struck up by the much-enduring band, and the great assemblage commenced to disperse, homewardly intent.
But the summer day in the Northern Isles is long—the twilight extends far into the night. There was a moon also; and the soft, warm mellow eve lingered, hour after hour, till the last departing revellers were safely lighted on their path. There was universal consensus of opinion—genuinely, if [375] ]variously, in some cases incongruously, expressed—that it was many a year since there had been the like of it at Hexham Hall; it was almost too good to be true that there would be another such meeting next year. ‘Well, God bless Squire Banneret, anyhow!’ was the benediction which mostly concluded the argument and assertions. The summer day was spent, indeed the lingering twilight had long invaded the scene, when the rearguard of the great host of guests and revellers moved homeward, echoing in various forms of speech the common sentiment of grateful appreciation. The drags and carriages, phaetons and dog-carts, had rolled, and rattled, and rumbled along the high roads and lanes hours before, but still the rural visitors, chiefly on foot, thronged the pathways. Amid the confused murmur of voices the dominant note of assent was the declaration that the county had never seen such a treat before, so thoroughly carried out in every detail, and that if, as was promised, such an entertainment would be annual, the tenants and humbler neighbours would have indeed cause to bless the day when the Bannerets came among them.
As for the families, as represented by Lady Hexham, the Honourable Corisande and her brothers, together with Mr. and Mrs. Banneret, with their sons and daughters, there could not have been found a more harmonious rapprochement of the old order and the new. The girls were frankly, genuinely fond of one another by this time, a feeling which threatened to extend beyond the division of sex,—the Honourable [376] ]Falkland, who had recently been in command of a torpedo-destroyer, paying rather marked attention to Hermione, and Miss Corisande inclining to argumentative discussions with Reggie upon the relative advantages, or otherwise, of old and new countries. Nothing had advanced beyond the ordinary limits of friendliness; yet there were signs and tokens, recognised by keen observers, that such positions were, under favourable circumstances, capable of being permanently strengthened.