As for the seniors, they were resting from their labours after the exciting performance which had been successful beyond all expectation. A series of leisurely rambles through the, as yet, untraversed beauty spots of Britain had been considered as an autumnal engagement, in which Lady Hexham consented, after a vain attempt to stem the tide of opposition, as represented by the allied forces of untitled Hexham, to permit her daughter to join. They could not, even she admitted, hope to secure a more wise, experienced chaperon than Mrs. Banneret, not to mention Mr. Banneret, who had been lauded, in his magisterial capacity, for ‘admirable firmness and discretion’ under conditions scarcely differentiated indeed from those of civil war. This being the case, Lady Hexham gracefully assented, remarking that it appeared to her quite time to return to her husband, and the rest of the family, if she did not wish him to think her ashamed of their humble home at Bruges. This view of the case appeared so painful, that Corisande offered to return on the [377] ]spot, but the proposal lapsed in default of a seconder, or general moral support.
On the following day Lady Hexham left for home, previously assuring Mrs. Banneret that she had enjoyed her visit more than she could have possibly imagined, entirely through the kindness of Mrs. Banneret herself, and her family; she never thought that their years of exile could have ended with such a home-coming. It made amends in great measure for the sorrow caused by their ruin, and gave hope for the restoration of the family to its former position. Once it had appeared hopeless, but now, on account of the fortunate sale of the estate, and the unusual liberality of the purchaser, her most kind and generous husband, they had hope of returning to England in a few years, under brighter auspices. She asked her to believe that she was truly grateful, and bade God bless her in the future, and all belonging to her. So the ladies embraced and bade adieu; the one pleased to recognise a warm heart and kindly feelings under an apparently cold manner, and the other ready to uphold Australians as the most warm-hearted, delicate-minded, delightful people on the face of the earth.
. . . . . . . . .
‘All good things must come to an end,’ says the venerable adage, and the Hexham Hall garden party was no exception to the ancient saw. The summer was now at its height, the next change would be a decadent one, after which the leaves would fall, and people begin to talk about autumn winds, declining days, and other depressing [378] ]subjects. Hence it was necessary to arrange for whatever plan of travel the family decided to carry out before winter was upon them, with its over-full programme of dances, dinners, hunting fixtures, and other absolutely necessary functions. The need for travel began to obtrude itself. Young men and maidens, with their attendant parents and guardians (for such indeed, nowadays, is the order in which the migration of families must be described), began to talk of guides, alpenstocks, and other foreign necessaries, the glories of the ascent of the Matterhorn, or the panorama from the Rigi.
However, after a full and exhaustive survey of plans and projects, the decision was practically unanimous in favour of Britain. So much had been dared and done during the present year, that it was agreed not to tempt the chances of foreign travel until a peaceful interval of restful rambles in the ancestral mother-land had made them fully conversant with all the scenes of interest, beauty, and historic fame, with the leading characteristics of which their reading had made them familiar.
The party of travel was to be commanded by Mr. and Mrs. Banneret: efficient, conventional chaperonage being, of course, indispensable. It was many years since the parents had enjoyed the opportunity of a quiet progress through historic scenes, which their general culture fitted them so eminently to enjoy. When they had the leisure, they had been without the pecuniary facilities, without which tourists are necessarily hampered. [379] ]Now they were in possession of both. They left Hexham, therefore, with the intention of enjoying to the fullest extent the fortunate combination, which comes so rarely in this troubled life of ours. The Hexham girls, titled and untitled, numbered three—Hermione, Corisande, and Vanda. Two of these were abbreviated to Corie and Hermie for the greater convenience of intimate friendly converse, Vanda pleading that her name was sufficiently short, and that ‘Van’ sounded rather Dutch. It was resolved to reserve this weighty matter for the test of experience and time.
But little time was wasted after the preliminaries were agreed upon. Something was said about following the route and the practice of some latter-day Canterbury pilgrims, and walking from London to that celebrated shrine. A party of Australian friends, not very dissimilar in number and artistic taste, had done so some years since, sending on their baggage by coach and rail to the terminus of each stage. But the elders of this party dissented from the proposition.
In the first place, it was unnecessarily fatiguing; also expensive in time. They had an extended tour to consider, and would find that, although they claimed to be over the average, as pedestrians, sufficient exercise would be provided before their return.
Moderate counsels prevailed, and though the younger division were eager for the Pilgrim’s staff and Cockle-shell business, the rail and coach party carried its amendment. After this, what was to be the first objective? The Lakes—Windermere, [380] ]Grasmere, the Wordsworth country, Rydal Mount, and so on. Yes, decidedly.
They were fortunate in finding a decent hostelry near Grasmere, which served as a pied à terre, whence they could sally forth into the ‘royaulme of faerye,’ and revel in memories of the glorious dead. Here was the Poet’s ‘little nook of mountain ground,’ overlooking the Lake of Grasmere. Here he lived for eight years, hither he brought his bride—