Regrets of varying depth of sadness were expressed by all the members of the pilgrim band. Due acknowledgments were made to Mrs. Maclean, with assurances that her cordial hospitality and invaluable guidance would never be forgotten. But the route was given, the camp broken up, and by an early train on the following morning the whole party set out for Hexham Hall, where by ordinary course of transit they arrived with but little delay.
Although a sense of disappointment at the unexpected and, so to speak, untoward conclusion of their pleasant rambles had communicated a serious expression to the countenances of the younger members of the party, it was explained by their leader that there was no cause for depression, or more than natural regret at the occurrence. Poor old Jack Waters had fallen in the ranks of that great Battle of Life which was each day, though unheard, unseen, in ceaseless conflict around them all. He had died in the performance of his duty, full of years, and honoured of all men. No doubt he would be borne to his grave with all befitting ceremony, and followed by a great concourse of miners and fellow-citizens. For the rest, as from the commencement of the partnership which had terminated so fortunately for the Banneret family, he had freely acknowledged his indebtedness to ‘the Commissioner’—as he could not get out of the habit of designating Mr. Banneret, and also to Mrs. Banneret, whom he [435] ]loyally reverenced. By his will, made at the time, and which had never been altered, the moiety of the great mine reverted to Mr. Banneret, as also the large savings from income which he had enjoyed for many years. This was only decreased by donations to churches, charities, and benevolent associations on the Field, to which he had been in the habit of subscribing liberally, indeed lavishly, for years past. And the great concourse of his fellow-miners who followed their old comrade to the cemetery was considerably augmented by the recipients of private benefactions, known only to themselves and a few old friends.
. . . . . . . . .
Hexham again! The old house, the aged oaks and elms, the shadowy woodlands; the peerless turf, in its velvet brilliancy and smoothness, so different from much of the Border country sward in which, with all its irregularity, they had so lately revelled. However, ‘Home is home, be it ever so “splendid,”’ if a variation be permitted from the original version, and the Bannerets, though taking kindly to their improved circumstances and more or less aristocratic surroundings, were not likely to sacrifice family comfort to any presumed mandate of fashion. Thus the young people were left free, even enjoined to amuse themselves in their own way, with rides and drives, and short excursions among the more intimate of their neighbours, until the decision of the family council was declared. This High Court and Council of the Elders consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Banneret, with the sole addition of Reginald [436] ]of that Ilk, as the eldest son and heir-apparent. It was duly constituted therefore on the day after arrival, and a first sitting was held after breakfast, while the young ladies and their attendant cavaliers strolled round the gardens, visited the stables, and afterwards attended to their correspondence until lunch time.
Mr. Banneret having visited his office, produced a collection of business papers, including one from poor old Jack Waters, of strange-appearing caligraphy, but intelligible and clear in meaning as the writer’s own speech. ‘You see, he says here (in a letter to me, dated shortly before the end) that he doesn’t feel so well as usual; has, indeed, a sort of giddy feeling that he doesn’t fancy. The doctor tells him that his heart is affected, and that he must be careful—might drop any time—
‘Not a bad thing either! (he goes on to say—poor old chap!). Hope the Lord will take me that way when my time’s up. I don’t want no hospital business; a short call and a-done with it. That’s my notion. I don’t call myself an extra religious cove, but I’ve wronged no man—not wilful, that is—and, barrin’ an extra glass or two, I’ve no call to think that God Almighty’ll be hard on a poor old chap that’s had no book larnin’ and tried to do the fair thing between man and man as far as he know’d how. My respects to the family, and to Mrs. Banneret above all. She helped me more than once, or twice either, when I was low down. It’s my wish, though I’m not going to alter my will, that she shall have a trifle, separate and privit for herself, say ten thousand pound—and the young gentlemen and young ladies, five thousand a-piece to remember pore old Jack by.
‘You’ll find the accounts right. I’ve had ’em ordited reg’lar by a gentleman as we both know and trust. It’s the best way. I will now say good-bye, sir! Life’s [437] ]uncertain. God bless you and yours, as has allwaies been good to me, rich or poor; and I’m glad the mine’s turned out a blessin’ to all concerned, as I sed it would.—I remaine, Yours true & faithful, John Waters.’
‘One thing I forgot to menshun. There’s Docter Barnarder’s Home for pore little boys and gals. It’s been in my mind a goodish while. It’s about the best thing in that line as I ever herd tell of. I hadn’t much more chance than them children. I was turned out to get my livin’ preshus early—only it was in the country, not the town, lucky for me, where I growed up strong and hardy, thank the Lord! I want that docter to have a thousand down and a hundred a year afterwards. Lord Brassey’s the President I am told. I seen him in Melbourne when he was guv’nor there. He’ll take care things goes right, I’ll be bound. So no more from old Jack.’
There were tears in Mrs. Banneret’s eyes when the letter, longer than his ordinary literary efforts, was concluded. ‘Poor old fellow!’ she said. ‘How well I remember the morning you drove me into Barrawong to hear his story and give my casting vote. How weak and ill he looked! But I felt sure he was speaking the truth. And so we accepted the “Last Chance,” luckily for us all!’
‘Yes, indeed. I believe your vote turned the scale. A little thing would have prevented me taking the risk. So many golden hopes had proved failures. There was Annandale-Wilson, such a fine fellow—clever, experienced, high up in the Civil Service—lost all his savings in just such another tempting investment. Indirectly it caused his death, I believe, from work and worry.’
‘How sorry we both were, I remember. Well [438] ]we must be grateful that our lot in life is different. But I don’t like this new departure. Shall you have to go out again? Remember we are not so young as we were. Can’t you send any one?’
‘It is so difficult to find any one with full knowledge of mining who, at the same time, can be absolutely trusted. Reggie, of course, is too young, and has not been in the way of mining matters lately.’