Long, loud, protracted indeed were the responses of the guests. Heterogeneous as was the assembly, but one feeling—that of deepest gratitude, of heartfelt respect—seemed to actuate the great gathering. When at length Mrs. Lilburne [217] ]stood up in her place, and the Mayor requested silence, it was wonderful how suddenly all sound and motion ceased.
She wore her simple nurse’s uniform. ‘This,’ she told her husband, ‘is the dress in which I worked, the dress in which I earned the gratitude of these people—out of respect to them, and the sisterhood who worked with me so loyally, I prefer to wear it to the end of the ceremony.’
As she stood there, outwardly calm and collected—although naturally roused to an unwonted state of exaltation by the electrical atmosphere of the assemblage—she spoke the first few words in a comparatively low tone, vibrating though they were with deep feeling and suppressed emotion; but as she became more fully pervaded by the unusual nature of the situation, and the exceptional circumstances under which the acquaintance—the friendship even, with so many now present had arisen, the colour came to her cheek, the dark eyes glowed with a fire none had recollected to have seen before, and with head erect, and fearless mien, she appeared to the excited crowd not only a beautiful woman—as she had always been considered—but as an inspired prophetess, dealing with questions not only of the life here, but of that beyond the grave. Adverting to the formation of the Pilot Mount hospital, and its humble inception by the committee of energetic, liberal-minded men—nearly all of whom she was glad to see here to-day—she congratulated the ladies and gentlemen present on the generous response made to the first appeal for subscriptions. [218] ]Money flowed in, not only from the city, but from distant camps and ‘rushes.’ Rude though the first building was, and humble the couches and pallets, the essentials of careful nursing and skilled medical aid were there. Crowds of patients taxed all their energy, but they were helped and encouraged by the medical staff, then and now self-denying, and generous, she might say munificent, in personal outlay—in giving freely of their time and skill. Every one helped, from his Worship, the Mayor, to the humblest tradesman. Progress was made—a large proportion of cures was effected. Gradually, medicines, scientific appliances and inventions were provided. And now what did they see? A noble building with an efficient staff, a decreasing death-rate—an institution comparing favourably with those of the metropolis, of her connection with which she would be proud to the last day of her life. With a parting word she would say farewell to Pilot Mount and the friends she had made there—friends of all classes—some of whom she had been privileged to help in the hour of need. Not only for this magnificent recognition of her humble work, but for the unaffected respect and sympathy which had been accorded to her since her first arrival as a stranger in the field, was she deeply, sincerely grateful. It would be among her most cherished memories, and would remain with her to the last day of her life. She could not conclude without a reference to not the least important feature of hospital duties and experiences, in which she had been enabled by reason of her opportunities to say [219] ]a word in season of a wholly unsectarian nature to those to whose bodily health it was her duty to minister. In the hour of death, almost within view of the Day of Judgment, surely it was appropriate to suggest repentance, to enjoin prayer! She respected the creeds under which all had been reared. No minister of religion had disapproved of her action, and she would now adjure those who, like herself, had felt the dread presence of the Shadow of Death, to recall the resolutions, the vows they had then made, and to act up to them for the rest of their lives. She would be here for a few weeks more; after her departure they would most probably not set eyes upon her in this world again; but she would never forget her friends of Pilot Mount, and would trust that her memory would always be associated with words and deeds worthy of their mutual esteem.
The Warden of Goldfields, ‘rising in his place,’ begged leave of his Worship the Mayor to speak briefly to the toast they had lately honoured. From his necessarily extensive official knowledge of the miners on this field, he could assert that many of them believed that their lives had been saved by Mrs. Lilburne’s skill and devotion to duty. The Chief Commissioner of Police was convinced that her advice and personal influence had prevented one serious riot, and had exercised more weight on the side of law and order than half the force under his command.
. . . . . . . . .
‘Now, my dear Alister,’ said Elinor Lilburne, when, the function being concluded, they had been [220] ]deposited safely at their hotel, after a spirited progress through an excited crowd, which might well have confused a less experienced driver, ‘how about the “necessarily rough, uncivilised inhabitants of a mining camp”?’
‘I apologise humbly for my presumption in offering an opinion founded upon ignorance the most dense, combined with prejudice the most childish. I shall submit all future statements to my “guide, philosopher, and friend.” For the attainment of sound, practical common-sense—combined with perfect manners—I shall always recommend (as I once did hear an English squire of my own county do seriously to a friend’s son and daughter) a year’s travel in Australia.’
‘Now, you are too penitent; I don’t want that; but you will acknowledge that you have learned a lesson!’
‘Lesson! I have gained an experience which I trust to profit by to my life’s end. And now, when are we to have this drive to the real Pilot Mount, which I heard you arranging with that good-looking young fellow? May I venture to risk the assertion that he is English?’
‘You are right there, or nearly so—he is a Scot—the Honourable Denzil Southwater—youngest son of the Earl of Southwater—and a very fine fellow he is. He is thinking of leading an exploring expedition across the desert—where he may find gold, or the other thing.’