‘What a new life this is, compared to our existence in Sydney!’ exclaimed Hermione to her mother, as together they paced the deck, leaving their father to sit between Vanda and the younger girls, answering their endless questions.
‘Oh, I am so delighted that you persuaded father to make the plunge, and take us home! [244] ]I was afraid that he might suddenly get bad news from Pilot Mount, or a bank, or something, and say it was impossible to go; you never can be sure, until you are actually on board, and off—really off. Even then the Bardsleys actually came back from Colombo, for some trumpery reason—the climate did not agree with their aunt, or some one. I believe the elder girls went on by themselves. I couldn’t have done that, could I, mother? but you must own it was heartbreaking.’
‘It is like many things that have to be endured in this life, my darling!’ said the fond mother, tenderly parting the bright hair of the girl, now in the first flush of youthful beauty; for they were a handsome family, the Bannerets—vigorous in mind and body; devotedly attached to each other and to their parents; clever in their way, though perhaps not of the highest order of intellectual development, but highly intelligent, and sympathetic to all the higher ideals. What was wanting in early and thorough training was compensated by energy, courage, and the fervent desire to approve themselves fitted for the front ranks in all departments of human effort.
. . . . . . . . .
The voyage came to an end, much like other voyages to the home-land, the Mecca of Australian-born colonists, the ancestral isle—the sacred soil, hallowed by a thousand traditions with which all are chiefly familiar from early childhood, but on which not all are privileged to tread. To those who, from narrow circumstances, increasing age, [245] ]or other reasons, the priceless privilege has been denied (and there have been cases of highly cultured, indeed eminent personages, who, with a curiously accurate knowledge of London town and suburb, have yet never seen either), the omission has caused a regret which only ended with life; while those who can talk of British country houses, and the green lanes of ‘merrie England,’ bear themselves ever afterward with a sense of superiority over their less fortunate friends and relatives. Unvexed by storms, the good ship Lhassa pursued her course to Colombo the paradisial, where first the glories of a possible Eden—with flower and fruit, primæval forest and mystic mountain summit, the whole set like a many-coloured jewel within the girdling wave and glowing tropic sky—were revealed to their enraptured gaze. They left this charmed region after a survey all too brief, registering a vow, separately and collectively, to revisit the magic isle, the splendour of which they would recall in their dreams. However, the next best thing would be the sights and sounds of the city of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid, the dream-palaces of Zobeide and Amina—the one-eyed Calendars
, transformed princes, and Grand Viziers. Here they were promised a fortnight’s stay, in which they could revel in the ‘havoc and glory of the East’ to their hearts’ content.
This, too, came in due course. Not alone were the immortal memories of the Arabian Nights recalled before their wondering eyes, with water-carriers, black slaves, veiled women, pacha and dragoman, camels and Arab horses, with gems [246] ]of Easternrie like the sands of the sea for multitude; but more modern delights, perhaps, on the whole, not less alluring to the immature feminine mind—the grandeur and magnificence of the Savoy Hotel, with the dresses and jewels of the fair visitors who made Cairo a winter resort. Whatever sins of omission the Banneret family had to charge themselves with in after years, the complete and thorough exploration of Grand Cairo and its environs was not among them. They ‘did’ the historic place conscientiously and thoroughly. The Sphinx, the Pyramids, the Museum at Boulak; the Nile, up to the first cataract; the citadel, the Mosque, the Palace of Sweet Waters,—all the regular, and some of the irregular sights. Nothing was neglected. The girls, indeed the whole party, rode well. Mrs. Banneret had been a daring horsewoman in her youth, and though motherhood had necessarily abated her enterprise, the courage which neither poverty, sickness, fatigue, nor mortal pain had power to tame, was still unshaken, and enabled her to bear her part in the expeditions in which the family revelled. Her willowy figure, but little altered from the days of girlhood, was admirably suited for equestrian exercise. She, like the rest of the family, delighted in the glowing atmosphere of the desert, and, now that circumstances had conspired to free her from the trammels of housekeeping, she surrendered herself unreservedly to the enchantment of the hour.
‘What a glorious experience this is for the children—for all of us, indeed!’ she exclaimed [247] ]more than once. ‘I think you and I, Arnold, enjoy the whole thing nearly as much as they do—the foreign surroundings, the verification of old history and legend, the aloofness of all things from the rawness, if I may use the word, of their native land.’
‘Yes,’ he replied; ‘one seems to absorb everything in a deep, unuttered spirit of thankfulness; and while contented with our lot in life, we have one feeling in common with some of our fellow-visitors at the hotel: a conviction—I speak of Lord Westerham and that South African millionaire who came to the Savoy last week—that our financial position is assured, impossible for anything to alter. We are, however, in a higher position than the millionaire. With him brain work and anxiety have told a tale. His health is impaired. They say he suffers terribly from insomnia, than which I can imagine nothing more agonising. A man whom I knew, otherwise enviably placed, finding that change of air combined with a sea voyage had no effect, hired a cab one day, went out for a short drive, and shot himself.’
‘What a dreadful thing to do! He must have been insane.’