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News of the serious illness of the Honourable John Millibank Turnham, M.L.C., brought an endless string of callers and inquirers to the door: the muffled knocker thudded unceasingly. People came in their carriages, on horseback, on foot; and included not merely Johns distracted partners, and his colleagues on the Legislative Council, but many a lesser man and casual acquaintance Mary herself marvelled to see how widely known and respected John had been. And those who could not come in person wrote letters of condolence, sent gifts of luscious fruit and choice flowers and out-of-season delicacies anything in short of which kindly people could think, to prove their sympathy. It was one persons while to receive the visitors, answer the letters, acknowledge the gifts. Fortunately this very person was at hand in the shape of Zara. Zaras elegant manners and her ease in expressing herself on paper were exactly what was wanted.
I think youre a very lucky woman, Tilly, to get your hearts wish like this. I do hope it will bring you every happiness.
Mary paused in the act of slipping the rings off her fingers and on the branches of her ring-tree, and looked surprised. WHAT, Richard? Your OLDEST friend? But Mahony, versed in every lightest expression that flitted across the candid face before him, felt the emphasis to be overdone. Like himself it was plain Mary had suffered something of a shock.
YOU SEE WHERE I AM NOW. THE URQUHARTS INSISTED ON MY COMING OUT AND TILLY WITH ME. THERES A LARGE PARTY HERE AS USUAL, AND PICNICS, DANCING, MUSIC AND SINGING GO ON ALL THE TIME. I WAS SORRY TO LEAVE BALLARAT, WHICH IS AS LOVELY AS EVER, AND EVERY ONE JUST AS KIND. WILLY IS JUST THE SAME; SO FULL OF LIFE AND FUN YOU REALLY CANT HELP LIKING HIM, HOWEVER MUCH YOU MAY DISAPPROVE. BOTH HE AND LOUISA SEEM PLEASED TO HAVE ME AND ARE FULL OF REGRETS THAT YOU ARE NOT WITH ME. I THINK IT IS A GREAT PITY YOU DIDNT TAKE MY ADVICE AND COME TOO. EVER SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE INQUIRED AFTER YOU.
Yes, he is growing stodgy, dehling stodgy and slow! I said to him the other day, I said: John, love! this will NEVER do. WHERE is the man I married? Will you believe it, Mary, he actually wished to stop at home from Government House Ball last night? While this evening, if you please, he throws up an important dinner-party at Sir Joshua Dents, to come here. Not but what it has been a CHARMIN evening, dehling. But a man in Johns position has not the right to pick and choose.
Chapter IV
The boy was of quite another fibre: as hard to manage as they were easy; as quick as they were slow. Tilly early said of him: Lor, Mary! the doctor imself in frocks and petticoats. But this referred chiefly to little physical tricks and similarities: a certain faddiness about his food, his clothes, his belongings. A naughty child he was not at first. He, too, began life as a placid infant, who slept well, did not cry, and accepted philosophically the bottle substitute that was put to his lips. This meant that, in spite of his midget-size at birth, he was sound and healthy in a fragile, wiry way. He continued small, but was neatly formed. To his mothers colouring he added his fathers straight features; and even in babyhood had the latters trick of carrying his head well back, and a little to one side. He walked before he was a year old, talked soon after; and, to his parents pride, was able to pick out a given letter from a play-alphabet before he either walked or talked.
But, Zara . . .
The omnibus drew up in a side street before a little red-brick house one of a terrace of six standing the length of a broom-handle back from the road. A diminutive leaden portico overhung the door. Descending a step and going through a narrow passage, they entered what Mahony thought would be but a dingy sitting-room. But although small, and as yet unlit by candles, this room seemed all alive with brightness. A clear fire burned in a well-grate; a copper kettle on the hob shone like a great orange; the mahogany of the furniture, polished to looking-glass splendour, caught and gave back the flames, as did also, on the table spread for tea, a copper urn and the old dented, fish-back silver. On the walls twinkled the glass of the family portraits; even the horsehair had high lights on it. A couple of armchairs faced the blaze. And to this atmosphere of cosy comfort came in, chill and numb, two sun-spoiled colonials, who were as much out of place in the desolate, rain-swept night as would have been two lizards, but lately basking on a sun-baked wall.