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 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.’
‘A death in the Waste,’ replied his wife sadly. ‘It is a gamble with the King of Terrors. _He_ won in a late encounter. Two brothers—sons of the soil—trained bushmen too, left their bones on the same track last year.’
‘No! They went off the recognised trail, believing that they would find water, but were deceived. They left a letter written just before delirium set in—with farewells to their kin. Their bones were found by the next exploring party.’