A Girl of To-day by Ellinor Davenport Adams - HTML preview

CHAPTER XVIII.
 TO THE FAR SOUTH.

“And so you want me to go back to Australia alone? But, my dear madam, consider. Though I say it, this is a really first-rate opening for Jim—and remember the advantage to your own children. You won’t think me impertinent, will you, for what may seem a cool sort of interference in your affairs? You and all your family have been so kind to me that I can’t help taking a warm interest in your children; and as for Jim—I think he’s first-rate. I quite admit that, in wanting him, I’ve a selfish regard for my own concerns.”

“I don’t believe there’s an atom of selfishness about you, Mr. Lessing,” replied Mrs. Morland, speaking slowly and very sincerely. “I am not in the least offended by your frank speech, for I appreciate to the full all you say about my children. Among ‘my children’, you must please include Jim; and when I say that your opinion of him is also mine, I think you will see why I want to keep him with me. He is willing to endure exile for the sake of his sister and brother; but I no longer think, as I’m afraid I did once, that Jim ought to give all and receive nothing. Frances and Austin are not afraid of work, and are anxious to do all they can to ease the load which, as you know, at present lies chiefly on their brother. By and by they will relieve him more. No, Mr. Lessing, we can’t part with Jim. To be plain, we are indebted to you for teaching us how much we need him.”

“Then that’s all right,” returned Tom heartily, “and glad am I to hear it. I didn’t take long to see that the foolish lad was breaking his heart because he fancied the young folks and you would just as soon be without him. So, thought I, let Jim put it to the test: if he’s right, he’ll do better to make a fresh start and learn to stand alone; if he’s wrong, he’ll be a happy fellow when he discovers it. There, you’ll forgive me, won’t you? I meant my offer straight enough, and I mean it still. It rests with you whether Jim has a way made clear for him, or whether he hasn’t. He won’t leave you and the children. Well and good: let you and the children come with him. A minute more—best allow me to say my say, and then you’ll find it easier to answer. My place out there is not so lonely that you need fear to be beyond civilization. There’s Douglas Town near at hand, with good schools and the rest, and plenty of nice folk of a sort you could make friends with. Then the air is dry and bracing—just the thing for your boy. Lastly,—and this is a bit personal, maybe,—if you and the young people came out with Jim, you’d find a home ready-made. The Creek Farm badly wants a mistress, and I’d be proud to see you reign there, and grateful too. I’m not a marrying man—now. I had my dream;—you’ll not think the worse of me, Mrs. Morland,—it’s over. But I can fancy what a difference it would make out yonder, if there were a kindly, gracious gentlewoman in authority. As for Miss Frances, she’d just be the light of the place. Last of all, I’d like to say that our exile—for so it is to every son of Old England—needn’t be for always. When Jim and I had made our pile,—and we’d try to be quick about it,—we’d all come home again; in time, maybe, for Austin to keep his terms at Oxford. Well, that’s all I need trouble you with for a first start; details can follow. I think you know enough to be able to decide.”

Mrs. Morland’s decision was not arrived at all at once, or without some serious deliberations with her “trio”. They were all old enough to comprehend both the advantages and disadvantages of the plan proposed by Lessing; but Austin’s delight at the prospect of becoming a “backwoodsman” was not to be damped by the assurance that in Australia, as in England, he would have to be just a schoolboy for a good while yet. The only regret of the two youngest of the family was the anticipation of a long parting from friends tried and true; but various circumstances rendered this outlook less dismal than it might have been. Florry Fane and her parents were going to the Normandy aunt for a lengthy stay; Guy Gordon and Frank Temple were bound for Harrow next term; Betty Turner and the First Violin were at the same date to become pupils of Miss Cliveden at Haversfield College.

And Max? Well, Max’s movements were decided for him by Frances at the outset of the family deliberations.

“A voyage to Australia! The very thing for Max! And we could keep him out there until he was quite well and strong, and bring him back in time for college with Austin!”

“Yes, we must have Max,” declared Lessing, who had given a good many hours to the entertainment of Woodend’s petted “hero”, and accounted himself a favoured friend of the young Doctor and the old. “And why shouldn’t his father come too? I’d guarantee him plenty of practice: we’d give our ears for an English medical man out there. I’ll wager he’d make his fortune faster than any of us.”

After that, Dr. Brenton joined in one or two of the councils, but his decision was arrived at more easily than Mrs. Morland’s. He had only Max to think of, and Sir Gerald said that a sea-voyage and a prolonged residence in a fine climate would certainly save Max for a useful maturity. The Doctor set his old dreams aside, and made a final draw on “Examinations”. If that hoarded fund would give his boy present ease and future vigour, he could afford to wait patiently and let the world slip by. Some day Max would find his life-work: what it might be his father no longer cared to anticipate. Enough to know that the crown of a worthy manhood must be the unfailing reward of a generous and unselfish youth.

At last Mrs. Morland spoke.

“Children, I think that we will go. Jim ought to have his chance, and we don’t wish to separate. That, after all, sums up everything for the present, so the question is answered easily enough.... Now, we must not keep back Mr. Lessing, and he is kindly anxious to take us with him. Besides, let us remember Max, whose hope of health depends, it seems, on a quick departure. We must help each other to make haste.”

We cannot here follow our three young Altruists into their busy lives across seas; but we know that they will ever be the best of comrades, and never better than when sharing willing labours in the service of all who need their aid.

Frances’s motto, “Help Others”, was faithfully cherished in her old home. Woodend kept up constant communication with the Creek Farm, and still hoped some day to welcome the wanderers back. Meanwhile, a branch “Society of Altruists” was started in the new home in the far southern continent; and Antipodean school-fellows of Frances and Austin became oddly familiar with a certain corner of Old England, and with the girls and boys who worked and played together there.

THE END.