“I’m happy to be making this trip,” he told me; and I lowered my head coldly and looked away. I was glad Stirling was with us.
Riding along in the early morning, revelling in the aspects of the bush, listening to the birds, now and then catching sight of some wild animal or bright plumage, I refused to be depressed by the presence of Jacob Jagger and my thoughts turned to Stirling.
They were pleasant thoughts. There he rode beside me, now and then turning to smile at me or point out some feature of the countryside which he thought I might have missed. I was contemplating the difference he had made in my life and how important he had become in it. There were times when it seemed that Lynx was more often in my thoughts than his son was, for I thought a great deal of Lynx. I accepted him as the dominant figure on the scene. Stirling reminded me of him in many ways. He was a gentler, kinder version of his father.
But one could not help being impressed by Lynx, admiring him, even feeling for him this absurd sort of devotion—which I called idolatry in Stirling—but for Stirling I had a warmer, more human feeling. I could not imagine the house—my little Whiteladies—without Lynx. Even to think of his not being there affected me deeply; and the excitement of the days was intensified by seeing him at the head of the table at dinner, or best of all playing chess with him trying to beat him or, as he said, to wheedle confidences from him. I thought more often of Lynx perhaps than I did of Stirling, but I had no doubt of my feelings for Stirling— I loved him. And I was not sure how to describe my feelings for Lynx. I believed that one day Stirling would ask me to marry him and when he did I would say ‘yes’ without hesitation. I believed that Lynx would give us his blessing (for I was sure this would be what he wanted) ana that we should be happy ever after. We would be prosperous here—although we would give up the mine. I would urge Stirling to do this. Then my thoughts grew blank because I was thinking as though Lynx were dead. Lynx . dead! That seemed impossible. No one—not even Stirling—had that immense vitality, the reflection of which revitalized one. No, I would persuade Lynx and Stirling to abandon the mine. I could not bear to think of men dying of phthisis, nor the look on Lynx’s face when he talked of gold.
We rode south and as the day wore on we found a spot where we would pitch our tent. It was near a creek so that we had water, which Stirling went to get while Jacob Jagger made a fire. Adelaide said she would show me how to make dampers and we would soon have tea. There was boiled bacon in the saddle bags and some mutton too.
What an exhilarating experience it would have been but for the fact of Jacob Jagger’s presence. I had to admit that he was very skilful in making a fire. He insisted on explaining how to make the wood kindle and how important it was to choose the right spot.
“It’s easy to start a forest fire,” he added, ‘and that. Miss Nora, is something I hope you’ll never see. “
The last one was terrible,” put in Adelaide.
“I really thought it was going to be the end of the property.”
“So did we all,” agreed Jacob Jagger, his plump face more sober than I had ever seen it. There were hours when we were actually ringed by fire. I was waiting for the the gums near the house to explode and that would have been the end. “
It was difficult ferme to imagine the horror of a forest fire. I suppose nobody can until they have seen one. Now this friendly little fire which Jagger had made was cooking our dampers and boiling our water for tea.
It was so pleasant lying there, on rugs which Adelaide and I had spread out on the turf, propped up by our saddles.
^hat do you think of camping, Nora? ” Stirling was asking me.
“I think it’s fun.”
He threw himself down beside me, his elbow resting on the ground, his arm propping up his head.
“I knew you’d enjoy it.” His eyes were warm with approval.
“I knew you wouldn’t be one of those helpless females who scream at the sight of a spider. “
“Surely we didn’t have to come camping for you to discover that?”
“No. I always knew it.” He was smiling at me in a way which delighted me. He was fond of me; there was a bond of understanding between us. I knew that he looked upon me as his protegee. He liked people to admire me, applaud me; that was why he had been so anxious that I make a good impression on his father. It showed that he loved me.
This was indeed my home. I should spend the rest of my days here.
Little Whiteladies was the setting for my future happiness. Lynx would be the master, always, but benign, indulgent and pretending that he was not. He would accept me as his daughter and love me as such; I believed he was very close to doing so already. And there would be children-my home would not be complete without them. Lynx would love them and be proud of them and love me the more for giving him grandchildren.
It was easy to dream out there in the bush. Perhaps Stirling was dreaming too and there was a similarity in our thoughts.
When it was dark we sat round the fire talking desultorily and even Jacob Jagger seemed likeable. Adelaide told us of other journeys she had made and how on one occasion she had been lost in the bush. She had gone off to get water and had lost her way back to the camp.
“It’s so easy,” she said.
“The contours of the land change so subtly that you don’t realize they’ve changed. You take what you believe to be the right track—so many tracks look alike—and then you find you have wandered off in the wrong direction. It’s a terrible experience to be lost in the bush.”
“I remember the occasion,” said Stirling.
“We all went off in different directions to look for you. We found you only half a mile away. You’d been going round in circles.”
Adelaide shivered.
“I shall never forget it. Let it be a warning to you, Nora.”
“Oh, we’ll take care of Miss Nora,” said Jacob Jagger.
“No fear of that,” added Stirling.
“Still, Nora, take warning. Don’t go wandering off on your own.”
I promised not to and we talked some more; then Stirling and Adelaide sang songs which they had sung together as children. They were songs from’ England.
“Those were the ones our father liked to hear,” said Adelaide. They were “Cherry Ripe’, ” Strawberry Fair’, and “On a Friday Mom". When We Set Sail’—all the ballads that English children had been singing for years.
Adelaide and I went into our tent and the fresh air and long ride had made me so tired that I was soon asleep.
I was awakened by the kookaburras laughing overhead. Adelaide and I slipped on our dresses and went down to the creek to wash. She brought back water which she boiled in some quart-sized pots and with this made tea which we drank from tin mugs. Tea had rarely tasted as good before.
We left early after breakfasting from dampers and cold bacon; there was passion fruit jelly, too, which Adelaide had had the foresight to slip into her saddle bag.
How I enjoyed that morning ride through the bush! But there was one incident which spoiled the pleasure of the trip. We stopped at midday and I was putting the water to boil for tea on the fire which Jacob Jagger had made when I was aware of him, standing very close.
“You’ve certainly taken to the bush. Miss Nora,” he said.
I replied without looking round, “I find it very interesting.”
“It’s a great life,” he said. Then he knelt beside me and the awareness of him made me stand up immediately. I looked over my shoulder. There was no sign of Adelaide or Stirling.
“Where are they?” I asked.
He laughed.
“Not far off. No need to be scared.”
“Scared?” I retorted coldly, annoyed because that was exactly what I was, to find myself alone with him.