Robbery Under Arms Rolf Boldrewood (best way to read an ebook .TXT) 📖

Mother was a deal older-looking, and couldn’t move about as well as she did. Aileen said she’d often sit out in the sun for an hour together and watch her walking up the garden, or putting up the calves, and carrying in the water from the creek, and say nothing. Sometimes she thought her mind was going a bit, and then again she’d seem as sensible as ever she was. Today, after a bit, she came round and talked more and asked about the neighbours, seemed more curious like, than she’d done, Aileen said, for many a long day.

“You must have something to eat, Dick,” says Aileen; “it’s a long ride from⁠—from where we know⁠—and what with one thing and another I daresay you’ve an appetite. Let me see what there is. Mrs. Storefield sent us over a quarter of veal from the farm yesterday, and we’ve plenty of bacon of our own. Mother and I live half our time on it and the eggs. I’m making quite a fortune by the butter lately. These diggings are wonderful places to send up the price of everything we can grow.”

So she got out the frying-pan, and she and I and mother had some veal chops, with a slice or two of bacon to give it a flavour. My word! they were good after a forty-mile ride, and we’d had nothing but corned beef in the Hollow lately. Fresh butter and milk too; it was a treat. We had cows enough at the Hollow, but we didn’t bother ourselves milking; bread and beef and tea, with a glass of grog now and then, was the general run of our grub.

We had a talk about the merry time at the Turon races, and Aileen laughed in spite of herself at the thought of Starlight walking down the ballroom to be introduced to her, and being taken up to all the swell people of the place. “He looked grander than any of them, to my fancy,” said she; “and oh! what a cruel shame it seems that he should ever have done what keeps him from going among his equals as he was born to do. Then I should never have seen him, I suppose, and a thousand times better too. I’d give up every hope of seeing him again in this world, God knows how cheerfully, if it would serve him or help his escape.”

“I’m down here now to see you about the same escape,” I said; and then I told her about Jim’s letter, and what he said about the mate of the ship. She listened for a good while patiently, with her hand in mine, like we used to sit in old days, when we were young and happy and alive⁠—alive, not dead men and women walking about and making believe to live. So I told her how we made it up to meet somewhere near the Queensland border. Jim to come up the Murray from Melbourne, and so on to the Darling, and we to make across for the Lower Bogan. If we could carry this out all right⁠—and it looked pretty likely⁠—the rest of the game would be easy; and once on blue water⁠—O my God, what new creatures we should all be!

Aileen threw her arms round my neck and sobbed and cried like a child; she couldn’t speak for a bit, and when she looked up her eyes seemed to have a different kind of look in them⁠—a faraway, dreamy sort of light from what I’d ever noticed in them.

“It may come about,” she said, “Dick. I’ve prayed whole nights through and vowed my life to the Blessed Virgin. She may accept the service of my years that are to come. It may be permitted after all the sins of our people.”

After this she dried her eyes and went to her room for a bit, while I had a quiet, easy sort of talk with mother, she saying a word or two now and then, and looking at me most of the time, as if that was enough without talking.

Then Aileen came out of her room with her habit and hat on. “Run up my horse, Dick,” she says, “and I’ll take you over to see George Storefield’s new place. A ride will do me good, and I daresay you’re not tired.”

I caught her horse and saddled him for her, and off we went down the old track we knew so well all our lives.

I told her all about our lark with old George, and how good he’d been through it all; besides promising to give us a lift through his country when we made the grand start. She said it was just like him⁠—that he was the kindest soul in the world, and the most thoughtful. The new Mrs. Storefield had been very civil and friendly to her, and told her she knew George’s feeling towards her, and respected it. But Aileen never could feel at home in the grand new house now, and only would go to see old Mrs. Storefield, who still lived in the family cottage, and found it the best suited to her. So we yarned away till we got in sight of the place. When I saw the new two-story stone house I was regular struck all of a heap.

Old George had got on in the world and no mistake. He’d worked early and late, always been as steady as a rock, and had looked ahead instead of taking his pleasure straight off when he got the first few hundred pounds together. He’d seen fat cattle must be dear and scarce for years to come. Noticed, too, that however cheap a faraway bit of country was held, sometimes bought for £200 or £300, it always rose in value year by year. So with store cattle. Now and again they’d fall to nothing. Then he’d buy a whole lot of poor milkers’ calves about Burrangong, or some of those thick places