The Three Miss Kings 3

The Three Miss Kings 3

In the foreground, immediately below the verandah, a little grass, a

few sturdy shrubs, and such flowers as could keep their footing in so

exposed a place, clothed the short slope of the edge of the cliff,

down the steep face of which a breakneck path zig-zagged to the beach,

where only a narrow strip of white sand, scarcely more than a couple of

yards wide, was uncovered when the tide was out. Behind the house was a

well-kept, if rather sterile, kitchen garden; and higher up the cliff,

but still partly sheltered in the hollow, a very small farm-yard and

one barren little paddock.

 

Through a back gate, by way of the farm-yard and kitchen garden, the

sisters entered their domain when it was late enough to be called

night, though the twilight lingered, and were welcomed with effusion

by an ugly but worthy little terrier which had been bidden to keep

house, and had faithfully discharged that duty during their absence. As

they approached the house, a pet opossum sprang from the dairy roof to

Eleanor's shoulder, and a number of tame magpies woke up with a sleepy

scuffle and gathered round her. A little monkey-bear came cautiously

down from the only gum tree that grew on the premises, grunting and

whimpering, and crawled up Patty's skirts; and any quantity of cats

and kittens appealed to Elizabeth for recognition. The girls spoke to

them all by name, as if they had been so many children, cuffed them

playfully for their forward manners, and ordered them to bed or to

whatever avocations were proper to the hour. When a match was struck

and the back-door opened, the opossum took a few flying leaps round

the kitchen, had his ears boxed, and was flung back again upon the

dairy roof. The little bear clung whining to his mistress, but was

also put outside with a firm hand; and the cats and magpies were swept

over the threshold with a broom. "_Brats!_" cried Patty with ferocious

vehemence, as she closed the kitchen door sharply, at the risk of

cutting off some of their noses; "what _are_ we to do with them? They

seem as if they _knew_ we were going away, the aggravating little

wretches. There, there"--raising the most caressing voice in answer

to the whine of the monkey-bear--"don't cry, my pet! Get up your tree,

darling, and have a nice supper and go to sleep."

 

Then, having listened for a few seconds at the closed door, she

followed Elizabeth through the kitchen to the sitting-room, and, while

her sister lit the lamp, stepped through the French window to sniff

the salt sea air. For some time the humble members of the family were

heard prowling disconsolately about the house, but none of them, except

the terrier, appeared upon the verandah, where the ghost of their evil

genius still sat in his old armchair with his stick by his side. They

had been driven thence so often and with such memorable indignities

that it would never occur to them to go there any more. And so the

sisters were left in peace. Eleanor busied herself in the kitchen for

awhile, setting her little batch of bread by the embers of the hearth,

in view of a hot loaf for their early breakfast, while she sang some

German ballads to herself with an ear for the refinements of both

language and music that testified to the thoroughness of her mother's

culture, and of the methods by which it had been imparted. Patty went

to the dairy for a jug of milk for supper, which frugal meal was

otherwise prepared by Elizabeth's hands; and at nine o'clock the trio

gathered round the sitting-room table to refresh themselves with thick

slices of bread and jam, and half-an-hour's gossip before they went to

bed.

 

A pretty and pathetic picture they made as they sat round that

table, with the dim light of one kerosene lamp on their strikingly

fair faces--alone in the little house that was no longer theirs,

and in the wide world, but so full of faith and hope in the unknown

future--discussing ways and means for getting their furniture

to Melbourne. That time-honoured furniture, and their immediate

surroundings generally, made a poor setting for such a group--a long,

low, canvas-lined room, papered with prints from the _Illustrated

London News_ (a pictorial European "history of our own times"), from

the ceiling to the floor, the floor being without a carpet, and the

glass doors furnished only with a red baize curtain to draw against

the sea winds of winter nights. The tables and chairs were of the

same order of architecture as the house; the old mahogany bureau,

with its brass mounting and multitudinous internal ramifications, was

ridiculously out of date and out of fashion (as fashion was understood

in that part of the world); the ancient chintz sofa, though as easy

as a feather bed, and of a capacity equal to the accommodation of

Giant Blunderbore, was obviously home-made and not meant to be

too closely criticised; and even the piano, which was a modern and

beautiful instrument in itself, hid its music in a stained deal case

than which no plain egg of a nightingale could be plainer. And yet this

odd environment for three beautiful and cultured women had a certain

dignity and harmoniousness about it--often lacking in later and more

luxurious surroundings. It was in tune with those simple lives, and

with the majestic solitude of the great headland and the sea.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER III.

 

 

PREPARATIONS FOR FLIGHT.

 

 

Melbourne people, when they go to bed, chain up their doors carefully,

and bar all their windows, lest the casual burglar should molest them.

Bush people, no more afraid of the night than of the day, are often

quite unable to tell you whether there is such a thing as an effective

lock upon the premises. So our girls, in their lonely dwelling on the

cliff, slept in perfect peace and security, with the wind from the sea

blowing over their faces through the open door-windows at the foot of

their little beds. Dan Tucker, the terrier, walked softly to and fro

over their thresholds at intervals in the course of the night, and kept

away any stray kitten that had not yet learned its proper place; that

was all the watch and ward that he or they considered necessary.

 

At five o'clock in the morning, Elizabeth King, who had a little slip

of a room to herself, just wide enough to allow the leaves of the

French window at the end of it to be held back, when open, by buttons

attached to the side walls, stirred in her sleep, stretched herself,

yawned, and then springing up into a sitting posture, propped herself

on her pillows to see the new day begin. It was a sight to see, indeed,

from that point of view; but it was not often that any of them woke

from their sound and healthy slumber at this time of the year, until

the sun was high enough to shoot a level ray into their eyes. At five

o'clock the surface of the great deep had not begun to shine, but it

was light enough to see the black posts and eaves of the verandah, and

the stems and leaves that twined about them, outlined sharply upon the

dim expanse. Elizabeth's bed had no footrail, and there was no chair

or dressing-table in the way to impede a clear view of sea and sky.

As she lay, the line of the horizon was drawn straight across the

doorway, about three feet above the edge of the verandah floor; and

there a faint pink streak, with fainter flushes on a bank of clouds

above it, showed where the sun was about to rise. The waves splashed

heavily on the beach, and boomed in the great caves of the rocks below;

the sea-gulls called to each other with their queer little cry, at

once soft and shrill; and the magpies piped and chattered all around

the house, and more cocks than could anyhow be accounted for crowed

a mutual defiance far and near. And yet, oh, how still--how solemnly

still--it was! I am not going to describe that sunrise, though I saw

one exactly like it only this very morning. I have seen people take out

their tubes and brushes, and sit down with placid confidence to paint

sun-kissed hills, and rocks, and seas; and, if you woke them up early

enough, they would "sketch" the pink and golden fire of this flaming

dawn without a moment's hesitation. But I know better.

 

Ere the many-coloured transformation scene had melted in dazzle

of daylight, Elizabeth was dressing herself by her still open

window--throwing long shadows as she moved to and fro about the now

sun-flooded room. Patty was busy in her dairy churning, with a number

of her pets round the door, hustling each other to get at the milk

dish set down for their breakfast--the magpies tugging at the cats and

kittens by ears and tail, and the cats and kittens cuffing the magpies

smartly. Eleanor, singing her German ballads still, was hard at work

in the kitchen, baking delicate loaves for breakfast, and attending to

kitchen matters generally. The elder sister's office on this occasion

was to let out and feed the fowls, to sweep and dust, and to prepare

the table for their morning meal. Never since they had grown out of

childhood had they known the sensation of being waited upon by a

servant, and as yet their system of education had been such that they

did not know what the word "menial" meant. To be together with no one

to interfere with them, and independent of everybody but themselves,

was a habit whose origin was too remote for inquiry, and that had

become a second nature and a settled theory of life--a sort of instinct

of pride and modesty, moreover, though an instinct too natural to be

aware of its own existence.

 

When the little loaves were done and the big ones put in the oven,

Eleanor fetched a towel, donned a broad hat, and, passing out at the

front of the house, ran lightly down the steep track on the face of

the cliff to their bath-house on the beach--a little closet of rough

slabs built in the rock above high water; whence she presently emerged

in a scanty flannel garment, with her slender white limbs bare, and

flung herself like a mermaid into the sea. There were sharks in that

bay sometimes, and there were devil-fish too (Sam Dunn had spread one

out, star-wise, on a big boulder close by, and it lay there still,

with its horrible arms dangling from its hideous bag of a body, to be

a warning to these venturesome young ladies, who, he fully expected,

would be "et up" some day like little flies by a spider); but they

found their safety in the perfect transparency of the water, coming

in from the great pure ocean to the unsullied rocks, and kept a wary

watch for danger. While Eleanor was disporting herself, Patty joined

her, and after Patty, Elizabeth; and one by one they came up, glowing

and dripping, like--no, I _won't_ be tempted to make that familiar

classical comparison--like nothing better than themselves for artistic

purposes. As Elizabeth, who was the last to leave the water, walked

up the short flight of steps to her little dressing closet, straight

and stately, with her full throat and bust and her nobly shaped limbs,

she was the very model that sculptors dream of and hunt for (as

many more might be, if brought up as she had been), but seldom are

fortunate enough to find. In her gown and leather belt, her beauty of

figure, of course, was not so obvious: the raiment of civilisation,

however simple, levelled it from the standard of Greek art to that of

conventional comparison with other dressed-up women--by which, it must be confessed, she suffered.