I wish she had married him."
"That's what we all say," said Tom. "I am sorry for poor Jim. He is
about the best man I know, take him all in all. If that fellow were to
die, she might have him yet, Hamlyn."
We reached the drays. There sat Mrs. Buckley on a log, a noble, happy
matron, laughing at her son as he toddled about, busy gathering sticks
for the fire. Beside her was Mary, paler and older-looking than when we
had seen her last, with her child upon her lap, looking sad and worn.
But a sadder sight for me was old Miss Thornton, silent and frightened,
glancing uneasily round, as though expecting some new horror. No child
for her to cling to and strive for. No husband to watch for and
anticipate every wish. A poor, timid, nervous old maid, thrown adrift
in her old age upon a strange sea of anomalous wonders. Every old
favourite prejudice torn up by the roots. All old formulas of life
scattered to the winds!
She told me in confidence that evening that she had been in sad trouble
all day. At dinner-time, some naked blacks had come up to the dray, and
had frightened and shocked her. Then the dray had been nearly upset,
and her hat crushed among the trees.
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