‘Well, a few people do,’ replied Ernest, half amused, half annoyed. ‘If we had time to visit a little, not perhaps in this neighbourhood, I could show you places well kept and pretty enough, and people who would be voted fairly provided for even in England.’ ‘I have seen none as yet,’ said Miss Neuchamp; ‘but I believe much of the prosperity in the large towns is unreal. I met a very pleasant, gentlemanlike man in Sydney, in fact one of the few gentlemen I did see there—a Mr. Croker, I think, was his name—who said it was all outside show, and that nobody had made any money in this colony, or ever would.’ ‘Oh, Jermyn Croker,’ said Ernest, laughing; ‘you must not take him literally; he is a profound cynic, and must have been sent into the world expressly to counterbalance an equally pronounced optimist, myself for instance. That’s his line of humour, and very amusing it is—in its way.’ ‘But does he not speak the truth?’ inquired the literal Augusta; ‘or is it not considered necessary in a colony?’ ‘Of course he _intends_ to do so, but like all men whose opinions are very strongly coloured by their individualism, which again is dominated by purely physical occurrences, such as bile, indigestion, and so on, he unconsciously takes a gloomy, depreciatory view of matters in general, which I, and perhaps others, think untrue and misleading.’ ‘I believe in a right and a wrong about everything myself,’ said the young lady, ‘but I must say I feel inclined to agree with him so far.’ Ernest was on the point of asking her how she could possibly know, when the turrets of Rainbar appearing in sight, the conversation was diverted to that ‘hold’ and its surroundings, the danger of arriving in the midst of an altercation being thereby averted. ‘Allow me to welcome you to my poor home,’ said Mr. Neuchamp, driving up to the door of the cottage, and assisting her to alight. ‘I wish I had had notice of the honour of your visit, that we might have been suitably prepared.’ ‘Stuff!’ said Miss Augusta. ‘Then you would have written to prevent me coming at all. I was determined to see how you were _really_ getting on, and I never allow trifling discomforts to stand in the way of my resolves.’ ‘I am aware of _that_, my dear Augusta,’ replied Mr. Neuchamp, with a slight mental shrug, in which he decided that the trifling discomforts alluded to occasionally involved others besides the heroine herself. ‘But can you do without a maid? I am afraid there is not a woman on the place.’ ‘That’s a little awkward,’ confessed Miss Neuchamp. ‘I did not quite anticipate such a barrack-room state of matters. But is there none at the village, or whatever it is called, in the neighbourhood?’ ‘I have a village on the run, I am sorry to say; but though we are at feud with the villagers, I did attempt to procure you a handmaid, and I will see what has been done.’