A Colonial Reformer, Vol. 3 (of 3)Boldrewood, Rolf
History
A Colonial Reformer, Vol. 3 (of 3)
Boldrewood, Rolf
Australia -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
Through all this halcyon time no definite pledge or vow had passed
between him and the woman whom he had slowly, but with all the force
of an inflexibly tenacious nature, come to consider as the embodied
essence of that mysterious complement to man’s nature, at once the
vital necessity, the crowning glory, of this mortal state, the vision
of female perfection! Proud, fastidious, a searcher after ideals,
prone to postpone the irrevocable decision by which man’s fate here
below is for ever sealed, he was now face to face with Destiny. Even
now he felt so utterly fascinated, so supremely content, with the
graduated intimacies of which the daily process which draws two human
hearts together into indescribable union is composed, so charmed with
the undreamed-of treasures of mind and heart which each fresh casket
unlocked displayed to his gaze, that he felt no desire to change the
mode of bliss. Why hurry to an end this sojourn in the land of Faerye,
while the bridle-reins of the Queen of Elf-land and her troop were
ringing still through the haunted woods, while feast and tournament
still went merrily on, while stream and emerald turf and bosky glade
were still touched with the glory of successful love, while the glamour
still held sea and sky and far-enpurpled mounts, upon which, let but
once the knell of disenchantment sound, no mortal may again gaze _while
life endures_?
During all this time of joy and consolation Mr. Neuchamp had regular
advices from his lieutenant, Charley Banks. That young gentleman
complained piteously of his lonely state and solitary lodging in
the wilderness, for which nothing compensated, it would appear, but
the increasing beauty of the season (pastorally considered) and an
occasional gossip with Tottie Freeman.
Now that the rain had found out the way to saltbush land, there seemed
to be but little variety of weather. It rained every other day,
sometimes for nearly a week, incredible to relate, without stopping.
The creeks were full, the flats were soaked, spongy, and knee-deep in
clover. The river was high, had come down ‘a banker,’ and any further
rainfall at the head waters, or even the melting of the snow, might
bring down a flood such as the dwellers in those parts had not seen for
many a day. The Freemans were uncomfortable enough. They had found that
their huts and fencing had been placed on land too low for comfort in
a wet season, and even for safety if the threatened floods rose higher
than usual.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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