An Outback Marriage - Page 20/145

The house stood on a spur running from the hills. Looking down

the river from it, one saw level flats waving with long grasses,

in which the solemn cattle waded knee-deep. Here and there clumps

of willows and stately poplars waved in the breeze. In the clear,

dry air all colours were startlingly vivid, and round the nearer

foothills wonderful lights and shadows played and shifted, while

sometimes a white fleece of mist would drift slowly across a distant

hill, like a film of snowy lace on the face of a beautiful woman.

Away behind the foothills were the grand old mountains, with their

snow-clad tops gleaming in the sun.

The garden was almost as lacking in design as the house. There were

acres of fruit trees, with prairie grass growing at their roots,

trees whereon grew luscious peaches and juicy egg-plums; long vistas

of grapevines, with little turnings and alleys, regular lovers'

walks, where the scent of honeysuckle intoxicated the senses. At

the foot of the garden was the river, a beautiful stream, fed by

the mountain-snow, and rushing joyously over clear gravel beds,

whose million-tinted pebbles dashed in the sunlight like so many

opals.

In some parts of Australia it is difficult to tell summer from

winter; but up in this mountain-country each season had its own

attractions. In the spring the flats were green with lush grass,

speckled with buttercups and bachelors' buttons, and the willows

put out their new leaves, and all manner of shy dry-scented bush

flowers bloomed on the ranges; and the air was full of the song

of birds and the calling of animals. Then came summer, when never

a cloud decked the arch of blue sky, and all animated nature

drew into the shade of big trees until the evening breeze sprang

up, bringing sweet scents of the dry grass and ripening grain. In

autumn, the leaves of the English trees turned all tints of yellow

and crimson, and the grass in the paddocks went brown; and the big

bullock teams worked from dawn till dark, hauling in their loads

of hay from the cultivation paddocks.

But most beautiful of all was winter, when logs blazed in the

huge fireplaces, and frosts made the ground crisp, and the stock,

long-haired and shaggy, came snuffling round the stables, picking

up odds and ends of straw; when the grey, snow-clad mountains looked

but a stone's throw away in the intensely clear air, and the wind

brought a colour to the cheeks and a tingling to the blood that

made life worth living.

Such was Kuryong homestead, where lived Charlie Gordon's mother and

his brother Hugh, with a lot of children left by another brother who,

like many others, had gone up to Queensland to make his fortune,

and had left his bones there instead; and to look after these young

folk there was a governess, Miss Harriott.