Madame Midas. Hume Fergus

to disbelieve in its existence, when suddenly indications appeared which showed that it was near at hand. Nuggets, some large, some small, began to be constantly discovered, and every day news was brought into Ballarat about the turning-up of a thirty-ounce or a twenty-ounce nugget in the Pactolus, when, to crown all, the news came and ran like wildfire through the city that a three hundred ounce nugget had been unearthed.

      There was great excitement over this, as such a large one had not been found for some time, and when Slivers heard of its discovery he cursed and swore most horribly; for with his long experience of gold mining, he knew that the long-looked for Devil’s Lead was near at hand. Billy, becoming excited with his master, began to swear also; and these two companions cursed Madame Midas and all that belonged to her most heartily. If Slivers could only have seen the interior of Madame Midas’s dining room, by some trick of necromancy, he would certainly not have been able to do the subject justice in the swearing line.

      There were present Madame Midas, Selina, McIntosh, and Vandeloup, and they were all gathered round the table looking at the famous nugget. There it lay in the centre of the table, a virgin mass of gold, all water-worn and polished, hollowed out like a honeycomb, and dotted over with white pebbles like currants in a plum pudding.

      ‘I think I’ll send it to Melbourne for exhibition,’ said Mrs Villiers, touching the nugget very lightly with her fingers.

      ‘’Deed, mum, and ‘tis worth it,’ replied McIntosh, whose severe face was relaxed in a grimly pleasant manner; ‘but losh! ‘tis naething tae what ‘ull come oot o’ the Deil’s Lead.’

      ‘Oh, come, now,’ said Vandeloup, with a disbelieving smile, ‘the Devil’s Lead won’t consist of nuggets like that.’

      ‘Maybe no,’ returned the old Scotchman, dryly; ‘but every mickle makes a muckle, and ye ken the Lead wull hae mony sma’ nuggets, which is mair paying, to my mind, than yin large ain.’

      ‘What’s the time?’ asked Madame, rather irrelevantly, turning to Archie.

      Mr McIntosh drew out the large silver watch, which was part and parcel of himself, and answered gravely that it was two o’clock.

      ‘Then I’ll tell you what,’ said Mrs Villiers, rising; ‘I’ll take it in with me to Ballarat and show it to Mr Marchurst.’

      McIntosh drew down the corners of his mouth, for, as a rigid Presbyterian, he by no means approved of Marchurst’s heretical opinions, but of course said nothing as Madame wished it.

      ‘Can I come with you, Madame?’ said Vandeloup, eagerly, for he never lost an opportunity of seeing Kitty if he could help it.

      ‘Certainly,’ replied Madame, graciously; ‘we will start at once.’

      Vandeloup was going away to get ready, when McIntosh stopped him.

      ‘That friend o’ yours is gangin’ awa’ t’ the toun the day,’ he said, touching Vandeloup lightly on the shoulder.

      ‘What for?’ asked the Frenchman, carelessly.

      ‘’Tis to see the play actors, I’m thinkin’,’ returned Archie, dryly. ‘He wants tae stap all nicht i’ the toun, so I’ve let him gae, an’ have tauld him to pit up at the Wattle Tree Hotel, the landlord o’ which is a freend o’ mine.’

      ‘Very kind of you, I’m sure,’ said Vandeloup, with a pleasant smile; ‘but may I ask what play actors you refer to?’

      ‘I dinna ken anythin’ about sic folk,’ retorted Mr McIntosh, piously, ‘the deil’s ain bairns, wha wull gang into the pit of Tophet.’

      ‘Aren’t you rather hard on them, Archie?’ said Madame Midas, smiling quietly. ‘I’m very fond of the theatre myself.’

      ‘It’s no for me to give ma opeenion about ma betters,’ replied Archie, ungraciously, as he went out to see after the horse and trap; ‘but I dinna care aboot sitting in the seat of the scornfu’, or walking in the ways of the unrighteous,’ and with this parting shot at Vandeloup he went away.

      That young man shrugged his shoulders, and looked at Madame Midas in such a comical manner that she could not help smiling.

      ‘You must forgive Archie,’ she said, pausing at the door of her bedroom for a moment. ‘He has been brought up severely, and it is hard to rid oneself of the traditions of youth.’

      ‘Very traditional in this case, I’m afraid,’ answered Gaston, referring to McIntosh’s age.

      ‘If you like,’ said Madame, in a kindly tone, ‘you can stay in to-night yourself, and go to the theatre.’

      ‘Thank you, Madame,’ replied Gaston, gravely. ‘I will avail myself of your kind permission.’

      ‘I’m afraid you will find an Australian provincial company rather a change after the Parisian theatres,’ said Mrs Villiers, as she vanished into her room.

      Vandeloup smiled, and turned to Selina, who was busy about her household work.

      ‘Mademoiselle Selina,’ he said, gaily, ‘I am in want of a proverb to answer Madame; if I can’t get the best I must be content with what I can get. Now what piece of wisdom applies?’