“That was a strange resolution, was it not, under the circumstances?” remarked Mr Rogers.

“I think it was, but she had a reason for it. She fancied that her uncle Christopher, who had gone thither many years before, might still be living there. I believe, too, that the sight of the familiar scenes around her, associated as they were in her mind with her husband and son, were more than she could endure. At all events she went, and arrived safely in the colony. She wrote to apprise me of it, but I never heard from her again. Nor have I ever been able to discover what became of her, except that she left Australia soon afterwards.”

“And what of George, then?” asked Mr Rogers, who had become interested in the narrative.

“He returned to England about six months after his mother’s departure. The boat in which he had left the Boomerang had been driven out of its course, and had at last reached the Island of Timor. Thence George had obtained a passage to Singapore, and thence again home. He came to me in great distress. His father’s death and his mother’s departure from England had been terrible shocks to him. His first thought, of course, was of immediately joining his mother, wherever she might be. But I pointed out to him that it would be better for him to wait until we could learn more of her movements. All that I had heard at that time was that she had left Australia soon after her arrival there, her uncle, Mr Christopher Wylie, having gone somewhere else, though no one seemed to know where. Probably, however, she would write home again. Meanwhile, inquiry might continue to be made. George, who was now nearly eighteen, had better re-enter the college for a year. A small legacy left him by a relative would enable him to pay for his board, and the school fees we remitted. He agreed to this, and continued in the school for a year and a half, after which I found him some employment as an extra junior master. He has continued his studies, and is now a very tolerable scholar.”

“And he has never discovered his mother’s present residence?”

“Never. A friend in Swan River, to whom I wrote, made every inquiry, but could only learn what I have already told you, that Mrs Rivers went away soon after her arrival. She had discovered some clue, it was thought, to her uncle’s new place of abode. But even that is conjecture.”

“And what does the lad propose to do with himself?” asked Mr Rogers. “He will not, I suppose, remain here much longer.”

“No. He will go away at midsummer. He wanted to go at once, but I urged his remaining until the end of the half-year. Indeed, there are preparations which must be made before undertaking a long voyage.”

“He is going to Australia, then?”

“Yes. He thinks that, although Mr Welstead’s inquiries failed to elicit the required information, he himself might be more successful. I don’t agree with him; but it would be hard to discourage him.”

“And if he finds his mother and sister?”

“Then he would buy a little land with what remains of his cousin’s legacy, and settle in the colony with his relatives, combining farming with a clergyman’s work.”

“A clergyman’s work? Has he any fancy for that?”

“Yes, a very decided one. He is one of those who are anxious to do good, but who combine with it an impatience of settled habits of life, and a thirst for novelty and adventure. I do not know how to blame him. He has all the qualities that would fit him for the course on which he desires to enter. He is resolute, intelligent, and ready; capital at all field sports and outdoor exercises; capable of bearing considerable fatigue and hardships without murmuring; and withal extremely affectionate and right-minded. Whatever purpose he might conceive, he would be pretty sure to carry out, and, unless under very exceptional circumstances, successfully.”

“Indeed!” said Mr Rogers. “Then he is certainly the man for the colonies. Well, Stansfield, I have not interrupted you, because I wanted particularly to hear the whole of this story; but you will be surprised, I think, to hear that I not only know the place where young Rivers’ mother and sister are living, but am myself personally acquainted with them.”

“With Mrs Rivers and her daughter!” exclaimed the headmaster in surprise. “I thought you said just now that you knew no one of that name?”

“Nor do I,” said Mr Rogers; “but I do know a Mrs Mansen, the wife of a Dutch farmer, who lives at one of my farms, only a short distance from my station. She has a daughter named Thyrza Rivers, whose age corresponds nearly with that of the Thyrza of your story.”

“It is an uncommon name,” said the headmaster. “Still there might be two persons so called.”

“No doubt. But you said the mother had been disfigured in the hand by a severe burn. Mrs Mansen is a handsome woman past forty; but she has just such a scar as you describe on her wrist. But did I understand you to say her Christian name was Agnes?”

“Yes,” said Dr Stansfield; “I am pretty sure it is. But anyway it will be in the School Register. Yes,” he added, taking a book down; “here it is: ‘September 24, 18 – . George, son of George and Agnes Rivers, admitted.’”

“Then I think there can be no doubt of the identity,” said Mr Rogers. “Mrs Mansen’s name is certainly Agnes. She had occasion to sign her name before me, as a magistrate, a twelvemonth ago, and I remember it perfectly. Mrs Mansen, too, had lost, or rather, believed she had lost her only son, at sea. Well, this simplifies matters, I think, considerably. I conclude this young fellow will give up all idea of proceeding to Australia, and betake himself to Mansen’s place – ‘Spielman’s Vley,’ as it is called – instead?”

“Spielman’s Vley,” repeated the Doctor. “Is that in Natal or in Zululand?”

“It is in neither. My station – Umvalosa – is just on the very borders of the three countries, Zululand, Natal, and the Transvaal; and Spielman’s Vley lies a short distance only to the north-west, in the Transvaal. It is one of the places which my chaplain, – as I call him, – Lambert, continually visits.”

“Ay; his visitations are rather different, I expect, from those of our parochial clergy?”

“Very different. There are at least a dozen places round Umvalosa, which, but for him, would be wholly without spiritual care. He visits these in regular order, as well as he can; but some of them only get a service once in two months or so. Unless there is some special reason, such as some one on his deathbed wanting him, he is unable to visit them oftener.”

“That must cause a good deal of spiritual deadness,” observed Dr Stansfield. “They must soon forget all about his visits.”

“Ah, so you in England fancy; but nothing can be further from the fact. If the parson’s visits were looked for in England as they are in my neighbourhood, the English Church would be in a very different position. Our people never forget the day when Mr Lambert is due. They will come a long distance, and in all weathers, to be present at the services. But that is human nature after all. What a man can have for the asking, he cares little about, let it be ever so valuable; what he can only get by taking much trouble and incurring great risk, that he appreciates. But this has nothing to do with young Rivers. I think I ought to see him, and tell him my conjectures – or rather, I think I may say, my decided convictions – as to the identity of his mother with Mrs Mansen.”

“Of course,” returned the Doctor. “He must judge for himself; but it appears to me to be a clear case.”

“Well, but there is something further. If he is convinced that I am right, he will, I conclude, set out shortly – not for Australia, but for South Africa.”

“No doubt of that,” assented the headmaster.

“In that case I shall make him an offer, which I hope he will accept. I told you it was the political aspect of things that had brought me home a month or two sooner than I had originally intended; but I had other reasons besides. I wanted to get one or two young men, who would take situations as schoolmasters and readers, and who might ultimately be ordained, and serve churches out there, which I believe I can contrive to get built. Now this lad seems to be the very person I am looking after. I could put him into a small farm, which he could cultivate with the help of some natives, and there would be a salary enough to keep him until the farm began to pay. That it would soon do if he was capable and painstaking, as by your account he is.”

“He is all that, I can answer for it. If any young fellow is more likely than another to succeed in such a position, it is George Rivers.”

“Very good. If he engages with me, I shall undertake to provide his outfit, and pay his passage to Durban and from thence to Umvalosa. But he must make up his mind at once. I must leave this place for London to-morrow.”

“You had better see him without loss of time. He was to go out for a short walk with his friend, Reginald Margetts; but he will be back by dinner-time. I think he will probably accept your offer. I should certainly advise him to do so.”

Dr Stansfield proved to be right in his anticipations. George was at first inclined to be somewhat sceptical as to the identity of his mother with Mrs Mansen, and also made many inquiries as to the man who, according to Mr Rogers’ theory, was her second husband. He was told that Ludwig Mansen was a very worthy man, well educated, and much respected. George would find him a very desirable relative. He was not rich, but in good circumstances. He and Mrs Mansen were generally thought to live very happily together. As regards himself, Mr Rogers knew that his mother had never ceased to deplore his death, which she supposed had certainly occurred, and that his reappearance would be like new life to her. If George had had no other reason for accepting Mr Rogers’ offer, this would have been sufficient to induce him to do so; in fact, the desire of meeting her again grew so greatly on him, that it was with difficulty that he could bring himself to consent to the delay of five or six weeks, which Mr Rogers had declared to be necessary for making the required arrangements. His passage was taken in the Zulu Queen, – Captain Ranken, commander, – a large vessel carrying a cargo to Durban, and taking a few first-class passengers at a lower rate than was usually charged by the great steam companies.

About a week after Mr Rogers’ departure for London, Redgy Margetts came to Rivers with a letter, which he had that morning received from his father.

“All right,” he said, “old fellow! The governor has given his consent, like a brick, as he is!”

“Given his consent to what, Redgy?” inquired George with surprise.

“To my sailing with you for Durban in the Zulu Queen” answered Margetts. “I hoped from the first that he would; but I said nothing about it till I was sure.”

“You go to the Transvaal, Redgy!” exclaimed Rivers. “What should take you there?”

“Oh, I have always intended to go out to one of the colonies. There is nothing for any one to do in England, you know; and it will be very jolly having you for my messmate and fellow-settler.”

“It will be very jolly for me anyway,” said Rivers, shaking him heartily by the hand. “I really think the thing is quite perfect now.”