and at
making acquaintance with the glorious beauties that outshone them but
could never look so kindly. Slowly Eleanor went through the gardens,
followed by her host and hostess who took their enjoyment in observing
her. In the Botanical Gardens Mr. Esthwaite came up alongside again, to
tell her names and discuss specimens; he found Eleanor knew more about
them than he did.

"All this was a wild 'bush'--nothing but rocks and trees, a few years
ago," he remarked.

"_This?_ this garden?"

"Yes, only so long ago as 1825."

"Somebody has deserved well of the community, then," said Eleanor. "It
is a delicious place."

"General Sir Ralph Darling had that good desert. It is a fine thing to
be in high place and able to execute great plans; isn't it?"

Eleanor rose up from a flower and gave Mr. Esthwaite one of her
thoughtful glances.

"I don't know," she said. "His gardeners did the work, after all."

"They don't get the thanks."

"_That_ is not what one works for," said Eleanor smiling. "So the thing
is done--what matter?"

"If it _isn't_ done,--what matter? No, no! I want to get the good of
what I do,--in praise or in something else."

"What is Sir Ralph Darling the better of my thanks now?"

"Well, he's dead!" said Mr. Esthwaite.

"So I was thinking."

"Well, what do you mean? Do you mean that you would do nothing while
you are alive, for fear you would not hear of it after you have left
the world?"

"Not exactly."

"What then? I don't know what you are after."

"You say this was all a wilderness a few years ago--why should you
despair of what you call the 'black islands?'"

"O ho!" said Mr. Esthwaite,--"we are there, are we? By a hop, skip, and
jump--leaving the argument. That's like a woman."

"Are you sure?" said Eleanor.

"Like all the women I ever saw. Not one of them can stick to the point."

"Then I will return to mine," said Eleanor laughing--"or rather bring
you up to it. I referred--and meant to refer you--to another sort of
gardening, in which the labourer receives wages and gathers fruit; but
the beauty of it is, that his wages go with him--he does not leave them
behind--and the fruit is unto life eternal."

"That's fair," said Mr. Esthwaite. "See here--you don't preach, do you?"

"I will not, to you," said Eleanor. "Mr. Esthwaite, I will look at no
more flowers I believe, this morning, since you leave the time of our
stay to me."

Mr. Esthwaite behaved himself, and though a spe