Maida, having received her discharge from H.M.G. Hospital, was sent to the Lodge under a constable’s care. Stephens, the new servant, opened the door and refused to admit her; he said ‘he didn’t know nothing about a Government woman called Maida Gwynnham, and he wasn’t going for to let anyone in while the master was out. If she’d like to wait till four o’clock to speak to him she might, but as he had gone to Kangaroo Point ’twas a chance if he’d be back; certain he wouldn’t after four.’
So Maida was forced to wander about the garden under the constable’s eye, while every now and then Stephens would peep out to see that she was a true woman, and no spy on the master’s property. Four o’clock struck, and, no Mr. Evelyn appearing, he insisted that the officer should take her away to the Brickfields. The man argued that she might be let by the morning, and then Mr. Evelyn would kick up one of his rows which everybody felt from his Excellency downwards. But Stephens said ’twas past hiring hours, and very like if the master was really minded to have the woman Gwynnham, he’d step over to the Brickfields and hire her out before she could be let to anyone else.’
So Maida was turned adrift in the Hiring Depôt, and once more made to put on the prison clothes that she had only that afternoon exchanged for her own. In an instant she was surrounded by her old shipmates, of whom about twenty were congregated in the yard. Their bloated, hardened faces told her how much they had improved by transportation and association with crime. One extolled a spree she had enjoyed with the constable on her way to the Brickfields, and another shamelessly declared that she had been in ‘Cage’ for two children, and she expected very soon to go in for a third, only she hoped to be hired out till it was quite time. Disgusted and fatigued, Maida asked if she might retire to rest, and, on plea of her having just come from the hospital, permission was granted. But there was no rest in the ward from either the filth or strife of tongues—the torrent of contamination flowed freely—the better disposed were obliged to hear what the vicious chose to relate. In the morning Maida was put to some labour, and then with the other women was turned into the yard. She retired as far as possible from her companions, and sat down on a stone to feel more vividly than ever the utter degradation of her lot; yet more calmly than ever to shut her feelings within her breast…
A carriage drove into the yard, and…an officer called for Maida Gwynnham.
A lady leaned from the carriage and surveyed her from head to foot:
‘Are you a needlewoman?’
‘I can use my needle, ma’am, but I am engaged; I believe my late master will be here for me presently.’
‘We have nothing to do with late masters; if I choose to take you out, you must either go with me or to Cascades.’
Turning to the matron:
‘The woman’s insolent, I’m afraid she wouldn’t do for me; that sort of nose is always a sign of impudence.’
At this moment Mr. Evelyn’s loud ‘Ahem’ was heard, and turning round, Maida saw her master hastening up the path. He raised his hat to the lady.
‘I beg your pardon, but this woman is my servant; I have come to fetch her out.’
‘Not if I choose to take her, sir; she says the same thing, but it is entirely contrary to convict rule.’
‘I’m afraid, sir, the lady is right,’ whispered the matron; ‘the more so as Gwynnham came in without even the pretense of belonging to anyone else.’
‘I have paid for her at the hospital for two months, in order to secure her to my family,’ replied Mr. Evelyn.
‘No matter, sir,’ bowed the lady, ‘she came in here to be hired by the first comer.’
‘I cannot contend with a lady; if, therefore, I renounce my right to her, will you concede her to me?’ asked Mr. Evelyn courteously.
‘It’s enough to spoil the creature!’ ejaculated the grandee, falling back in her seat.
She was selfish, and thought a servant worthy of so great a fuss must be worthy of her; she pondered a moment, and then inquired in a superciliously playful tone:
‘Well, sir, who is to have the woman?’
‘It is for you to decide; I would not disappoint a lady.’
There was more anxiety in his manner than he cared should appear; this was not lost either upon Maida or her would-be mistress.
‘Well, then, since the gentleman declines you, jump upon the box, you Gwynnham,’ said the lady with a forced laugh; ‘and I suppose I must go into the hiring-room and signify my wishes.’
She stepped from the carriage; Mr. Evelyn assisted her to the office-door, and then firmly but politely said:
‘Understand, if you please, that I have not declined the woman, but that you have taken her from me.’
A haughty bow was the only answer.
‘And I must beg, if you do not find her what you wish, that you will favour me by letting me know before you dispose of her,’ continued Mr. Evelyn.
‘Anyone is welcome to a convict that leaves my house! Sure to be mere refuse if I send them off.’
She vanished within the depôt, and Mr. Evelyn returned to Maida, who was now seated on the box.
‘Maida, my woman, I’m sorry for this; you’ve slipped through my fingers.’
‘Do not distress yourself, sir; I thank you for your interference, though it has been unsuccessful.’
The lady now appeared, and Mr. Evelyn hastily whispered: ‘Remember you are mine, if you leave your present mistress.’
The carriage drove on—a last and sinister bow the only further acknowledgment of Mr. Evelyn’s presence.
Maida was borne away to one of the many elegant villas surrounding New Town.
A footman opened the door, and Mrs. Patter-ley consigned her new servant to his care, saying:
‘Take this woman, and after she has cleansed herself, send her up to my dressing-room.’
Shortly after Maida went to her mistress, who abruptly commenced, ‘You’ll soon find out what your work is.’
‘I understood I was engaged to be needlewoman.’
‘I want sewing done; but that is only when you’ve nothing else to do—you are to be parlour-maid; in fact, you are to be anything I choose—I never allow any airs.’