Bengala

The sun had reached the horizon, and the fringe of gum-trees on the edge of the hill was thrown out in strong relief by the bright, intense light behind, while the rest of the wooded country lay in shade.
The evening breeze was faintly rising, and stirred the leaves of bignonias and cedar-trees in front of a low, steep-roofed cottage, in the verandah of which a lady sat, alternately patting a huge kangaroo dog and speaking to a man who stood without the gate which separated the verandah from the yard.
'Really, my good man, it is no use for you to stay! I have told you that my brother--that Mr. Herbert is not at home. He has been up the country.'
'They say he'll be back to-night,' the man answered, in a somewhat dogged and surly tone.
'Probably so, very probably; but of course he cannot be expected to attend to you. Can't you say what you want? You are one of Mr. Lang's men, I think.'
'I am, my lady,' and a half-smile of no very pleasant meaning changed his countenance for an instant. 'Well, as it seems I can't get a hearing to--night, maybe you'll be pleased to tell the gentleman that Lynch wants a word with him badly. He'll attend to me to-morrow, I'll warrant.'
Touching his hat, he turned away. The lady rose, too, and did her best to watch him off the premises, for she had lived long enough among convicts, she said, not to trust them.