My Wedding Day.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 964, 22 August 1890, Page 9

My Wedding Day.

A SOUTH AUSTRALIAN STORY. COMPLETE IN TWO CHA.PTEKS. CHAPTER I. ‘Well, Miss Grey, you are going to have a scorcher,’ said Mr Green, as he greeted me one summer morning. I would have gladly doubted his word, for it was Christmas day, and, ; moreover, my wedding day as well; but ’ early as it Avas, the sun Avas shining from a cloudless sky— ‘ shining with all his might ’; and, though he embrowned the grass and baked the earth, and pumped up every drop of water long ago, leaving nothing but hot stones in the creek beds, he set to Avork as if he had just taken a contract to dry up the deluge and wanted to get done in time. ‘Ah, Avell,’ I said, trying, to make the best of it, ‘ well, blessed is the bride the sun shines on, you knoAV.’ I left the shady veranda and Avent across to the wool-shed to give a finishing touch to the wedding breakfast, already laid there on a long table improvised for the occasion. Only the decorating part was left to me; and as 1 arranged such greenery and flowers as I had, the old saw kept running in my head :— ‘ Blessed is the bride the sun shines on.’ Surely the omen is true this once, for was there ever such a splendid felloAv as Jack, or such a lucky girl as I? Then I thought of my past life, and Avondered if I was the same Mary Grey who two years—yes, only two years—ago had been all alone in the world. I remembered my timid, scared feeling at being among strangers when I came as governess to this up-country run. Hoav queer the life had seemed at first, and how home-like it seemed now. It was hard to realize that I could ever be afraid of Mrs Green, Avho was like a loving mother to me. I soon got to like my Avork, too; and then—yes, then came Jack, and had things been ever so bad, life would have seemed eouleur de rose to me. So I was dreaming over my work that hot Christmas morning thirty years ago, Avhen I was disturbed by Minnie Green. * Oh, Miss Grey,’ she said, ‘ Mr Rushton has come, and Mr Stanley [Dick Stanley was to be Jack’s best man] , and Mr Brice, and ’ —with emphasis— ‘ the parson ? Such a funny little man, Miss Grey, Avith yellow hair, and a pink face like a baby’s and Avhite hands. Do parsons ahvays have pink faces and white hands?’ I never had an opportunity of answering this question, for just then Jack appeared, and Minnie having gone to have another look at the cleric English complexion and white hands which had so impressed her, we fell into a conversation, interesting enough to ourselves, but of no concern to outsiders, till we were interrupted by Mrs Green. ‘Well, upon my word/ she said, ‘ what on earth can you two have to talk about ? Come, Mary; it is time for you to think of dressing. You can’t have anything very particular to say to J ack here, and if you have, there is all the rest of your life to say it in.' With which profound remark she sent J ack to the dining-room, where a picnic sort of first breakfast was going on; arid taking me to my room, she brought me a cup of tea and told me to rest a little, for I had a thirty-mile ride before me. Now, though my dress was simple in the extreme, and I could have put it on myself in five minutes, being a bride I must be dressed. Mrs Green and Minnie, who Avas to be bridesmaid, undertook this office and hindered me sadly. My dress Avas plain Avhite muslin, simply made, and I had not intended wearing a veil; but Mrs Green said as they seldom saw a wedding, and she did not suppose I would be married again in a hurry, I might as well do the thing in style while I was about it; so, to please her, I shrouded myself in a length of plain tulle that covered me almost from head

to foot, and really the effect was rather good.

At last I was dressed; but somehow we managed to be late, and it was a quarter of an hour behind time Avhen I went across to the wool-shed on Mr Green’s arm/; while Biddy an umbrella over my head, and Mrs Green followed sticking in utterly unnecessary pins to the very last moment. Every one was waiting; and the shed, decorated with such greenery as was available, looked quite festive. At one end stood the breakfast table Avith the cake, home-made, but imposing, a towering monument to Mrs Green’s housewifely skill. By a small table stood the clergyman in his surplice, looking a trifle out of place; Avhile round about werearianged all available seats from chairs to milking-stools and slab benches, with stick legs. They were all occupied, for, as I have already said, a wedding was not an every-day occurrence, and people had turned out in full force. We advanced with all possible decorum, and the ceremony proceeded as usual till the ring had been put on and the blessing given, when some one, breathless and dusty, dashed in at the door and cried ‘ Fire ! Bush-fire. Close here.’ Instantly most of the forms were upset and there was a rush for the door. * Hi ? Stop a minute,’ cried Jack, as he collared his two friends and dragged them back; ‘ we will get this over now.’ The clergyman hesitated, then, skipping a good deal, he began the exhortation in Avhich wives get so much good advice and husbands so little. ‘ Oh, never mind all that,’ cried J ack, stamping with impatience; ‘ we will have the ‘ amazement ’ and all the rest of it some other time. What have Ave to sign ? Be quick.’ J ack’s friends made the poor clergyman show where he had to sign, and we all did it in a desperate hurry, the two witnesses scrawling something when their turn came, and bolting at once. Jack just took me in his arms and gave me a hurried kiss, ‘ Good-bye, my dear little Avife,’ he Avhispered, ‘ good-byeand he a\ as gone, leaving me and the clergyman alone together. He—the clergyman—was a young man just out from home. He had a clear complexion and fair hair parted doAvn the middle, and was altogether the mildest-looking little man imaginable ; his little round face just now displaying the blankest possible astonishment. ‘ Ye husbands—loveth himself —ye wives—subject—plaiting of hair and wearing of gold—amazement,’ he muttered incoherently, looking from me, standing alone in my white veil and dress, to the deserted and upturned forms, and the cake toAvering in solemn grandeur, to the end of the room. I believe he manfully intended to do his duty, if no one else did, and finish that ceremony to the bitter end ; but to read that exhortation at one poor woman left all alone would have been, to say the least of it, personal; so he gave it up and shook hands, as is the practice of clergymen. ‘ I—l wish you every happiness, Mrs Rushton/ he stammered ; then, remembering that I had just been unceremoniously deserted by my bridegroom, and not being sure whether such was the custom of the country or not, he muttered something about ‘ sympathy ’; and then, gathering his wits together with a violent effort, he burst out like Mr Winkle :— ‘ Where are they? , What is the meaning of this indecorous behaviour ?’ I did not answer, but ran to the door to look out. ‘ What does this mean ?’ he repeated, following me. ‘ Can’t you see ? Can’t you smell ?’ I answered impatiently. ‘lt is a bush fire.’ The head station was built in a valley at the foot of a range of hills that formed a sort of semi-circle behind it. They were thickly wooded with ‘stringy bark,’ and covered with fern and grass-trees, and from among them there now rose, through air already quivering with heat, a column of thick white smoke, that floated upward in billowy clouds. The fire was near—that one could tell by the smell of 'burning gum-leaves; and though it could not. have been burning long, it promised to be a large fire, and a fierce one, for, as we watched, puffs of reddish-brown rose before the white smoke, showing that the flames were getting stronger. The first of the men had disappeared over the ridge already; but Jack and his friends were only half-way up, and had stopped to cut boughs from some

young saplings. They looked back, and I snatched off my veil and waved it to Jack; they returned the salute with a flourish of their branches, and . then resumed their climb; while I twisted that unfortunate veil into a turban and went to the house with the bewildered parson. We found Mr Green giving orders for the boughs with which the veranda posts were decorated in honour of Ohristmas to be pulled down, and all inflammable things to be put away. ‘ Will the fire come here V asked the Rev. Augustus Smith, anxiously. ‘Not if we can help it,’ said Mr Green; ‘ but it will he hard work stopping it on a day like this, and it is well to be ready.’ ‘lf the fire don’t come, the sparks will,’ said Biddy, whose experience cf bush-fires was extensive, ‘ and them branches is just the thing to ketch.’ ‘ Yes; get them down at once,’ said Mr Green, and he hurried off, calling back to his wife. ‘ Send up some tea to the men as soon as possible.’ I went to my room to change my dress, and there on the bed was my labit laid out lor my home war'd ride ■with Jack. ‘ Dear me! how differently the day was turning out from what we -expected,’ I thought. If it had not been for that fire I would have been putting on my habit, instead of this print morning dress. No. On second thoughts, I decided things had happened so fast that, supposing the ceremony to have been finished properly, we would have just sat down to breakfast and I would be cutting the cake, instead of which I went to the kitchen and cut large hunks of bread with cheese to match. It really was a disappointing -wedding day. What was the good of getting married only to lose sight of my bridegroom at once, and have to work a-vvay as if nothing had happened. And Jack, poor fellow ! what a day he must be having, hard at work in the heat and dust and smoke. I felt halfinclined to give in and have a real good cry, but laughed instead, for through the window I saw the Bev. Augustus working hard under Biddy’s directions, taking down and carrying away the decorations put up with so much care an hour or so before. Mrs Green and I set to work at once on woman’s work in time of fire—boiling kettles and getting tea and provisions ready for the men—no light task in this instance, for there were thirty or forty men, and no other station near enough to share in the providing. When the first batch was ready, it was taken up the hill by two of the men’s wives. Mr Smith and I next busied ourselves in taking out and filling all the tubs in the establishment, and in them bags and branches to be used in beating, should the fire come near the house. We paused, Mr Smith and I, when we had done all we could, and gazing upward, wondered what it must feel like to be before that awful fire. Even where we were, the air quivered and danced with the heat and smoke, and the baked earth almost hurt our feet. What must it be up there? we wondered. The wind had strengthened, driving the smoke across the sky ; and the sunlight coming through it, shed a lurid yellow glare on all around. Behind tlic lull the smoke rose thicker, faster and darker, and the deep, sullen roar of the fire could be heard. As we watched, a figure appeared on the top of the hill, then another and another, till quite a dozen were in sight. I could just make out Mr Green, with Jack and his friends beside him. They seemed to be consulting about something, More men kept coming up by twos and threes, dragging or carrying scorched branches; some flung themselves down in the nearest shade, with the characteristic impulse of old hands at bush-fires to take a rest when they could get it. The rest stood or lolled in groops, evidently waiting for orders. At last the council of war on the hilltop came to an end. Mr Green pointed along the ridge and shook hands with Jack, who, with ten or a dozen men, started in the direction indicated. We had not noticed—or, at least, I had not, for, of course, I had eyes for no one else while Jack was in sight—that all this time the two women had been scrambling down the hill, accompanied by a man, who turned off to the stables, while the women came down to the house, whither we followed. ‘ Mr Green says will you give Jaekson tea and tucker for ten men; Mr Rushton is going over to the big range,’ Mrs Brown, one of the women, was saying as we came in,

We all fell to work at once. Mr Smith cut beef and sliced plum-pudding, while Mrs Green and I made substantial sandwiches ; Biddy hurried up the kettles, aud Mrs Brown and Mrs Jones packed things up as soon as they ■were ready. As we® worked, we asked brief questions, and got them answered still more briefly, with most aggravating interruptions at interesting points. ‘ Is it a big fire ?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘ Where were they when you got up V ‘Just coming off the steep range. They had stopped the fire all along, but it got into the stringy bark and came along over their heads. Are these the bags, Mrs Green ? Yes, they had to run. It got behind Mr Rushton and a lot of ’em. Where do you keep the clean towels?’ Imagine my feelings when at this point she dived head first into a cupboard and became deaf to questions. I can see it now, that country kitchen, fresh whitewashed in honour of Christmas, with a bunch of gum-boughs hung from the ceiling by way of a flycatcher. A good-sized room, with a roughly flagged floor, just now intolerably hot, for we had a roaring fire in the large fireplace, on which two large kettles and a fountain were singing and spluttering. The windowpanes were hot to the touch; plates taken from the shelves were ready warmed, and the butter was clear trans- ’ parent oil. It certainly was warm work. At the end of the long table stood Mr Smith, just now with knife and fork suspended, as he gazed at Mrs Brown, who was now intent on sorting towels. ‘ But but Mrs Brown ’ he gasped. * What’s that ?’ she said, emerging from the cupboard. ‘ How did they escape ?’ ‘ Oh, they came through it, of course. Here’s a towel to wrap that pudding in.’ I suppose, if I had had time to think of it, I would have been wretched about Jack’s danger—l was anxious as it was; but we were all so busy that I had no time to fret; beside, I knew he was safe. If he had been killed or badly hurt, nothing would have hindered Mrs Brown from telling me every detail. I suppose we all looked hot; but poor Mr Smith was the picture of misery, as he stood in his hot black clothes slicing beef in. a temperature considerably above 100°. ‘ Why don’t you take off your coat?’ said Biddy, noticing his distress. Poor little man; I believe he blushed furiously, but can’t be sure, for it was a simple impossibility for his face to get any redder than it already was. ‘ Do, Mr Smith,’ said Mrs Green. ‘I wouldn't work in a hot thing like that for anything ; besides, it’s real good cloth, and it’s get spoilt. Here, Biddy ; take Mr Smith’s coat and hang it up somewhere out of the way.’ 1 Look sharp, sir,’ said Biddy, holding out her hand; I’ve no time to lose.’ So he had to give it up. And I think that after a while he was glad, though just at first he looked hotter and more uncomfortable than ever. When we had packed up the provisions and seen Jackson start we all went into the back veranda and looked up at the hill. The fire was nearer now and the smoke was thicker; ashes and bits of burnt fern and gum leaves were falling all round; the sun shone hotter and the parched air seemed to scorch one’s face. On the hill-top the men were cutting down branches and evidently getting ready for a struggle. ‘ They are going to burn a track,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘ I expect tbey’d like their tucker now; they won’t have time to eat when the fire comes.’ ‘ Where is it now ?’ I asked, ‘ About half a mile off; but it won’t take long to come,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘ But,’ said Mr Smith, looking puzzled, ‘ why don’t they extinguish it further off.’ ‘ Because they can’t,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘ It’s in a grass-tree gully. If they were fools enough to try and stand against it, they would be shrivelled up like so much brown paper.’ And she went to the kitchen, where Mrs Green and Biddy were already preparing more tea and provisions. All this time I had been longing to bear more about Jack; but everyone had been too busy to answer questions; now I tried again. ‘What?’ said Mrs Brown. ‘Oh, Mr Rushton? He’s not hurt; not that I know on at least. Some one got his arm burnt, hut I don’t'think it was him * —in an aggravating, doubtful

tone— ‘ Mrs Jones here saw it all; I only saw it afterward. They did look sweeps, and no mistake.’ ‘ I didn’t see much,’ said Mrs J ones, modestly; ‘ I only see half-a-dozen men beating like mad; and all at once' the fire got into the trees and come along over their heads; and they never took no notice till the sparks and things had lighted the fern behind them. Where’s the sugar, Mrs Green? Yes, they had to run for it, they did! But it was so smoky you couldn’t make out which was which. The fern was blazing and the burning bark was coming down like rain. If it had been up-hill they had to go, not down, they wouldn’t have got away, no, not one of ’em. ‘ Oh, no ! Mr Rushton isn’t hurt; he’s got his eyebrows singed and lost the end off his moustaches, that’s, all. My husband has lost half his beard, and got a bole the size of your two hands in the back of his waistcoat.’ (To be concluded next week.)