A ROSE OF TARRAWONGA.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1197, 8 February 1895, Page 9

A ROSE OF TARRAWONGA.

By Morbey Roberts. ‘ It’s your pleasure to chaff me,’ said Bob, ‘ and to tell me that I am a green Englishman; to imply that if I were more verdant the cows would eat me. You have doubts if I know which is the right side ©f a horse.’ ‘ Well, do you?’ said Nellie McLaren, and she ran the other side of a rosebush in mock terror of the young Englishman’s mock indignation. But he Stayed where he was and laughed. ‘ Hid it ever occur to you, Miss McLaren, that your attitude in such things is highly provincial? You were good enough not to mince matters when you told me that I had “no savvy.’” • •H' The"* girl looked over the roses. ‘ I never did; Mr Gray.’ ~ ‘ Pardon me, savvy was the word. It is a colonial expression that I am now acquainted with. I hope to be able to use it myself soon.’

‘ Well, if I did it slipped out, but ’ ‘ I understand, my fair Australian. Perhaps you are right, but wait and see.’ And for the moment there was silence in the darkening garden of roses. The lamp was lighted in the sitting-room of the house in which Gray was a guest ? its rays shot across him suddenly. ‘We had better go in, I think,’ said Nellie McLaren. An in they went. The station of Piney Ridge was not a large one, nor one in which the main object of the owner was to make money. Gillford, Gray’s host, was distinctly a lazy man, who was lucky beyond expectation or youthful hope. Hard

work had no share in his success ; but even in speculation he could not lose money. He was hospitable, as all Australians are, and would not let young Gray go. If he had had a daughter himself, and if nothing else had bloomed close by, Bob might have hung up his hat at Piney Ridge. Put the garden of Tarrawonga had still three roses in bloom, though two had been transplanted. Tarrawonga was fifteen miles south of the Ridge, and lay close to the big billabong in a more heavily timbered country. The springtime there and the early summer before the

grass was eaten or burnt up, were seasons to live through. Tnough the water in the billabong might be scanty, only to be found with difficulty in the deeper holes after a long search with a thirsty horse, at the station itself the trees were tall, the shade heavy, and the garden sweet with the scent of roses. They hung over the edge of the deep-cut creek, and climbing against the long, low house, dropped upon the roof, where a Virginia creeper ran in the seams of the stringy-bark slabs. John McLaren, who owned the station, raised sheep and a few horses, but he was more famous for his daughters than for his wool/and though that might fetch good prices in the grease or washed, his girls were more than a mighty pastoral reputation. From Corowa on the west to Tumbarumba in the hills, and from Albury to Wagga Wagga, Nellie and Clara and Judy were as well known as Gordon of Roundhill. But Gordon was disliked aud the daughters of, Tarrawonga were loved, either in the mad way of the young man, or patriotical’y because they were as bright examples of girls as New South Wales could produce when it chose. And of these Nellie was the tallest, the bravest, the most daring, the hardest to influence, the most impossible as it seemed to woo. For many had tried, and as many had failed. But for him who should succeed at last—and at the thought of it Bob Gray’s pulses galloped. .Yet she defied him even before he was dead set on her. And then ha was the boldest, then he nearly lost her.

He put on her cloak that night as the buggy was waiting outside, and as she put up her hands to draw it over her shoulders he stooped rashly and kissed her cheek. ‘ And now you’ve done it, you fool,’ his late discretion screamed at him, for Gillford’s sister was in the room and saw it. ■ \

Nellie stood for a moment thunderstruck, and then ran a step and turned upon him like a fury—like a wild cat. ‘ What do you mean ? How dare you ? Are you a gentleman ?’ And her eyes blazed. Bob felt as small as a doll with an escape of sawdust; he wished to be smaller ; he prayed for earthquakes and sudden death. “ I beg your pardon, Miss McLaren ; I beg your pardon,’ he stammered. But she could not answer him, she only glared. Suddenly she turned and left the room. He was in a state of collapse until Miss Gillford laughed. ‘ I think she almost deserved it, Mr Gray,’ she said.

For She was an Englishwoman, and colonial chaff never pleased her. ‘Savvy, indeed,’ she saida little angrily; ‘I heard her say you had none.’ ‘ And I’m afraid she’s right. I mucked it this time,’ murmured Bob ruefully. ‘ I don’t know why I did it. The devil tempted me, I do believe.’ And for weeks he dared not go over to Tarrawonga. But he was fixed at Piney Ridge, and at last at Gillford’s earnest suggestion he bought a small share in the station. ‘ He’s a good boy,’ said Gillford. ‘ If I had a son I should want one like Bob.’ And lie let Bob learn to run the place. The

way he took was to go in for impro.ving the wool. He persuaded Gillford to get rid of all his rams. He bought others of McLaren, to whom he continually went for help. But the tallest rose of Tarrawonga garden was bitterly full of prickles. Her ceremony was surprising. Her language was most carefully chosen, never a word of colonial slang escaped her lip 3in his presence. She never gave him a chance.

‘ And he can’t ride really,’ said Nell to Judy. 'He’s just an Englishman. I’d like to see him on a buck-jumper—and off one.’ ‘ You’re hard on him,’ urged Judy, who was softest of the lot as well as the youngest, ‘ he doesn’t seem so conceited as most Englishmen, and I’ve never heard him say a word against the colonies.’

‘ He doesn’t understand colonial girls,’ said Nellie, savagely ‘ He’ll do that by-and bye,’ answered Judy. ‘ Father says he’s no fool about wool.’ ‘ You innocent chicken,’ said Nellie, ‘ he’s got on the dad’s one weak spot.’ Judy opened her eyes. ‘ Then he’s not a fool after all, even about other things.’ He wasn’t, for he left Nellie to her own devices and didn’t worry her, while he gave all his attention to learning what he could about Australia. And when once he got rid of a rather stiff seat on horseback the men on the station began to view him more favourably. He tackled a buckjumper who was one too many for him and landed him on top of a fence, which was fortunately rotten, but the minor vice of pig-jumping he could fight with.

‘ He’ll ride yet,’ said one of the boundaryriders.

And he did. Even Nellie found that out; and when she saw, as she was bound to do, that he was really fond of her, she grew a little more gentle to him in her mind. She dropped her stately ceremony and was outrageously rude. Bob didn’t like it at all, for he was still very young, and had no experience, but he didn’t give it up. ‘ Mr McLaren,’ he said one day as he was riding with the old man, ‘ I want to tell you something. I’m going to marry one of your daughters if I can.’ McLaren pulled up short. ‘ The devil you are. And which and when and how ? And have I anything to do in the matter ?’

‘ That’s not for me to determine, sir.’ said Bob, ‘ but it’s your daughter Nellie, and the when is when I can, and it’s only the how that bothers me.’ Old McLaren stared for a bit, and then laughed.

‘ Well, I don’t know that I object, though I don’t know how your affairs stand.’ Bob looked relieved. ‘ I’m not blowing, sir, but I believe that will be all right.’ And he went into financial details as they rode on. They were eminently satisfactory, and Bob stayed to dinner. He walked in the garden of roses afterwards, but Nellie kept Judy and Clara there too. So Bob went off to the Eidge in a bit of a sulk. But after a gallop of three miles in the moonlight, which was so strong and bright that the shadows of the trees looked like fallen timber on the road, he calmed off and whistled and finally sang. ‘lt is the Australian waratah, but I don’t hold it in my hand,’ he said. When he turned in he tumbled off to sleep, and dreamt that he was trying to gather a rose which played a sort of ‘ bob cherry ’ with him. When he thought he had it, it wasn’t there, and when he believed it had gone quite beyond reach it suddenly brushed his cheek.

Four days after that he met Nellie riding home from Ten-Mile Creek, and he never craned at the fence.

‘Miss McLaren,’ lie said, ‘there is something I should like to say to you. The first time we met I behaved like a fool, though you did make it a trifle warm for me. But I was wrong and foolish. Now I want you to know that I hope that some day you will do more than forgive me. May I come on Sunday ?’ ‘ I believe my father asked you, didn’t he ?’ said Nellie, coldly, but with an inward flurry. Bob looked disappointed. ‘ I would rather you asked me,’ he said eagerly. ‘ Good-bye, Mr Gray, I must be getting home.’ And putting her horse at a fence she took the shortest way, leaving him planted there. Yet somehow he was not discouraged, and went home with a smile on his face. For she had fled.

‘ Perhaps she thought I couldn’t jump that fence,’ said he grinning, and he patted his horse’s neck.

And on Sunday he proposed to her. She refused point blank, and protested so much that even Bob saw through her. ‘ I shall try again,’ he said. ‘ It won’t be any, not the least good,’ said Nellie.

‘ That’s my look-out,’ answered Bob, stoutly, and though she shook her head till her hair was in danger of falling in a mass he hung on to his point. ‘ I shall try again.’

When he went he put his horse over a. fivebarred gate instead of opening it, and never looked round.

‘My word,’ said Nellie, ‘I really didn’t believe he could.’ And when she was snugly in bed she went over all the reasons for not marrying him. It was astonishing how weak and futile they seemed, because —well, perhaps because she began to see there might be other things in life than being a rose in a garden and her father’s daughter. He proposed again in three months, and this time they were alone in the middle of a big sheep paddock, five miles from Tarrawonga. Bob Avas riding a lanky uncertain beast with tAvo Avhite stockings. ‘ Don’t you know what they say about Avhite-legged horses, Mr Gray ?’ and she quoted the old rhyme—- ‘ Four Avhite legs keep him not a day, Three Avhite legs send him right away, Two white legs save him for a friend, One white leg keep him to the end.’ ‘ Hoav many have I got ?’ asked Bob, wickedly. ‘ Three or four,’ she said, and laid her little cutting whip on her own bay, who went off into a gallop, but Bob Avas alongside her in ten strides.

‘ If you take a fence you’ll break my neck,’ sa ; d he. ‘ This brute ties his legs in a knot and throws himself over.’

‘ Then don’t jump.’ ‘ I’ll try the side of a house,’ said Bob, and then a post-and-rail fence barred his way. Nellie fleAv over it like a bird, but Bob’s horse struck the top rail with his fore-feet and overended. Bob was thrown clear, and he lighted on his feet holding the reins. Nellie pulled up in great alarm, but Avhen she saw him she laughed. ‘ Why you can ride —and fall too,’ she said. ‘I never said I couldn’t,’ replied Bob, coolly ; ‘it was you said it.’ ‘ Then I take it back.’

* Will you not take the other thing back too ?’

‘ No, Mr Gray, I am afraid not. I am sorry— —’

* Never mind, Nellie, some day you will.’ And she didn’t rebuke him for using her Christian name. He left her at the Billabong and went to Ten-mile Creek, whither he was bound when they met. But next time she was as thorny as ever. * I shall adopt other measures,’ said Bob, and he proposed once more with more passion in his voice. For now she ha,a really got hold of him. And if he had been able to look into her heart he would have seen that she desired no victory for her words. , , ‘ I will win you if I spend my life for it,’ he said as he went away. And as she stayed in the garden she almost called after him. For the summer was in her blood and new life came into her. Could she hold out long ? She did not answer herself, but reasons against him were weak when her nature spoke to her, and the world seemed sweet and full of strange promise. Now when she rode out she always turned towards the Ridge. For two miles away there was a hill from which she could see the white house in which he lived. And sometimes she went further still, to the very boundary of the Ridge station. She met him there one day. ‘ Were you coming to see us ?’ asked Bob, softly, looking down on her from his big brown horse, his favourite mount. ‘ I was just riding,’ she answered. ‘ Which way will you ride now ?’ ‘ I am going back home.’ 1 My dear Miss McLaren, home doesn’t lie that way.? * What do you mean ?’

He turned and pointed to the Ridge. The house was plain to see, and the long paddock through which the road run was dotted with the sheep in which he was beginning to take a pride. Yet if she would not help him he knew he would go back to England in the end. But Nellie shook her head recalcitrantly and turned towards Tarrawonga. He rode up alongside of her, and for half a mile not a word was said. ‘ Nellie, I want you to be good to me,’ he began at last. ‘I don’t think you hate me. lam sure y*a have forgiven hie.- And, dear, 1 am very fond of you. Won’t you help me lead my life out here in your own beautiful country? Or must I go back to England again ?’ She did not answer, and when she tried she could not speak. She touched up her horse, and it broke into a canter. He followed and regained his place on the off side. His leg touched her saddle. ‘ Won’t you answer me P’ And she shook her head again. But both horses broke into a gallop, and the motion and inward impulse touched both differently. As the air sang past her, her breath came quicker—the courage of her horse came into her, and she felt stronger against him. And as . the bay forged ahead she felt freer. But in Bob came back strange instincts of the chase, and in his singing blood was the memory of the- lo\es of those who had begotten him, and by primeval instinct awakening in a new world, in new conditions which to the instincts are older , than civilisation, he knew that he must win 1 her now or lose her for ever.

And as the trees slipped past and the tree shadows brushed them and they shot into alternate sun and shade, she knew she was racing against Love and the strong desire of Love, and close behind her was the man whom she feared so strangely. For as she glanced at him with a backward look that photographed him and his horse in one, she saw the set jaws and the eager eyes of a man indeed. Him she had regarded as a boy had dropped his youth like a cloak, and as he came up slowly on her right she knew she would yield in the end, unless her horse was the best on the long flat and over the timber that lay before them. For half a mile they raced and he gamed nothing, but at the first fence the longer jump ot Gray’s horse landed him level. He ranged up alongside. ‘ You shall love me, yes, and now !’ But she sheered away to the left, and his words were as air. For a moment she was joyous, and then, though she rode her hardest, she prayed that the big brown might prove the better horse.

At the next fence they were nearly level again, and as they landed he shot close to her again and tried to put his arm about her waist. But she bent and escaped him, and with a sharp cut of her whip she got ahead half a length. And noAV the horses began to drop flakes of foam, and they Avere dappled with sweat in the great heat of the sun that burnt above and was reflected hotly from the burnt earth.

But Bob shouted aloud for joy, and she heard his voice, which seemed like a song of victory, and her heart quailed, though she rode like a young Centaur, one with her horse. But as she quailed, her horse quailed, too, and again the no3e of the brown reached up alongside and crept, inch by inch, nearer and nearer. ‘You love me! You love me!’ cried the lover. And she. turned desperately. ‘ No, no !’ But then she felt his breath against her neck and cheek, and in a long, close way through thicker wood she could not turn from the path. And his arm crept round her Avaist. She could not help it, though she dropped her whip to thrust his hand aAvay. And the next moment she was lifted from her saddle and swung in front of him clear of her OAvn horse, who swerved terribly from under her. ‘ Put your arms round me,’ he said, and she did so, laying her head closely on his breast; and then the good broAvn rose in the air and took a last low fence. As they landed, her eyes opened and Bob bent doAvn and kissed her. ‘Mine, mine!’ said Bob. ‘God bless you, my darling !’ And when he checked his horse, though she did not speak, she threw her arms about his neck and oAVned herself conquered. The Rose of the Garden was gathered.