THE NOVELIST. The Parson's Coat.

Otago Witness, Issue 1440, 28 June 1879, Page 21

THE NOVELIST. The Parson's Coat.

By J. Brunton Stephens.

Piom "Australasia," 1379.

Chapter I.

"I'll break that parson's neok," said Harry Prosser. And then, after a pause, he added, as if to vivify his resolution with a touch or two of warm colour, "Mark my words, I'll break that parson's ruby neck !" * Harry Prosaer was not a bad fellow at all, though he makes his first appearance here in the character of a murderer in thought and word. But he was zealous and jealous for the welfare and happiness of his pretty widowed sister, Mrs Talfourd, whose manager, steward, superintendent, and bodyguard he had been for the last three years— in fact, ever since Tom Talfourd, Fighting Tom, Bully Talfourd, Mad Tom Talfourd (the region had many such names for him, and all of them appropriate) had left her a wealthy squattress, squattess, squattrix, or whatever the proper term may be, with only one child, the leases of two well-stocked cattle-runs, and as much purchased land as would have made a fair-sized duchy.

And here was this parson again ! It was quite understood by all the squatters about (including our squattrice) who subscribed to the Guarantee Fund, that the paraon was to come and minister to their spiritual wants once in the three months ; but here he was again just a fortnight after his previous visit, and with only an interval of three weeks between that and his first. Either the dwellers at Pyalong Station were a very bad lot, and sorely in need of spiritual repair, or else the Eev. Justin Mayhew had found something specially attractive about it. Now Harry Prosser, though not remarkably bright about anything beyond cattle, horses, and station matters generally, had nevertheless, partly by instinct and partly by reasoning, arrived at the conclusion that this ungainly parson had actually the impertinence (" blanked cheek,'' he called it) to raise his views to hi 3 sister. And what was worse still, Millicent did not seem inclined .to crush the reptile ; and though she hadi certainly manifested no inclination to take it to her bosom, she not only showed no aversion to it, but was indignant at the idea of treating it as a reptile at all. We have said that this aspect of the case was worse to Harry than the other, for he could break the parson's neck, but it waa out of the question to think of breaking his sister's. Meanwhile, the unconscious object of his threats was seated on the verandah of the bachelors' quarters, gazing abstractedly down the slope —at the foot of which stood the head station, in the midst of a tropical luxuriance of foliage and flowers, as fair a dwelling as the eye could wiah to see. He was a quiet-looking man, about thirty-six years of age— not by any means handsome, hiß whole structure giving the idea of elongation rather than talhiess, and with little in his appearance to mark him for distinction except a leonine head of tawny hair and a huge beard to match. To see the Reverend Juatin Mayhew smoking his clay pipe, and apparently watching the sunset purpling the roofs of the station, one would hardly have suspected that the quiet-looking parson was at that momemt fighting such a battle as to the eye of higher intelligences than oura may seem of more importance than a conflict of nations. It was a civil war, too— the war of a divided mind. Not an isolated battle, either ; but only one of the many that had been fought during a campaign of nearly fif ceen years — a campaign that had no winter quarters, no armistice, no regard of seasons, not even change of territory to vary it. He did not believe in the Infallibility of the Book ; but he came of a race of soldiers, and he could not bear the thought of deserting his post. Had his post been a pleasant one, had it involved riches and honours, he might have given it up long ere this. The very fact of sacrifice would have made him feel sure that he was doing right ; but an unpleasant and profitless burden he could not bo easily throw down, because the quitting of it seemed too like the desertion of duty for the sake of present indulgence. And just when he had quietly settled that he was a private soldier, and bound to do hia duty without reasoning why — like the lightning of battle's flash would come the question, " But what if it is all founded on a mistake ?" — and the whole conflict would have to be fought over again. Riches of talent, but such as could be turned to advantage only in a time of mental quietude, were stored up in him, but the moth of disuse and the rußt of neglect were wasting them away ; and he knew it, but could not help himself. He hung between falsehood and desertion. Fate seemed to have given him the choice of crucifying his intellect or crucifying his moral nature; and as he could do neither effectually, he only tortured them both by turns. No wonder some men said he was a very undecided sort of character. The truth is, there were large potentialities of decision in him, if he could only have got at a sure spiritual standpoint. He had powers to contend with, and for, that others knew not of ; and so he fought hia fight in his solitude, and went forth weak and weary among men ; and men laughed him to scorn for his weakness, not Knowing that he had

broken his strength in wrestling with angels. Think of a fight like that going on for twelve years ! And now a new element had entered into his life. For the first time Justin Mayhew had fallen in lov«. Harry Proaser was quite right in hii suspicions. The parson was as thoroughly in love as ever man was with woman. Perhaps more so. When he first saw and epoke to Mrs Talfourd, it seemed to him that he had all at once found something he had been leaving altogether out of account. After twelve years' fighting with himself, it was suddenly and beautifully borne in upon him that the heavenlier half of self was to be sought outside. In three weeks' time he came and looked on her again. He came with no presumptuous thought, offering nothing and asking nothing, but simply to gaze again upon what had wrought such a change on the whole complexion of his mind. It seemed as if the electric spark of love had fuzed the warring elements of his nature into something harmonious and distributively available. Mrs Talfourd herself, when they happened to be alone together, noticed the difference in him, in his voice, and in his speech ; and, to tell the plain truth, was far from insensible to a certain fascination in both, that touched her as belonging to a higher and truer world of attraction than the fulsome adulation which had become as stale to her ai it was unprofitablelto the offerers. And here he was a third time ! Within the last fortnight he had advanced a stage. He had discovered the real state of his mind, and the name for it. Certain accents ever repeating themselves in his memory, like sweetest music, awoke in him the knowledge that there is some' thing better in manhood than self-torture. With such a symphony to his thoughts, the thoughts themselves became rhythmic, and together they made the old old music that calls from heart to heart. But when Harry Prosser was swearing to break his neck, the fight within him had sprung up anew. As he looked down on the station under whose roof she was, at all the evidences of wealth and comfort, at all the beauty and the peace, came again the lightning of battle with the sudden question, " What if it is only » new form of temptation to desert the old post?" In this brief and rapid story we have not space for psychological analysis, bo we leave him to fight his battle out j only remarking that it is sometimes better to be carried away by a great temptation than to live between neutralized activities. The parson believes at present that he ii on the top of a high mountain, and that the devil is showing him all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them, and a superb face under a orown of golden hair more glorious than all. It is generally supposed that in this position a man must either accept or refuse. But there is a good working answer to the devil*, offer, which seems to have been too much overlooked. It is "Thanks, much obliged ; bub I'll try first if I can get them without your help." If the parson should happen to light on this alternative— —but what is the use of reasoning about it with* out taking the woman into account ? When Harry Prosser said, " Mark my words," it was merely a facon *<k parhr. There was no one by to mark them. He was returning alone from the stables when he espied the parson. His anger was kindled within him. x The only semblance of a quarrel that had ever taken place between himself and his sister had been on the subject of this man. He had spoken scornfully of him, and his sister had taken the parson's part— rather warmly for Harry's peace of mind, Indeed, so seriously did he look on it, that he had sent word to Hugh Hackett, a squatter who lived some twenty miles off, the only one of Millicent's many suitors whom Harry favoured, that he had better come soon and look after his .interests. Had he known her inmost heart as intimately as we are privileged to know it, he would have written with even greater earnestness. ' Hackett had arrived that very evening, and Harry had left him with Mrs Talfourd before going round to the stables. In another minute he had joined Mayhew on the verandah, and given him a welcome that had as little incivility as heartiness in it. He saw him to his room, suggested (( awaßh," and performed all other necessary hospitalities ; but, strange to say, did not give the slightest hint of his intention of breaking his neck. This is what he said ;—; — j"ls that your horse out there, Mr MayhewT "It is. I'm sorry to say he seems a little lame." " Lame ! By Jove, I should think he is ! Are you going to give him a. spell - here?" "I.must go on to Tinaroo to-mor*ow — if I have to go on foot. I have promised to baptize a child there.'* " You can't go on that horse, Mr May- - hew, and you can't go on foot: We'll mount you all right. . . . . John 1" John appeared from the hut hardJby, and taking his pipe from his mouth, remarked, "Yea sir." " Where's Tearaway ?"' "Down hy One-Tree Flat, sir." " Get him up into the bull-paddoosr now, and have him in the lane to-morrow morning." " Anyone going to ride him sir ?" "Yes." "But " The rest of John's sentence was stopped with something very like a wink from Harry. Chapter 11. Meanwhile down in the house, a Udjr young, beautiful, and rich ; who might

have been seen but a few moments ago j romping with her little boy, as brighthearted as he— was being brought to teel as if the sun were blotted from the Heavens, the of the earth lbosened— everything, everything, turning to ''misery and Bhame. 'It was not 'the baptism of sorrow. She h'ad'gone through that long ago, when she had first discovered that the man whom shs-had married with a girl's admiration ' of physical strength and daring, waa little better' than a brute. She had known that he had led a wild life— that be had been'married before, and under circumstances that only headstrong youth and maddening drink could excuse ; but she thought that she had tamed the wild beast,"and was proud of her conquest. No tfoman ever made a more miserable snieikke. ' But until a few minutes ago it seemed even the effects of it, so far 'as evil vf& ebneerned, were gone for ever. The dead man had only spoiled two years of her life after all. She was still young ; she had a lovely boy, health, wealth, beauty,' and a joyous disposition, not to jftentiori a brother whom she loved as Kerself. !:: Millicent Taifourd might well fcHaiik God night' and morning with a hfear^f a^overflowing as her cup of life. ''"WhoTao 1 stricken as Millicent now ? She Had' sent her boy outi, and was seated alolie with Hackett in the drawing-room. Hackett, looking, at her with, his cold, hard eye", began to doubt if grief enhances beauty. ' Sometimes it does, but not the ; gnef that 1 comes, allied to shame. Grief, terror, 'and shame were all depicted on MiUic'ent's'face and'attitude,as>he tugged nervoilsly at the leathern belt round her ■waist, keeping* her fear-stricken eye all th'Hwhile'on her'cruer interlocutor. • This man V This man whom she had tefu'sedj again and again, seeing but too 'plainly : that he was just' such another as her late husband, only more deeply and quietly" 'cruel 1 ! This man whom but receStly'sie h^d : publicly subjected to a marked rebuff, in order to put a final termination.' to his persistent attentions— tn'is'man had her and her boy in his power Y^ I\k handsome man was Hugh Hackett— tall, 1 well-built, clean-limbed, and withal having J a' fine face. A smart militarytdpk'ing^man, with dark hair, and darkr pointed moustache, but with a cold beady eye that had in it tb.ft cruel hardness' of a ms'W prey. He was reputedly well off, .J&d Worshipped Millicent for years, and vfas 1 , Worshipped ,by her brother as the Wav r ideal of all' that 1 was knightly in nature,' and sage in experience ; and there $&£' realty, no patent reason why Milli'"should not accept him, save that her .previous' yentu're had 'taught her to prize chaW&ier 'above appearance and circum- . > etaHce v s, : and to resolve that her boy's second' father, if ; h'e' should have one; rtuW'be/ pre-eminently a 'worthy man. Si f fhov^cbuld she' escape him now? '^VWhatf* understood all this, MilliceW v - ■'.■,. :, '■' ' ; She started at the .familiarity. It was tiieTfirst time he had ventured on it. Nothing 'he had' yet' said made her so realize', the^hange, in 'their position as ttiis: "" %-, '■ \-.J- " .''- ■■'„ ' "Will it jbenecessary for me to repeat < the' circumstances?" he asked, receiving no' auWer to; his former question. • ."'OH,' no,! No! For Heaven's sake spare me !"'T have heard enough," cried the trembling lady, ' .cowering more' than ever'beferehim; .:\ ■ . 4 • have noi'yet signified your „ asMtt(?my 'terms. With your leave I • wiligo over the matter again. Besides, . vj^e^ot'two' things have led me to suspect ■ "that you but vaguely know the parts of •'VthG story you professed to be acquainted with." Shall Igo over it?'. 1 . . Millieent?" . \ f ' . ' , ,'Agaw^h^e 1 Btarted. • • Nothing, matters now. -, t «..»,. .-^'rSjay! Who' knows but *?|f&y,ih|i^'*rinust needs begin at the beginning.*'^l : 'WAs"'.present at your husband's first r^ar"r,iage. It was at Binnora, the'liWther^i-^taiiPn' that he - ? sold to me years»go.^^^jand : ]:;and several other hot-headed l'^^uth'si'V^ } nt-acn t - ac kitchen. TKe fact thas«n'e';pf Me ! servants— a lovely glrly b^'the,wo— w,as to be married thatevening,'waa'sufijelent excuse, to us for a regular, night o£ r taiiarule. There waa no longerV&istinc'tidft between master and servant. "Even the clergyman cast a leni-

enti eye pn our carousals! Only, the bridegrpoii*" had <tiofc\ i arrived ; and two '^kSuts after iihe time fixed for the cere'l<;asbny there was still no signs of him. At ' : iJaffll Talfourd seeing the girl crying, and ..iitfviflil.aljyays'bad a great liking for her, ■ :jmi f^ost^ I need hardly state, intoxi'./caiie^j&nfted'up and 1 declared that, bewould see a .pretty girl shamed he. would marry her himself. - Thftre^faa^'no difficulty with the par- :-, son,. ;^n3s|hejr were married there and E&foen, \?M&bi* afterwards Mrs" Tal/'•j^urd/wWifdft in the bush. Search <: \paj?tis& vfe^^ip'u^ in all directions for ,weeks}/b'uVW%out finding any trace of ■ " nijr; V At'length^about' eighteen months ■after her disappearance, the skeleton of a E %>man was found. in u a, scrub three miles' , - or bo from Blnnora. :^ne or two articlon fV of jewellery— especially one ring— found , ,t),esideit, left 'no doubt as to whose the 'tfe^nains' were : j aud after due enquiry, ' - i :thj?y, were buried, and the place is marked • by .a tombstone bearing tho name of Judith "• 'Taifourd." ■- \ '■';: ! •',". Then you did, lie when you told me ! sh : e vra's Btill,alive !" cried Mrs Taifourd, springing up. " What is the meaning of this outrage? How dare " ■ I-^ Stay, Millicent," he said, calmly. *'J»et vi speak gently. NW that your

honour is in my keeping, I will be as joalous for it as you can be. Those remains were not those of Judith Taifourd. " I believe they were. It was I who came upon them accidently. I rode off at once to Taifourd. Returning together to the spot we found the remains of a woman's shoe, one or two hairpins, and such like, but nothing by which we could identify the skeleton. Taifourd had doubts about the shoe. But I believed, and he tried to persuade himself, that these were the bones of his lost wife ; and seeing that otherwise we were both persuaded she was dead, and as I was anxious my friend should be delivered from the galling position of being unable to marry without proof of his first wife's death, I myself suggested the placing of certain articles known to be hers beside the remains. I spare you certain little details of ingenuity by which we secured our point. I only wish you to believe that when we buried what was left of the woman, /at least believed myself to be afc the funeral of Judith Taifourd. It was I who furnished the account of the circumstances to tho newspapers, which I understand you saw at the time. " Fow, let me put the position in a few words. Judith Taifourd is alive. In daily fear of her life from his violence, she had fled from her husband. In her wanderings she fell in with an old friend, who, in ignorance of what had taken place, ,wooed, won, and married her. This happened while Taifourd was yet alive." At this point there was a quiver of interruption in Millicent's awful fixity of gaze. A little light of ■ hope seemed to dawn on her, Again she balf rose. "One moment, " she gasped out. * 'Would you have me to believe that a reckless woman such as this would keep silence all these years, when she might command wealth at any time ? Would such a one not make a point of getting at, and using the fact, that Mr Taifourd died intestate V il Poor Millicent !" whispered Hackett, with cruelly-affected pity at her simplicity. " There is severe punishment for bigamy. Besides, she loves her husband, and he does not know. Best assured she will not speak. The danger for you lies elsewhere. If my lovo for you, Millicent, continues to be despised and soorned, I cannot 'promise to be so -reticent as she. For Heaven's sake, remember how near akin are hate and love, il is because I hare of late felt myself moied to revenge that I have rushed to you U» implore you to save yourself from me by giving yourself'to me. Think of it, Millicent. Think of your position. Think of your boy. Answer me before I put the case more cruelly. Spare me the pain of using formal threats to the woman I love better than my 03ti soul I" ■ "Where is she now 1" " She and her so-called husband are at my station. I have given them the outBtation to keep." " Mr Hackett, you brought them there on purpose. You have been deliberately working towards this." " I own it ; though it wa3 accident that brought me' across them a few days ago, as much to my surprise as hers, and it is only by tacit compact that she iB at my bidding. . ■ . • ' But you are well worth .deliberately working for, Millicent," he ' said, drawing hia chair nearer her, and laying his hand on her arm. But she threw it off, and flinging herself back in her chair, sobbed out, "God deliver me from the snares of the fowler." " There is really no cause for sorrow, or fear, 'or for any waste of emotion whati ever, Millicent. My offer ia a perfectly fair one. Instead of taking revenge— you ! know for what— l offer you perfect security. All I ask is a still better right_ to guard and protect you. Between Judith, yourself' and me, the secret is perfectly safe. She is wholly in my power, fearing nothing so much a^s exposure. . . Millicent, is it to be yes or no ?" " Are you perfectly sure it is the same woman?" asked the poor victim, still struggling to avert the truth— for truth she believed it to be, chiefly because it harmonized, alas, only too well, with cer-tain-vague threats with which her late husband, in hi 3 moments of violence, had been wont to vary the monotony of blasphemy. "Did your husband happen to leave any likeness of Judith Taifourd V asked Hackett. Be seemed to have a fiendish delight in giving the full name, as if to impress Millicent with the unreality of her own claim to it, Mrs Taifourd unlocked a writing-desk, and producing an old and somewhat faded photograph from it, laid ifc before him. " If it is possible for you to, have any doubt as to what I tell you," resumed Hackett, also producing' a photograph from an envelope, "this ought to set it at rest. You observe the likeness, the identity, yourself. This was taken but a lew days before she cawe to my place. You can easily see that such slight difference as there is, is only what time would work. Are you convinced, Millicent 1" And again he touched her hand. i But the action only maddened her — for a moment. ■ - " I am ! I am 1 Let her be Judith Taifourd ! I will give up everything ! Harry will not fail me ! i o youi worst ! Do your worst !" ' • But the door at this moment unexpectedly opened, and a sweet childish voice was heard saying, "Mamma, may I come in yet T Hackott instantly tobb, pushed the door to, and turned the key in the lock. When he returned, Mrs Taifourd was bending over the arm of a sofa,, hysterically ejaculating— " My boy ! I foul forgotten

my boy ! If it— must be— it is for my boy !" (To he continued. )

A COLONIAL TALE-IN SIX CHAPTERS.