§Moteatf& THE NOVELIST.

Otago Witness, Issue 1586, 15 April 1882, Page 25

§Moteatf&

THE NOVELIST.

By E. Hudson.

Author of ' Brokou Fetters,' • The Goldio3 of Golden Terrace,' ' The Heir of Thorwell Manor,' &c.

(Specially written for the Witness.)

Chapter XI.

All this Is neither my coat nor my cake : ■ Why vex myself with other meu'g charges? Tho fishes swim at ease in the lake, And take no thought of tho banres. —Goethe; Carlylo's Translation. Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me ~ "" " yself Marina. —Pericles, Prince of Tyre. REIVED at Mrs Alton's, the two girls found the house in confusion. They were ushered into the drawing-room, where they discovered Mrs Alton, flushed and excited, even to the extent of sitting upright on her lounge, talking angrily to a respectablelooking elderly woman who Btood before her crying bitterly, and getting in a word edgewise as Mrs Alton paused for breath in the midst of her angry torrent of words. The girls shrank back, and would have retreated; but their hostess seeing them cried, ' Come in, my dears, come in, and see what a lady has to put up with in the colonies. 1 Thus adjured, they advanced, followed by Mr Alton, who had just entered the house. 'What is the matter, mother?' he inquired, glancing from her' to her victim. ■ '-This is the matter,' cried his mother ; ' you know it is only a week since I engaged Jane Mann to wait upon me ; you know what an excellent' character this woman (who calls herself Jane's mother) gave her. Indeed, I thought I had a treasure in her— the hypocrite. But she shall be well punished for it, that she shall.' 'What has Jane done?' asked Mr Alton, quietly. ' Got blind drunk in my room, and on my own cordial medicino,' retorted his mother,, her wrath blazing forth afresh at the remembrance. ' Her mother conies this afternoon, — Jane cannot be found. Going into my bedroom, there I see her stretched insensible before open door of the little press, which I always keep strictly locked. She knew what it contained : for I was taken ill the other day, and obliged to send her to it for a dose ; and she must have stolen the key out of my work box. It is only,' continued Mrs Alton, turning to the girls,—' it is only by Dr Emdy's stria; orders that I can force myself to take the medicine ; but mv constitution is so extremely delicate, that without an occasional stimulaU I should soon cease to exist.' The lady's wiath was giving way to Ipr usual prudonce. Shu was beginning to wish Kenneth and her visitora had boeu kept in ignorance of that pred.3 : little did they imagine how well stocked it was, or how often its mistress resorted to it. '

'And where is Jane now ' inquired Mr Allon.

' Lying .like a log in the passage ; they could drag her no farther. I have sent for a policeman. Of all vices, I detest and abhor drunkenness, and am determined to mako an example of Jane.' Here the poor mother's sobs broke forth afresh.

'Oh ! ma'am— Oh ! sir,' she cried, 'if you would only pass it over, and let me take her home! It's not her fault. She was as good and modest a girl, till she was sixteen, as ever you saw ; but then she caught the fever, and the doctor gave her scarce anything but spirits —kept her half-drunk like the whole time. She got well ;— I wish she had died : for ever since she has been a changed creature, seeming to live for nothing else but to get drunk as often as she can. But after the, last bout she was so penitent, and promised so hard to turn over a new leaf if I'd let her go to service like ether girls, that I yielded. And now, if she's sent to gaol' it will ruin her entirely, it will ; and she's only twenty, she is,' indeed,— and so pretty,' sobbed the poor woman. , Mr Allon's brow contracted, but he knew with whom he had to deal. | ' Mother,' he said, in a low tone, ' are you 'aware that if you give this girl in charge, you ■will have to go to the Police Court to-morrow morning to appear against her, — and the Court is not a nice place, especially this weather ?'

Mrs Allon recoiled. She had not considered,, jthat ; and the very thought of the maladies she might contract in such contaminated air made .her feel in need of a restorative. Yet she was junwilling to abandon her revenge. j ' Could not you attend, instead of me ?' she 'asked.

■ ' Certainly not. I know nothing but what' you have told me, and hearsay evidence is ' Well, well,' was the impatient reply, ' get .the girl out of the house, and never let me see. her again. This has quite upset me.', ■ And as Mr Allon and Jane's mother left the room, she sank back among the pillows, her usual languid self again. , ' I am so vexed you should have had such a reception,' she drawled, addressing the two girls, who had stood by during the above scene, — Australia absorbed in sympathy for the unhappy mother ; Mary Jane chiefly occupied in giving surreptitious glances at herself in the chimney-glass, and wondering whether she was making an impression on Mr Allon. ' It is so kind of you,' continued their hostess, ' to come and spend an evening with such a sad invalid as I am. But I would not tax your good-nature top far : I have asked Mrs Hencke and her unmarried daughter . to meet you. She is a widow, and her daughter is considered a sweetly pretty girl; though I must confess her beauty is scarcely my style.' ' I am sorry to hear you are such aninyalid;' remarked Australia, as the other paused,to take breath. ,

' Ah ! my dear,'— closing her eyes, and attempting to shake her head, half buried in cushions ; ' people little imagine what I suffer. I never was one to talk about myself; and as long as you do not complain, people think you must be all rights But' — closing her eyes again — 'no one would believe what I go through daily. Sometimes for a week together lam quite unable to preside at table. It is fortunate this is one of my good days.'

' That must make it pretty dull for Mr Allon ;' suggested Mary Jane, feeling very muoh bored herself.

' Ye-es,' hesitated the lady, evidently thinking commiseration was being bestowed upon the wrong person ;: 'but Kenneth is always so wrapped up in his musty law business that it does not make much difference to him. He is a good son, my dear, as sons go ; but he does not understand me ; and it is so hard not to be understood. Ah! it was different with his poor papa and brother, — '

A slight stir caused them to look up. Mr Allon was standing close behind them. Sure that he had overheard, Australia felt embarrassed for him. Gifted with quick penetration, she had already fathomed the shallow, selfish character of Mrs Allon, and had, or thought she had, obtained a glimpse of a far nobler nature in her son. However, at that moment the remaining guests were announced. Mrs Hencke was a large fair woman, in black silk, her fair hair— without as yet a thread of silver, though she was over fifty — smoothed under her widow's cap, and an exceedinglysweet' expression on her pleasant face. Gertrude, her. daughter, won Australia's heart at once. She : had a passionate love of beauty ; and Gertrudei was beautiful—more so than anyone Australia! had ever seen. It was not merely, the beautyi of a dazzlingly fair complexion, and golden! hair, contrasted with the dark eyebrows and deep violet eyes. Gertrude's was an intellectual face— more, it was a good face, with' truth and nobleness impressed upon every feature.

The dinner was not punctual, and Mrs Allon filled up the interval of waiting by detailing the late scene, and it lost nothing in the process. Mr Allon said nothing then, but later he privately solicited Mrs Hencke's interest in the case. And that lady, whose quiet unobtrusive benevolence was unwearied, readily promised to do all in her power to save the unfortunate girl. ' Though I am not sanguine of success,' she said ; ' I see daily evidence of the ail-but irresistible power of that vice over its victims, especially among women".' ' Patient waiting brings many blessings ! It brought the dinner at length. That meal was neither well cooked nor well served ; and Mrs Allon, like the generality of incompetent housekeepers, laid the blame on the servants, declaring— I have not seen a good one since I left Home. Commend me to colonial servants for incapacity, impudence, and independence. Not one of them will wear a cap, and they all think themselves as good as their mistress, and let her know it. No wonder either; no less than five who were once in my service, are now married, and keep servants themselves. One of them keeps two ! Ah ! it was different at Home;' and closing her eyes, Mrs Allon heaved a sigh for lost blessings. The cook's failures did not affect her, as she dined off potatoes and milk, and rice pudding. Always full of whims concerning her health, the latest fancy was that vegetarianism was the specific for all the ' ills that flesh is heir to ;' and she not only adopted it herself, but would have enforced it on Mr Allon and the servants, had they been submissive enough.

' I consider, my dear, that it is the first and greatest duty of all people to take care of their own health ;' she said impressively, addressing Australia ; who remarked quietly, ' It is no doubt a duty ; but don't you think there are many cases in which it ceases to be the principal one ?' ' I cannot imagine such a case,' said Mrs Allon, speaking the truth, she could not. ' But, my dear, you are not talcing your wine,' added the hostess, who was consuming her own full share.

' Thank you, I prefer water ;' was the repiy. ' You must know, Mrs Allon,' struck in Miry Jane, ' that Lia is a staunch teetotaller — nothing will tempt her to touch wine or spirits ; one would think she was afraid. She

and the " Hermit of Snake's Hollow " are the only teetotallers we have up country. ' Hermit of Snakes' Hollow!' cried Gertrude Hencke, ' what a name ; who is he ?' ' A retired bushranger, I should say, were it not for his temperance mania. He is one of Orcesus Caryll's shepherds. Us lives alone, near to Snakes' Hollow, and shun-, other people so that they have dubbed him the^ hermit.' 1 How strange, what is he liko ?' ' That is more than I can tell you. Not one of us has seen him, except Pa, and he only two pr three times. But we hearof him often. Our men can't understand his teetolalism ; they put it down to an unquiet conscience.' | 'I look upon total abstaners as monomafiiacs ;' remarked Mrs Allon, sipping her wine with great satisfaction. ' For the lower orders fceetotalism is quite proper ; but well-bred people should practice moderation in all things.' f ' But that is what they cannot always do ;' Baid Australia, diffidently, yet earnestly. * I have known more than one such case.' ! ' And do you think your abstaining is going to help such an one to resist temptation ?' inquired Mrs Allon, in a tone that implied she did not think so. I ' I do not know;' said Australia humbly, j € but certainly by taking wine would not.' Mrs Allon shrugged her shoulders ; she was not accustomed to weigh the influence of her Jactions on those around her. j ' I have not thought much on the total abstinence question,' remarked Kenneth. ' I ararely take wine myself. In this climate a Wan who has much brain-work must be tem<perate if he would retain his reason.' ! ' I believe the use of alcohol is the cause of : far more insanity than is at all suspected,' said >Mrs Hencke. ' ... { 4 Indeed it is. I was conversing with an asylum doctor on that subject the other day ; and was astonished when he told nic the large percentage of cases directly or indirectly attributable to the use of stimulants.' ' Oh, for goodness' sake, Kenneth ; cried his 'mother, to whom the conversation had taken ■a most unpalatable turn, 'don't get talking •about lunatics ; nothing makes me more nervous. None of us are likely to suffer through i intemperance ; and why need we concern our.'selves about such a wretched, subject. Whattever happens to drunkards richly serves them jright— as I told Jane's mother this afternoon.' ,And so, dismissing the subject, Mrs Allon led } the way from the room, j Do you know,' she said, when they were back sin the drawing-room, and she was established ;to her satisfaction on her lounge. 'Do you jknow, Miss Leah, my son declares he must shave seen you before, or someone very like iyou, though he cannot remember where. You ihave no relatives in Australia, besides your ■parents and sister, I suppose?' ' Not that I am aware of,' replied Australia, colouring. The painful uncertainty concerning her parentage was an ever-present trouble. • 'Ah,' reflected Mrs Allon, 'and it could not have been in England ; we had a large circle of of acquaintances there, but I do not remember the name of Smythe among them.' ' Is it long since you came out ? inquired Mary Jane. ' My dear, it is eighteen years.' ' And do you remember England.' ' Eemember it ! yes indeed. Ah ! I little thought when I left its shores what was before me.' . - ' I mean to make the tour of Europe during my honeymoon,' interrupted Miss Marie, quickly, having no mind to listen to a further recital of Mrs Allon's woes. 'I am wild to see Paris and London.' ' Have you never seen London ? Then, said her hostess, turning to Australia, ' you were born out here. I should not have thought it ; you have nothing colonial about it.' This was meant as a compliment. 'No she was not,' struck in Mary Jane. ' Lia was born at sea ; and as I tell her, ought to love it like a sailor ; but she hates it— at least she hates to be on ic' 'Ah ! ' sighed Mrs Allon, with her favourite shake of the head, and closing of the eyes ; 'if Miss Leah had the cause I have, she would be justified in hating the sea. It swallowed up my poor dear husband and my eldest son. Ah ! if you had known Francis ! he was so bright, so clever, and so handsome,— not in the least like Kenneth. He took after me, and I was the belle of the London season before my marriage. I remember yet the compliments I received when I was presented at court. Everyone told me I threw myself away on poor, dear Mr Allon ; but I was young, then, my dears, and foolish. He was the handsomest man ! and a divine dancer. He certainly was selfish, but then all men are selfish— it comes natural to them;— yet I was brokenhearted when I lost him ; and in such a terrible manner too. Ah ! what an awful time that was.' Mrs Allon might have maundered on in this fashion for half the evening ; for she loved to be the centre of the company at aaltl t times, but her son's entrance broke up the circle of the hearers. Australia noticed how grave Mrs Hencke had grown, as if the topic were painful ; and now in evident relief, she turned to her daughter, saying, ' Dot, my dear, are we not to have any music this evening?' As Gertrude moved to the piano, she caught an amused look from Australia. • You are thinking of the " Dot," I see,' she remarked, smiling. ' I confess,' said Australia, glancing up at the tall and stately young lady before her, ' that I thought it rather inappropriate.' ' It was my baby name ; no one uses it now, except mamma sometimes. But,' she continued, with a laugh, ' I consider it prettier than yours. What a pity your friends christened you Leah ; if they must have had a Scripture name, there are plenty prettier than that.' ( She was never christened Leah,' cried Mary Jane, from the piano, where she was turning over the pile of music, ' she was christened Australia; we call he Lia for short.' 'Australia,' exclaimed Mr Allon with a start, ' may I ask how she came by that name ? ' 'Shallltell,,Lia?' ' If you like,' answered Australia, flushing painfully. ' Her mother came out in the vessel with us, and died when Lia was born, and as no one knew what to call her they named her after the ship, which happened to be the Australia,' explained Mary Jane. Mr Allon, grasping his young visitor's hands in his, turned to the sofa; his quiet face kindling with excitement. ' Mother, don't you see ? ' he cried, ' how blind we have been not to find it out before. This is the child whom the Smiths adopted ; and you,' turning to Miss Marie, 'must bo little' Mary Jano.' That young lady sighed resignedly ; fate, in the shape of Mary Jane Smith seemed destined to haunt Marie Smythe !

' The likeness which puzzled me is explained now,' continued Mr Allon, addressing Australia. 'It was your mother of whom you reminded mo. [ cannot tell you how glad lam to have found you. Mother do you understand ? '

Now Mi\3 Allon was decidedly $\t a non-plus. To lind that she hnd received in her own house, on ;i footirr of equality, tho daughter of parents who had been— the one a farm labourer, and the other a servant, and who had come out as steerage passengers in the very same ship

which was honoured with her own presence in the saloon, considerably shocked her ideas of the fitness of things. However a moment s reflection told her that, whatever Mr Smith had been, he was the rich squatter ; and therefore, when Kenneth coased speaking, she was ready with profuse congratulations. But in her secret heart she registered this as another grudge owing to the unfortunate ' colonies ' — the only place where such a contretemps could possibly liaye occurred. Mrs Hencke and Gertrude joined in the congratulations. The two girls acquired new interest in their eyes, through being associated with that sad event in their lives. Later, when the excitement had subsided, and Mary Jane and Gertrude were at the piano, Australia found the opportunity for which she had been waiting, to ask a question she had been unwilling to, put publicly. IMr Allon,' she said anxiously; 'anyone inquiring for me was referred to your office. Were any such inquiries ever made?' ' They never were,' he said, gently. ' I was about to ask you if you had ever heard anything of your relations.' , ' No,' she sighed ; ' nothing. I feel sometimes that I would do or give anything to know who I am.'

'It is natural ; but you must not let it fret you. My belief is that your father is dead — that he died before we reached Melbourne. Of one thing I am certain — your mother was a good woman.' Australia turned a look of ■ gratitude on him.

' And I am like her ?' she said, eagerly.

' You are her image. But about your own life— how have Smith and his wife fulfilled their voluntary duty ?' 4 They have fulfilled it nobly,' cried Australia, her eyes shining with gratitude. ' They have treated me as their own child. You see lam to Mary Jane as a sister. When I conconsider what my fate might have been I cannot feel too grateful.' ' I am exceedingly glad to hear this. Your mother interested me strongly, and I have often thought of her child, wondering how you were being taken care of.' ' ' Oh, if I could but remember her !' sighed Australia. ' You know now, Mr Allon, why I am a total abstainer. How could I enjoy that which made me an orphan ? But for that nurse's intemperance my dear mother might have been with me now.'

At the thought it needed all Australia's self-control to keep back her tears. Noting her emotion, Mr Allon turned the subject. ' Do you know what became of "the Griffin"?' he asked. 'The Griffin?' Kenneth laughed. 'It was the name he went by in the ship. Dr Gryffyths, I should have said.' ' Oh, I have heard father say that he left the diggings in disgust at the end of the first twelvemonths, and went as doctor in a vessel bound for California. Nothing has been heard of him since to my knowledge.'

'He was a character,' said Mr ' Allon, smiling ; ' but a very kindhearted one.' 'Have the Hencke's been out here long?' asked Australia, watching Gertrude at the piano. ' Six or seven years. Ever since the wreck I had corresponded with Mrs Hencke at intervals, and she, not being in very prosperous circumstances, emigrated, thinking that her son would have a better chance of making his way in the world out here. He is cashier in the Bank of , and the eldost daughter, Margaret, is well married. There is only Gertrude at home now.'

' She seems a nice girl. How beautiful she is, and — how well she plays.' 'Yes, Gertrude has a decided talent for music. When she has finished, will not you sing something ?' ' How do you know I can sing ?' Mr Allon regarded her with an amused looked.

' I am unable to prove it legally,' he said ; ' but I feel sure you can. Miss Marie, however, had seated herself at the instrument, and now summoned Mr Allon to turn the leaves. The piece she had selected was brilliant and difficult, requiring a finished musician to do it justice. However, by keeping the forte" pedal down the whole time, and skipping two or three hard passages, she got through it to her entire satisfaction. 'Now,' said Mr Allon, turning to Australia.

' Am I to sing that ?' she asked, as he placed a sheet of music before her. 'Yes, if you can.' ' It is one of my favourites.' ' And of mine, was the reply. But he had never before heard it sung as it was now. Australia's voice was simply perfect. Sho sang with a power and sweetness, unmarred by the least effort or affectation, that enthralled her audience. A quiet ' thank you ' was all she received from Mr Allon as the echo of her last note had died away into silence ; but his glanco spoke for him, and she was satisfied. 'One more; only one more,' begged Gertrude Hencke.

But Australia, smiling, shook her head. 'Miss Primrose was to send for us at nine,' she said. 'It is upon the stroke now, and — punctuality, there is Lizzie,' as a knock came to the door. ' What a glorious night !' exclaimed Australia, as they emerged from the house. 'It will be a pleasure to walk home.' But they were not destined to walk, for as she spoke the pony-carriage drove up to the gate. ' Oh, Mr Allon,' she said, reproachfully, ' you should not have done that. Indeed, I am quite well able to walk.' But Mr Allon only laughed. ' Good-bye,' he said, as they drove off. ' I hope this is but the commencement of many pleasant evenings.' And Australia's heart echoed the wish.

As they rolled home through the brilliant moonlight she, though apparently listening to Miss Marie's copious comments on the evening, was mentally revolving a certain question. ' Gertrude Hencke loves Mr Allon. Doos he care for her ?'

And no conclusion could sho come to ; but not a word said she to Mary Jane.

Chapter XII.

A palo and haggard man, bearing 1 tho title of ' reverend,' stands at Iho bar of his church. .Not daring to look up, ho bendy there, with his head buried in his hands, blushes on his face, his li]) 3 quivering, and a hell raging, burning within him, as ho thinks of homo, a broken-hearted wife, and the little ones so soon to leave thai ilear swcot homo, to shelter their innocent heads wliero, all beggared and disgraced,

In this dec]

darkness has &ec

they may. ... p..i.-for — ..i.for over a brilliant college career. Alas ! what an end to the solomu day of ordination, and tho bright day of marriage, and all those Sabbaths, when an affectionate 1 people hut.g on his eloquent lips ! Oh ! if this sacred office, if the constant handling of thiny.s divine, if hours of Bilcnt study spent over the Word of God, tf frequent scenes of deaih, with ttieir moat awful and sobering solemnities, if fcho iiremediablo mill iut) which "iloffia'Jation from tho holy oilieo liluir.'oi a man, aiul his houi-o dlo'h: with him, if tli« ufi-spesik.tblo iwiimu'-iiß'Ss of this iuii in one wlio hei.i tiio post of a feoiidinel, and was charsjed witli the care of souls— if these do riot fortify aud fence us against exceas, then in the name of God. 'let him that

thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fa]V— Thomas Quthne, D.D.

And the very next week brought an invitation to the girls from Mrs Hencko. Mr Allon was there, of course, and one or two friends of the Hencke's ; among them a Mr Augustus Caryll, a young ' gentleman with a very nice moustache, but no brains to speak of. Hewas the son of Croesus Caryll, whose run adjoined Emu Flat. Old Caryll was a squatter, but had several 'irons in the fire' besides; a brewery , being one— and Gus had a situation in it; he had to earn the scanty allowance which his father grudged him. But Gus had long ago found that he need not want money ; there were plenty eager to lend to the son and heir of Croesus Caryll. Gus was a friend of Fritz Hencke. Australia liked Fritz ; indeed, no one could help it, he possessed such a courteous, - gentlemanly manner, and bright, genial disposition ; and was withal so handsome. Tall and . slender, he looked not much over twenty-one,' • though in reality four years older. But, even on that evening, Australia's rare gift of reading character, revealed to her the one flaw in his want of stability. In truth Fritz, though the. best son, and kindest-hearted fellow in the, world, had yet given his friends no small' anxiety, through the facility with which he would yield to temptation. He was his mother's idol, and Gertrude's pride ; they never, wearied of praising him to whoever would listen. And next to him, in Mrs Hencke's esti-, raaftion. stood Mr Allon. He had been, and was, she confided to' Australia, the "guide,' philosopher, and friend' of her, son, standing •to him in the place of an elder brother. ' , ' And'a great thing it is, my dear,' said she, 'to have such a friend ; one whom he can look ( up to, and upon whose judgment he , can rely [ ,in any emergency. There are not c many like, , my Fritz, but having been so early deprived of; his father, a friend such as Kenneth Allon has been emphatically a "godsend " to him.' J ' ' ', . And Australia, as from her quiet corner, sne 1 observed Mr Allon, felt that Mrs Hericke/s encomiums were just. Hejwas a man to be trusted! The lad Kenneth— long-limbed and rather straggling, with his sensitive and enthusiastic temperament, his stern sense of duty and honour, and his resolute will — had merged into the man Kenneth, with his muscular frame,' and strongly marked, bearded face, which could yet, upon occasions, light up with almost the old boyish enthusiasm. The will was strong, the sense of duty and honour as keen as ever ; but Australia saw, unwillingly," that there was, half unconsciously, growing ud, a certain pride and trust in himself,— something of the spirit, as he looked back upon hi 3 life's work, which animated the heathen monar.cn when he exclaimed, 'Is not this great Babylon which /have built.' " ,

Australia's corner, however, was soon invadod, and her observations interrupted by Gertrude, who carried her off to the piano. where she again entranced her audience with ' her rare and cultivated voice. And here, if the indulgent reader will but pardon the .digression, it may be as well to explain how, it came to be cultivated, seeing that the lastiweek or two were the first Australia had ever spent at school. For the first eight or nine years, of her existence the constant moving about, f,rpm one ' rush ' to another, had made school an jmpossibility. Indeed, few of the places boasted such an institution, and in those comparatively old-established townships that did, the Smith's never staid long enough to make it worth while sendingtheirchildren. But within that time both girls had, somehow or other, learned to read, and write too, after a fashion. Mary Jane was really ' sharp,' as her mother phrased it ; and Australia's energies had been spurred by the hope |of possessing her mother's Bible, which Mrs Smith had often shown her, with the promise that it should be hers to keep as soon as she could read it. And it was at length delivered to her, with rr?any charges to take care of it, in case of its leading to the discovery of her parentage. The caution was needless j to this day that little well-worn ■ volume is amongst her most sacred treasures. Australia read it at first because it had belonged to her mother, and naturally fond of reading, it was almost ,the only* book she possessed ; but afterwards it was read for its own sake. It was nearly the only religious instruction she obtained ; not that the Smiths were irreligious — only careless. And living out in the bush, far from 'the sound of the church-going bell,' with nothing to mark Sunday from other days,, it is astonishing how easy carelessness becomes. It had happened (as we have seen), and more than once, that all on the station lost count of the days, and the Saturday's cleaning had been gone through on the Sunday. But to do Mrs Smith justice, the discovery had greatly scandalised her, causing her to be more careful in the future. For the first year after they settled at Emu Flat, the question of ' schooling' for the girls was constantly discussed. Mrs Smith had set her heart on making Mary ,Jane a 'lady,' and how she sapiently argued, could that end be attained, unless the child was taught to dance, play the piano, and talk French. But Mr Smith, honest man, though well able to hold his own in a bargain concerning land, stock, or the hiring of farm servants, felt no inclination to hunt up schools, and beard the lioness in her den— otherwise, the lady principal in her private parlour. ' And as for governesses, Mary, lass,' he said one morning as he mounted the loaded dray, bound on his half-yearly visit to Melbourne, ' why, I shouldn't know the right article if I saw it, should just have to take her word ; and a blind bargain like that would never come to good. No, no, my girl, just believe that the station won't vanish while you're away, and go to Melbourne and drive your own bargain. I promise to take you at Christmas.' But Mr Smith was not called upon to redeem his promise. He had finished his business in Melbourne, and was well on his way home, accompanied by the new stock driver, which it had been part of his business to hire. It was midnight, but they still pushed on, being now within a few hours of home, which, after a fortnight's absence, Mr Smith was anxious to reach. It was a glorious night, late in' July. They were marching through open country ; the forest, from which they had lately emerged, lying in black shadow to their left. High overhead, in illimitable space, swam the full moon, flooding tho whole ' country with a radiance almost as bright as day. Fleecy clouds flecked the dark-blue sky, now concealing, now revealing the larger constellations which shone through the frosty air, with an almost undimmed lustre, despite the presence of their rival, the 'bonny Lady Moon.' It was a wild, uncultivated part of the country, and its denizens had not yet learned to shun the approach of man. In the distance groups of kangaroos were cropping the dewy herbage ; while stately emus stalked solemnly and ghostlike across the bright patches of moonlight, to disappear in the dark shadow of the trees. Several times the travellers caught sight of the curious lyre bird, his beautiful tail erected, as, scratching the gravel with his feet, he imitated all tho sounds he had ever heard. One, which had evidently lived near some Irat or station, was imitating the sharpening of a saw with such fidelity as to set the listeners' teeth on udge. As tho dray creaked (-.lowly by, under the spreading branches of some laitfe true, a colony o{" startled cockatoos, or brilliant pluinagea paroquets would fly shrieking forth, rousing the laughing jackass to add his discordant

tiotes to the chorus, which would gradually die away into silence, broken ever and anon by the dismal howl of the dingo— the squatter s pet aversion. The two men felt the influence of the scene, and conversation gradually ceased. Suddenly the ' harmonious silenco ' was broken in an abrupt and awful manner. A voice, the voice of a man in the last extremity, was heard, now shrieking for help, now cursing his assailants. The travellers stopped, and gazed at each other in consternation. * There's black work doing,' exclaimed Smith, ewe must stop it. Look to your revolver,' and cocking his own, they went rapidly forward, towards a clump of trees, -from whence the eoun^proceeded. To their astonishment they perceived but one man. He was on his knees, his hair streaming in the wind, and the perspiration pouring down his pallid, unshaven face, as he fought wildly, frantically, with unseen legions : his blackened lips now uttering the most frightful curses, the next moment imploring succour in heart-rending tones. '* Blue devils,' said the stockman, laconically j pointing to an empty bottle by the mans * What's to be done ? inquired Smith ; 'if we leave him here, he'll be food for the dingoes before morning.' . Here the man became conscious of their presence, and staggering to his feet, clung to the from his tormentors. 'We must lift him into the dray, decided Mr Smith, and they did so ; be was quiet now, and so exhausted as to be unable to stand alone. They reached home without further stoppage; and the unexpected addition to their load was deposited in the woolshed between a couple of I old fleeces. The next morning, Mr Smith bethinking him of his visitor, went out to see how; a night's rest had left him, and never did I that worthy man receive a greater surprise. He' | had expected to find a common tramp or station hand— he' saw before him a gentleman! j Washed and shaven, and properly dressed, the victim of intemperance did not look like the same man. He was apparently about forty, witK a tall, elegant figure, light hair and eyes, a 'thin, delicate nose,, retreating chin, and a woefully indecisive mouth. The marks of his late excesses sadly marred an otherwise beauti-ful-face ; yet he looked such a thorough gentle- ' man that, involuntarily, Mr Smith raised his fcial;.' ; A deep crimson flushed the stranger's j pale, refined face at the action. Possibly it reminded him of the time, long ago, when to receive that mark of respect was no novelty to him. 4 Well,' said Mr Smith, ' how do you find yourself ? ' *Much better. I desire to thank you for your kindness last night,' returned the stranger, whose refined accent tallied with his appearance. ' • Xou've yourself to thank that my kindness was/needed,' retorted Mr Smith, who had scant sympathy with drunkards. , ' Where are you off to next?' ,'' The nearest water-hole, probably; I've neither home nor money.' , • Don't be a worse fool than you are already, advised Smith. * Why don't you get work V ,' ' Give me some, and I'll do it.' I What sort?' inquired the squatter, with a dubious glance at the stranger's long, white hands, ' ,* What work can you do ?' ' ,' I can keep accounts, and '—glancing at the children on the verandah—' I can teach.' ' Now, his account book was the nightmare of ,; Mr Smith's existence. Often did he declare to his wife that he had rather spend a whole day Bheep-shearing, or stock-driving, than one hour over the ' figurin'.' If the stranger could relieve him of that incubus, and, at the same time, solve the difficulty t of the children's edu- , cation, Mr Smith felt he would be making a j 'good bargain ; but, with characteristic caution, he concealed his satisfaction, saving carelessly, J .'Well, you can stop on a month, anyhow, j Mr y •Edwards— Charles Edwards.' 'Mr Edwards, then. You'll be out o' the way of temptation, anyhow. You say you've got lib money* and I'll give you none till you've been here six months. You'll get your keep, of course. If you like those terms, why I'll talk it over with the missus.' Which he did; and Mrs Smith being entirely in favour of the scheme, Mr Edwards was permanently established in tho household at Emu Flat, where he soon became a universal favourite. He was one of that numerous class of persons styled— by those who do not suffer through \ them — 'nobody's enemies but their own.' ' Talented, generous, and easy-tempered, having a perfect knowledge of what was right, and of the consequences of his sin, he yet lacked the ', energy and the stern self-sacrifice necessary to J ' conquer it. ' With the intellect of an angel, he had. the passions of a brute.' He stayed six years at Emu Flat, and the girls profited greatly by his instruction. An accomplished musician himself, he soon discovered Australia's musical genius, and urged Mra Smith to procure a piano; which, for Mary Jane's sake, she was glad to do. Nothing, however, could make a musician of that young lady ; she Jl learned because it was the thing, but had neither taste nor talent for it. It was to Mr Edwards' instruction that Anstralia owed the j finished cultivation of her performance. He and Mr Smith settled accounts once a year ; 1 and, with the power to gratify it, the unhappy ' man seemed utterly unable to resist his old 1 temptation. Sooner or later he would elude the Smiths' vigilance, make his way to the nearest township, and get ' on the burst,' returning J at the end of a week or two, penniless, ragged, and penitent. They pitied as much as they liked him, and always took him back ; but if scolding could have effected any good, he would certainly have been cured. And for weeks afterwards he would be the prey of the keenest, bitterest remorse and self -upbraiding. ' One October day, at the expiration of the six years, Australia, in dusting Mr Edwards' room, discovered on the toilet-table a volume of poems. Now books were a rarity at Emu Flat, and Australia siezed ,on this treasuretrove with avidity, intending to ask Mr ' Edwards' permission to read it, but he hap- ' pened to be absent that day helping to count the sheep previous to shearing ; and as evening drew on, Australia's impatience prompted her just to dip into the book, and see what it was like. A sad, hopeless strain ran through all , the pieces ; but one poem, the longest in the book, fairly fascinated her. The hero was described as always struggling blindly, desperately, yet unsuccessfully, against eviltemptation — fate. The closing scene, with its utter hopelessness, was depicted by a masterhand. It moved Australia's heart ; she looked up, almost with a sigh of relief, — Mr Edwards was standing before her. He, noting her emotion, inquired what book she had, and held out his hand for it. As soon as she could speak, Australia answered, 'Oh ! Mr Edwards, I beg your pardon ; I founci the book on your table, and meant to ask your leave to read it, but could not wait. Is' it yours ?' 'Mine in a double sense,— l wrote it.' ' Why, I did not know you were a poet.' ' You did not know I was a clergyman either, I dare bay,' ho roturUstl, spewking with bitter recklessness; 'but J wax -me onee ;— might have been a dean by this time, if — > I wrote '

that book just after taking my M.A. degree, and leaving Oxford. It had begun its work then.'

'It! What?' , , , ,_ 'The chain,' he said, fiercely; 'the chain that is winding slowly round me, and will bv-and-by drag me to the cart l and crush me to death. Its first links were forged before I could walk : from my cradle I was educated to like the taste of wine. But it was at that time I began to drink in secret. I was married then to the dean's daughter, and^ after one year as a curate was,_ through the influence of friends, presented with a living and a minor canonry. - But all the while I was drinking secretlyj and knew I was powerless to stop. Oh ! the horror, the remorse of that time ! I felt as the man in the many-windowed cell must have felfy who every morning saw that the iron walls had contracted, shutting out one I more loophole, and who knew that at last he must be crushed to death between them. But it could not long continue. First came suspicion ; then, at the end of four years, degradation from the ministry. Oh !to think that the memory of that day will haunt me for ever> ! For two years after it, we lost ourselves in London. Then my wife's friends found us, and tried to persuade her to leave me.' * And did she V inquired Australia, breathlessly. (This was the first time Mr Edwards had ever referred to his past life.) : ' No ; she chose rather to leave friends, country, and, above all, her children, and accompany me to the colonies, with the hope of helping me to retrieve my character. If anything could have averted my fate, it would have been that. But a six months' voyage, with nothing to do and the ability to obtain — though in small quantities— daily supplies of r drink, is more harm than good to one like me. Even her presence, and the thought of all she .had done for me, could not save me ; I was doomed. She died of a broken heart before we ;had been here three years. I drowned my .grief in the source of it, and was suffering from ' the effects when your father found me. There, child,' he added, abruptly ; 'the sight of that I book has unloosed my tongue, and 1 have told ; you more than I ever told any one. You are very like my eldest child : I think it's that has kept me here so long. At first I thought it | might yet save me ;< out lam doomed,— it is too late, too late !' ' No, no, no,' cried Australia, impetuously, dashing aw*y her tears, and speaking with eager, choking utterance ; ' none are doomed, unless by their own free will. You must — you shall conquer. You have made many promises — make one more. See ! write it here,' and her rapid, trembling fingers turned to the blank leaf of her book. 'I will fetch pen and ink : you shall sign the pledge, and keep a: And running inside, Australia returned immediately with writing materials; but Mr Edwards was gone, and all search for him was vain.

- Australia cried herself to sleep that night, and the next morning Mr Edwards was reported missing. ' There !' exclaimed Mr Smith when he heard it ; 'if that isn't jusfe what I expected. He's been in the dumps for the last day or two. When he came to me for his salary last night I would not trust him with more than a sovereign. It's lucky I didn't ; he'll be back before the week's out.'

But he was not ; and when ten days elapsed without bringing him, the Smiths became anxious, and started a search. The remains of the unhappy man were soon discovered in the scrub, ten miles from home. He had died from thirst and exposure. On searching his room, the only clue to his friends they found was a pocket-book containing an English address, and beneath it, in Mr Edwards' handwriting :—: —

1 If ever I come to grief, will some one send the news to the above address. — Charles Edward Challoner.'

So, that was his real name. Mr Smith complied with the request; and in due time his letter received an acknowledgment : the writer did not attempt to conceal that the news was a positive relief. And that was' the end of one whose birth, talents, and education might have commanded the respectful admiration of his fellow-menj but whose lack of moral strength rendered him a by-word and a warning. Australia Haver fergot Mr Edwards. She had loved him, and grieved deeply over his unhappy fate— a fate which she could not help thinking might have been averted, had he not found his tempter, even at Emu Mat. The daily allowance of drink which the Smiths took themselves, and offered to him, served to keep alive his fatal appotite. Australia had never touched wine since she had been old enough to reflect on the cause of her mother's death; but now she > signed her name in Mr Edwards' book, vowing to have nothing whatever to do with the cause of so much misery.

After Mr Edwards' death, the girls had two governesses. The first left at the end of six months, because there was no 'society'; the second eloped with the stockman; and Mrs Smith, disgusted, resolved to send the girls to a boarding-school, — where we have seen them established, and where they stayed a year.

(To be continued )