THE NOVELIST. THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE; OR A CHANGED HORIZON.

Otago Witness, Issue 2927, 20 April 1910, Page 70

THE NOVELIST. THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE; OR A CHANGED HORIZON.

By Ethel Turner. [All Rights Reserved.] CHAPTER III.—THE WHARTONS.

WAY on the eastern slopes of 1 Wyama stood the house and wide lands of the Whartons. Time was—eighty or ninety years ago—when all Wyama . belonged to one Wharton, a lieutenant in the army, who, serving the country he had been sent to keep in order, had the misfortune to lose

his leg in a pitched engagement with some turbulent miners. The then Governor of the colony, anxious to compensate him both for his past services and his misfortunes, pressed upon him one of the big land grants that were such common gift's at the time, and the lieutendant hung up his sword and sent to England for a library of books upon model farming. A squad of convicts reared him his house—a long, low, solidly built brick place. He had been told that his walls would have to be of wood, like all the early places, but hobblinsr round his new estate he found one day some clay of excellent quality, and the next, among nis ■ "assigned" men, an English brickmaker doing time. He introduced the two, therefore, and the result still showed, red and rough, but very durable, in the older portions of Wendover House, as he called the place, after his old English home. He himself grew sheep in the place, and waxed wealthy from them; his sons added cattle i when the possession of the estate fell to them. And his grandsons, Douglas and Sholto, at present managing it, kept the fine, park-like paddocks exclusively for exclusive cattle. As years had gone past, many thousand acres had been sold to improve the remaining thousands, but it was still one of the largest and most remunerative estates in the colony, and a stranger had not been half an hour in Wyama before it had been pointed out to him half a dozen times. The present occupants of Wendover were Mrs Wharton—a thin, ceaselessly active woman of seventy,—her two sons, Douglas and Sholto, and her unmarried ! daughters, Cade and Elizabeth. To Ines, just- settled down with her ' father in David's oottasre, there fluttered in one morning Mrs Beattie, quite agitated. "The Whartons are coming to call on vou this afternoon," she said ; "is there anything I can do to help? I met Miss ' Cade, and she asked me were you quite settled?—did Ido wrong? Would you j rather have had more time to prepare l for them?" ! "Oh, no," laughed Ines; "bring on j your bears." . Mrs Beattie frowned at shocking irreverence directed against _ the first j family in the district by a chit of a girl in a cottage like this. "I assure you they don't call on every- ; one," she said. "It will be a very fortunate thing for yon—a lonely girl like you j i are—if they like you." J

"But suppose," said Incs —"suppose such a terrible thing, Mrs Beattie, as that I don't like them? What then?"

"Oh, nonsense," said Mrs Beattie. It was so preposterous to imagine not liking people who owned an estate like Wendover that she dimply could not waste breath over discussing it. "Now, would you like me to lend you Lucy to help you with the afternoon tea things or shall I send one of the children? I wish they had waited till that State girl I have got you had arrived. 1 " "Have you anything to say against the afternoon tea I have prepared for you on several ocasions?" said Ines.

"Certainly not. I've enjoyed it very much," said Mrs Beattie; "beautifully arranged, I will say." "Very well,' said Ines, "what is good enough for the friend who has helped me over several tight places is quite good enough for stray callers."

But Mrs Beattie departed only half mollified; the beaten brass tray, the quaint thin cups and saucers and the lemon served as alternative for milk, ind the tiny almond cakes pleased a certain novelty-loving side of her own nature, but she was by no means sure what the Whartons would think of an afternoon tea equipage so entirely unlike the solid and important one that was borne into the Wendover drawing room by the Wendover housemaid on the stroke of 4.

Mrs Wharton and her daughters sparred a little after their customary fashion as they drove the two or three miles that separated East .Slope from West Slope. Cade * had wanted the victoria to he dragged out for the visit from its seldomdisturbed repose in the coachhouse. It was not often that she asked such a thing, for the waggonette and the dogcart and pony carriage were all pleasanter for these country roads, and she was quite' content for the dust sheets to be lifted from the victoria only on occasions when such distinguished visitors were staying in the house as the Governor's wife or the bishop's sister. Why she had proffered the request she hardlv knew herself, though if she had brutally dissected her own motives she would have found that a .desire to impress "that girl" was at the bottom of the reason.

Ines had held a subtle and tantalising interest for- Cade since the days when the girl and her father had first come to the township. Life in Wyanna was undoubtedly a narrow affair, though Mrs Wharton would nave been appalled at such a notion, and Elizabeth would have practically pointed out the impossibility of such an accusation being true. Did they not continually have visitors staying at the house—aunts a?id cousins mostly—not for any prolonged stay, it is true, but still politicians came occasionally from Friday to Monday, and distinguished visitors from England and other countries' were rarely allowed to leave Australia's shores without being carried off to see the model Wendover estate and spend a nisr-ht there. Was there not a special suite of looms —bedroom, dressing room, bathroom, and sitting room—kept entirely for such visitors? Did they not give a garden party every spring and an evening "at home ' every autumn? Did they not subscribe to the city libraries and receive parcels of the newest fiction twice a.week bv train?

Life at Wendover dull, narrow ! Why, the difficulty was, as Mrs Wharton insisted, to find sufficient hours in every dav for the manifold interests of their life.

"Oh, yes, we're husy enough,'' Cade would agree restlessly. That girl down at the hotel, that slight uniformed girl with the exquisite face that the dullest farmer on the road turned round to see again, awoke in Cade a mood of strange unrest and dissatisfaction. There was the natural pang of envy for the girl's beauty and youth—poor Cade was three-and-thirty, and absolutely without any claim to looks, but there was also a feeling of exasperation that a moneyless girl should dance so happily along Life's highway and extract joy and gladness from all sorts of trifling things, while she (Cade) and her mother and Elizabeth, for all their wealth, walked along so soberly and heavily. But perhaps the precise cause for the suggestion about the victoria was the pique Cade felt at the girl's plain lack of interest in themselves, the Whartons, of Wendover House.

They had passed the artist and his daughter frequently on the roads, themselves driving, as is the fixed habit of country people, the Erwins walking, and with inexplicable enjoyment, as travellers not uncommonly do. But Ines's face never quickened with any interest as it might have done upon viewing the chief family in the district; it is to be questioned whether her eyes really saw them at all, though those same eyes could follow with much eagerness a merry child trotting past on a pony, a string of bullocks yoked to a dray, a Chinaman staggering between his balancing baskets. But a narrow-faced old lady and two plain, somewhat dowdy girls well on in life—what interest did they hold for those eager young eyes, that had had set out for them almost as soon as they could see so much of the Old World's intoxicating beauty, so manv of its vivid interests and strong personalities? That is mainly why, when the call was decided upon for that afternoon, Cade suggested the victoria, should be used. "It is months since it was out," she said; "the leather will be getting musty, I don't think we ought to get out of the habit of using it when we pay calls." "Call at one of those bits of cottages in the victoria! You must be out of your senses, child," said Mrs Wharton, who, despite her limitations, had a sound sense of proportion.

"They have only taken it because there was no other place to take," said Cade sulkily. "Why, they're as poor as rats. You must know that. The man's an artist." Mrs Wharton had all the landed proprietor's contempt for nomads. She would have erudgingly granted you that

there was an exception hew and there, for she had read of Leighton's and Juillais's splendid homes : but it would have required an earthquake to shake her firmly-conceived notion thai srtists were a superior species of gipsy, who moved from town to town earning cdd fivepound notes for painting one's portrait in oils and one's favourite view in watercolours.

Even Elizabeth seemed to have a distorted notion of the newcomers. Elizabeth was of a sparse and narrow build, with light, worried-looking grey eyes and an undecided mouth. At . forty she was as completely under the rule of her autocratic old mother as she had been at four.

"It would be ridiculous, of course, to go in the victoria," she said; "the pony carriage will do quite well. But I think Luke might as well put on his livery." "Put on his liverv, when he's got those fowls to pluck before he goes, and alt the windows to hose the minute he gets back! Why, he would have to shave, too—the whole afternoon wasted! At your age, Elizabeth, I might have expected a little more sense." The vigorous old lady actually snorted in her anger. Elizabeth's nose grew a little pink, as was ever its wont when she was actually hurt—and nothing hurt her quite so severely as reference to her age. "Perhaps you'd rather not go at all," she said coldly. "I don't see that we can spare the afternoon if Douglas is bringing that American here to-night. I have the Worcester china (to give out, and the silver, and to ~do the table flowers and make the salad and fifty things."

"I've said I'll go, and I'll go," said the determined old lady. "Go and get on your hats. Cade, tell Luke the dog-cart »vill do; Sholto has just come in it, and it will save time harnessing again." She resented the loss of the afternoon herself, for she had a new man in the orchard whom she was anxious to follow up and surprise in .some expected ignorance of pruning. But she was also alive to the duties of her position, and when Mrs Beattie had told her of the motherless girl and her paralysed father settling down among them, she had at once determined to extend the Wendover hand to them. Still it was quite enough, she considered, that it was the Wendover hand; any "iove that came handy would do to cover it. She looked critically at the two cottages as Luke drew up. "What fools men are," she said, but this was merely the remark she always made vvhen she saw the isolated -places and remembered the story of their building.

"Why," said Elizabeth, "the other one is taken, too. Look, the windows are open, and there's a man digging—two men."

And such, indeed, was the condition of Jonathan's cottage. The air of neglect that had so long huns; over it was hardly dispersed, but undoubtedly it was occupied. Smoke was rising from its chimneys, and its windows, still cob-webbed and opaque with dust, were flung up ; several travelling rugs were airing on a fence, and two or three trunks and portmanteaus still stood out on the verandah:

"Two men and a Joy," said Elizabeth, as they climbed down to the ground! from the high step."

"Like the sums we used to do at school," said l Cade. "Why, one of them looks like a gentleman." "And one of them is a Chinaman," said Mr<s Wharton ; "isn't it Hop Ling, Elizabeth? I've a great mind to go and ask the rascal why he didn't come to the lettuce beds on Monday when I had engaged him." "Oh, I don't think I would, mother," said Cade uncomfortably, for her digging gentleman appeared to her more and more deserving of the title as they drew nearer to where he was working close beside the low dividing wall. But Mrs Wharton was bent upon her defective Celestial; her wrath stirred again as she remembered the uneatisfactorv lettuce beds, with which no one but a Chinaman seemed able to do anything. She walked to the wall and looked over. "My good man," she said in the bland, patronising tone she keDt for such of her tradesmen and dependents as had not offended her, "will you allow me to speak to your Chinaman? I engaged him to come to me last Monday, and this is Friday." Her "good man" took off a blue cap and bent his head in the swift accustomed fashion not common to anybody's "good men." "With much pleasure," he said. "John, a lady wishes to speak to you." He moved away himself out of earshot, carrying his spade with him, but the boy stopped work and looked and listened with interest, as a boy will. "Why you not come to me, John?" demanded the lady ; "all my lettuces they make no hearts, -every day get worse. Why you not come when I engage you?" Hop Ling regarded her with the magnificent unblinking serenity of his race. "No savee," he said. "You verv bad man, John, you saveft quite well," said Mrs Wharton. "Why you not come Monday?" John remained imperturbable. "You no engage me," he said. "I did engage you—you say same thing each time for excuse, John. Did you forget?" "Welly bad head top," said John gravely. "Well, when you give me diays?" persisted Mrs 'Wharton.

John surveyed the ground he -was at work upon. "Byemby, when all this done," he answered—then he waved his hand over the twin garden in which the ladies were standing—"and byemby when all that done." Mrs Wharton's temper rose as the last hope for her lettuce died. "You very fellow, John," she said. "Don't you know that the first engagement you make is the one you ought to keep. You ought not to make others until that is fulfilled." John's face resumed its smooth bland look"; the faint crinkles of intelligence that had appeared arOund the eyes died away. "No savee," he murmured mournfully. "Oh, mother,' said Cade impatiently, "do come along. Can't you see he doesn't want to come, and has no intention of coming. And I don't wonder, either, the way you follow him round to see if he is doing his work properly." Mrs Wharton took not the faintest notice of the outburst, but beckoned majestically to . the boy, who was still resting on his ■garden fork goodhumouredly watching the fray. He came at once, but in a guarded manner; he was a native of the district, and had been employed on the Wendover letture beds before this himself. "Kindly go and tell that man I wish to speak to hini;" The boy crossed the ground to Cade's digging. gentleman and gave the message, which wafi obeyed at once. "You are " began Mrs Wharton. The man gave her a keen glance. "The present tenant of this cottage," he said. "Yes—yes," said Mrs Wharton, "so I imagine. It was your name I asked for." Elizabeth's nose grew pink again— Cade's pale cheeks red. "Scott Sheldon, at your service," he said a little stiffly but not discourteously. "I think you are probably not aware, Mr Sheldon,'" said the undaunted lady, "as you are doubtless a newcomer to Wyarna, that in engaging the services of this man Hop Ling you have forced him to break an engagement he made to come to me for the whole of this week. My lettuce beds and the asparagus plots are almost ruined." "I am sorry to hear this," Sheldon looked in a rather perturbed way at the Chinaman. "Why didn't you tell me this, Hop Ling?" "No savee," said Hop Ling, smiling ■widely. "Will you kindly make him understand that he is to come to me to-morrow for the. week?" said Mrs Wharton. Sheldon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I can't do that," he said ; "he accepted my engagement to come to me for three months, and I have aready waited a week for him while he put the garden you are standing in in good order. He told me he had no further -engagement." "Perhaps not—the race is not to oe trusted as far as it may be seen," said Mrs Wharton —"but now that you understand the situation, you will have the kindness to see that the fellow is at my house —Wendover House —at 7 to-mor-row morning. Good afternoon." She gathered her black silk skirts a little more tightly in .her hand, and made to move away. Cade and Elizabeth clutched their sunshades closer to them, ready to follow. But the battle was not won The new tenant of Jonathan's cottage stood in silence a moment He was rather above the average height, of a lean build, though well enough knit: The face was clean shaven, and not without a certain look of power ; the eyes a greyish brown, compellent. Not in the least good looking, the girls decided, for it was with a square jaw and unsmiling mouth and hard youne eyes that he was surveying them. "I "don't know that I can undertake that," he said slowly. "My work here is important—to me. To let the man go now would be a serious hindrance." ."And what about my lettuces?" said the indignant ladv ; "they are of no account I presume." Sheldon's eyes grew harder. "If you honestly consider that a few lettuces for table are as important as a man's livelihood, you may have him," he said. "This is your livelihood?" —the lady's gloved hand waved over the sloping, weed-choked place. "It is." "Oh, if that is so, I suppose I must waive my claim," said Mrs Wharton discontentedly ; "but it means that we shall have no salads for -weeks. My lettuce beds " The young man flung back nis head as if he had had enough of the subject. "John," he said, "you will go and fulfil your engagement with this lady tomorrow." But John backed precipitately away. "No—no," he said; "me no plomisee to go to her never. Only say byemby. No likee." "You will perhaps absolve me from blame," said Sheldon, and moved his spade hand as if anxious to get back to work. But the old lady, with eyes full of anger, was walking swiftly up the path to David's cottage. (To be continued.)