“ALMA.”

Wairarapa Standard, Volume XX, Issue 2017, 14 January 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

“ALMA.”

Aw Original Australian Story, BT HAROLD STEPHEN £>?., M.R OF NEW SOUTH WALE'L (All Riqhts Rtitrred.) Cl! AITF. U VI-1'* 1 ‘NT! NT pro He was not the fori if young man to stand shivering on the bank, but n-ually erred on the other side hy taking everything, as he ei-prev-ei it, ••with a rush." So he quietly informed the Professor that he had called that morning to till him that he was in love with his niece, and asked his permission to marry her. Stephen Tredegar was not easily astonished, but, on this occasion, he was taken by surprise, and. for a minute or two, could not find words for an answer. At last he said : •• Is that all ?■’

" Yes. sir, replied Harry. “We do not want to be married right off, yon know. There's no such rider.t hurry about it. but I thought that, as my father must get back to Sydney, and I ought to go with him, wo might manage it in a fortnight. Women always require a little time, you know,” he added, as coolly as if he had been married as often as Drigham Young. “They always like to get up an outfit, though, for my part. I cant see why all that sort of thing can t be done in an afternoon. if you're sharp about it.” •■ Mr. La-eelles." began the Professor, “ of course you know how haltered I must feel at your otter -”

“ Oh, don't mention it I" interrupted Harry

“ I don’t sec that iheie is any occasion for you to fed anything of the kind. Alma is one of the bcH little things in the world, and any man ought to be proud of such a wiic.'

“Bcal'y. sir, your condescension is quite overpowering." said the Professor, in a sarcastic tone ; " but it decs not seem to have occurred to you that, although King Cophetua rai 'ht stoop to an alliance with a beggarmaid, the beggar-maid's family might not feel desirous of the honor." •• Which means ?" asked Harry, turning Kmiervha: pale, for he had not calculated upon a refusal. •• Which means that I regret to be obliged to refuse your generous otfer. I have other views (or mv niece."

“ And do you tell mo that you will not a’low ha to marry the man she loves?" asked Harry, waxing indignant.

•• I tell you that a child like that, who has never spoken to a young gentleman before, cannot know her own mind, and, as her guardian. it is my duty to refuse my consent to r. hat may be merely the caprice of a momentSee, Mr. Lascelles," he continued in a milder tone- “ you are but young yourself, whilst Alma is a mere child—reflect for a moment, and you will admit that, placed as 1 am, I Id not act otherwise."

“But I must remind you, Mr. Tredegar, that u is not apparently any question of wait.ng—yau said j-.-t now that you had other » i- 'v- f/.T jvvir n.-ice."

"Wvll. nr - what then? Poes it seem to yon extraordinary that I should like to see the girl, who ha- b-e-o to me as a daughter, married to a friend c f ray own, and serried in Xl.e neighborl-nod of mv own dwelling?"

"lon would marry her to a Herman?" Harry. ■■ Nc, ,-ir-cro many months are over I shall ue in I’CcMtsion of my faiherV prop-'-rty, and living i n rqr ~wn <wtate in England." "Mv!!, **i,l Harry, "it all amounts to thri, I suppose; you decline to have anything to say to me •• There is no need to put the matter coarsely—l (imply decline the proposed alliance." •• And you think wo shall put up with this gynainy . aaked Harry, fiercely. " Wh.it you will do, or try to do. I neither know noc tare," retorted the Professor, with r-uch exaspming calmness that Harry felt ■itlined to kick him but of this lam •are: my niece will obey me."

“ well, sir.” said Harry—“we shall see. <>ood aoming.” The I‘rofeMor smiled. as our hero made a somewhat melodramatic exit, and then carefully (selected a cigar and a book, and salt down to enjoy himself.

CHAPTEI4 VII.

IS THE T"ILS. Casting a glance upward, as he left the mill. Harry pweeived Alma peeping timidly out of the easement of the room which he had learned was Iwrown. The rush of water for the mill was in full swing-rendered it impossible for him to make himself audible, yven if he had raised his voice to its highe-t lltgh; he, therefore, took off his hat and vrtmtii it in the direction of the heights upon •which afood ScWoss llahenslem. trusting that Lis l?dj -love would have the wit to under 4tand the aiyrial. He was not dmppo/nted. for Alma norHee and smiled, and immediately disappearn from view, evidently with the intention o preparing for the rendezvous. But, Mr Henry Laseelles reflected that his movement - nM have been equally discernible by tin Profcasor, had that gentleman (as was very probable) taken th« trouble to watch his departure, and, thcnflorc, incontinently turned his back njton the castle, and sauntered leisurely down the mad towards tic inn, intending, as soon as the mill was hidden from view, M makes deumr and reach the trystingplace by mpe other rood*

-ti.v. nil*-. Anna ’ally clou not I m-r h<U at. a F.. v L .=. ami tripped down-stairs, humming a tune—which came to an abrupt conclusion as she met the Professor, who softly opened the loor of the sitting-room as she was passing i_v. •• You are going ont ?” he asked. “Yes, unde,” she replied, avoiding his eye, but utterly unable to control the blush which mantled her cheek. " Spare mo a few minutes before you go,” said the Professor, with unwonted gentleness, ami (hj awing her into the room. Alma would fain have escaped the interview, but knew that she was detected, and so nerved herself for the ordeal. She felt sure, without knowing why she felt it, that her ancle did not approve of Harry Laseelles, and would oppose the projected alliance. Bat she thought that she felt equally sure that nothing he could say or do, would cause her to break faith with her lover, and, in this assurance, she unconsciously assumed a detiant look, which did not escape the notice of the wilv man of the world.

N\ verthulcss, his policy was persuasion, and nothing could be more tender than the manner in which he handed her to a seat, and took his place beside her. "My child,” he began; “ circumstances compel me to detain you for a few moments. I know—or I think I know—that you were about to meet your friend, Mr. Harry Lascellcs ; and, before you do meet him, I must ask your attention for awhile. Alma —my nature is not demonstrative; I cannot wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at. I am not able to express my feelings by a word or a look. Knowing this, I know, also, that those I love must necessarily find it didicult to believe in my love. I cannot fail to be misimdorstoo 1. and I am misunderstood ■ven by you and Dart, who, of all humanity, arc nearest and dearest to me. He has hosen to doubt me, and throw himself into the arms of a stranger. Y'ou, child, to my great joy, refused to follow in his footsteps—--1 wish you still to believe, that, if I run counter to your wishes. I nm actuated by a desire only to promote your welfare,” The Professor paused, and looked at his niece. She, instinctively perceiving what was in come, had nerved herself for the struggle, and sat by his side, bright and d ‘Hunt ; but yet—her heart misgave her, and she doubted I Was it possible for her to believe that the man who had stood in the place of a father to her for so many years was false ? Could she, a child in years and heart, doubt one, who, if he had not been tender and loving, had. at least, so borne himself as to ..in her respect and trust ? It was the girl’s u •• o u: it. and she shrunk from its

with tip; fear and repulsion of one

vho lie r..i-"d the curtain of experience, and has discovered what a grim skeleton lies behind. She recoiled from the picture which Iter quick perception had suggested. She raised her eyes, and bent their truthful gaze upon her guardian.

“ Uncle,” she said, at last, “ I think—l hope hope—that you will advise me for the beat.”

My child, do not mistake me. Since the death of your parents, you and Dart have been my constant care. My avocation demands 'my frequent absence, and, consequently, you have scarcely known what it is to have a home. It may be that I have been careless—trusting to servants what I should have done myself—but, believe me, I have never forgotten the duty I took upon me at the death-bed of your father. At this crisis of your life, I ask you to remember the past, and trust me”—

" Oh, I do —I will—uncle,” replied Alma, with a tearful, trusting look in her eyes, which, for a moment, shook the resolution of the heart-hardened schemer, in whose hands she was as helpless as a fluttering bird in the net of the fowler. For a moment, he wavered—but for a moment only—generous impulses seldom arrive at fruition in the bosom of the man to whom Self has ever 'teen the paramount consideration. " Your confidence shall not be misplaced,” lie said, after a scarcely perceptible pause, but not daring to trust himself to look into her eyes. “ I learn from Mr. Harry Laseelles that you have promised to be his wife—is that so?”

“ Yes, uncle,'' timidly replied the girl, now in her turn abashed.

“ I am sorry to hear it. I know nothing of Mr. Harry Lascelles, and have naught to say against him ; but you arc merely a pair of children, and this playing at love-making cannot fail to prove disastrous to one or other of vou."

" He will be true, uncle ! ” exclaimed Alma, roused into defence of her lover. “ Oh, I am sure he would not deceive mo! ”

“ But he may deceive himself, my dear. He is a mere boy, and, long ere you could marry, he may find, as most of us do, that calf-love is a disease which wears itself out very speedily.” Calf-love ! To the enthusiastic, loving, girl, this expression came sharp and cutting as a knife. She would not reply, but turned her head away, whilst the rising color, and impatient stamping of her little foot, showed how deeply she felt the insult. The Professor smiled inwardly, but he had no desire to destroy the good understanding which had so lately obtained between them, and he hastened to explain. '■ I did not mean to wound you, Alma. No doubt both you and Harry Lascelles believe that your affection will be eternal j but we, who have gone through the fiery ordeal, know how evanescent such feelings become, when once subjected to the test of absence, and intercourse with other young and attractive people.” “But why need wo be separated?” asked Alma, somewhat mollified, but still smarting from the wound to her pride conveyed by that horrible term, ‘ calf-love.’ "

“ Why need you be separated 1 Surely you know that Harry Lascelles is about to go out to Australia?”

“ Yes, uncle —but—but— ’ “But what?” asked the Professor, triumph ing in her hesitation.

He has asked me to go with him 1”

“ Asked yon to go with him 1 Do you mean to say that that boy has had the effrontery to suggest an immediate marriage ?” Alma irritated by the aggressive tone of this question, and especially at the contemptuous allusion to her lover as “ that boy," did not reply ; and the Professor, who saw his error, hastened to qualify his remarks.

“ I mean no disrespect to the young man,” said he, but you must admit he is a boy in years, whilst you are a mere child. Surely you cannot suppose that marriage between you too could be permitted for sopie years to come

The young lady felt herself to be in wha? our American cousins call “ a tight place,” but still sly; found voice enough to mutter that •• his father had not thought them too young to marry.” “ His father!” retorted the Professor, contemptuously. “ A man whose life has been spent in the wilds of Australia, and who is, as anyone may ace, so infatuated by the excellencies of his son and heir that he can deny the young man nothing!—l tell you, Alma, no good ever resulted from these early marriages, and 1 should be wanting in my duty to v ou if I did not oppose this mad scheme to the uttermost of my power. If you doubt me, child, appeal to the Pastor—he has been your friend for many years, and you will at least acquit lum of acting from interested motives.”

“ What would you have me do, then, uncle r she asked at last, with a piteous, beseeching look in her eyes. •Nothing—just absolutely nothing! Tel/ Harry Lascelles yli*t I have said; and add that, if his love last for a couple of years, he may come to you with some hope of success.

If lie is sure of himself, and of you, ho can, at his ape, well afford to wait; especially as we are hound to the same quarter of the world as himself, and no ocean will divide you from him.” “ Are we then going to Australia, undo ?” ashed Alma, brightening wonderfully at this unlooked-for piece of good news. “ Yes, my dear; ere many weeks, it not even days, I hope we shall be en route. Now, dry your eyes, like a good little girl, and, when you see Harry, tell him, if you please, that you will wait for him, but that no actual engagement must subsist between you.” Is it any wonder that the Professor conquered? Reason was undoubtedly upon his side, and, however much has been said to the contrary, women are not always deaf to its calls, when their interests are at stake. Alma, though a child, was thoughtful beyond her years, and the pitiless logic of the Professor was as convincing to her as if it had been addressed to a bench of judges. She conceded all that was asked—the more readily because of the delightful news that she, too, was to be taken to that strange, wild, country, which, for her lover’s sake, she had already learned to regard as a home. And so, once again, the wily Professor gained the day.

CHAPTER VIII,

A FIRST QUARREL. Whilst the interview, recorded in the last chapter, was in progress, Mr. Harry Lascelles was toiling up the steep rocks which bounded either side of the valley, intent upon gaining the heights of Eabenstein, without subjecting himself to the chance of interruption by the Argus-eyed guardian of his ladylove.

He felt himself to be a singularly ill-used individual—the more so because the path was steep and rugged, and, if he would not keep the lady waiting, he could not afford to linger by the way. Like most Australians, our young friend was more at home on horseback than on foot, and none but the most powerful of motives would have induced him to venture upon such a toilsome task as climbing up a mountain-chain like that which was crowned by Schloss Babenstein. Very naturally he fumed and fretted, and inwardly cursed the Professor; so that he was in a far from amiable state of mind, when at length he arrived at his goal. Nevertheless, his ill-temper did not prevent him from filling his pipe—carefully, as became an Australian—and, as the fumes of the fragrant weed eddied around his head, he set himself to work to consider the position.

Now, Harry Lascelles, despite his apparent frivolity, was by no means a fool. His bushtraining had made him self-reliant, and suspicious of the motives of those in whom he had not thorough confidence. He disliked the Professor, and had learned enough from Dart to doubt the integrity of that gentleman. Therefore, he argued, there must be some sinister motive lying behind the apparent desire for his niece's welfare which led the Professor to refuse his consent to their marriage. At the same time, he fully recognised the weight of the arguments used, and the difficulty he would experience in combatting them, shou'd Alma prove less amenable to the influence of love than he hoped she would be, lie had just made up his mind to fight till (he last, when the crackling of twigs startled him from his reverie. He glanced down the path, and hastened to meet the lady whose coming he had so anxiously awaited.

“ Alma!” he cried, as she came running up the hill.

“ I am sorry I kept you waiting so long," said the girl, flushed and palpitating. “My uncle would have me to stay with him.” 11 Just so,” said Harry. “ I suppose he had suspected wo had arranged a rendezvous, and hoped to spoil our little game. Told you I was a bad lot, eh ?” “ Nothing of the sort, sir,” replied Alma, half-vexed, yet half amused, at the imperturbability of her lover. “ Then he did the heavy father business. Oh, I know the thing by heart 1 My che-ild, thou knowest I have thy best interests at heart—thou knowest I would die to save thee a tear I Etcetera, •cetera—”

“ Harry,” said Alma, gravely,” you mistake my uncle.” “ Which I devoutly hope I do,” was the rejoinder. “ He may to you seem harsh and cruel, but you must not forget that he is only acting as any father or guardian would do in his place.” "You think so, little one ? Where did you get your worldly wisdom ? ” “ I think my uncle is right in saying we ought not to be married yet. We are so very, very young! " Harry looked at the little face, imploringly raised towards his own, and could not gainsay the truth of this remark—so he did the next best thing; he bent his head, and imprinted a kiss upon the pleading lips, which did not shrink, though a rich blush spread rapidly over her face. “My little Alma," he exclaimed. “My darling! Not all the uncles in the world shall stand between us! He may be right from his point of view—l don’t say he is not —but we know better, darling, and no reasoning could make us doubt each other.” “ It is not that, Harry,” said Alma, eagerly. My uncle does not wish us to doubt each other—all he wants us to do is to wait."

“ And meanwhile we are to be separated by sixteen thousand miles of sea! "

“ Ah, but, Harry, we are not going to be separated by sixteen thousand miles of sea 1” exclaimed Alma, joyfully. “ Why—what ?—” “We are going to Australia, as well as you 1” Harry shook his head, doubtingly. He thought the statement was merely made by the Professor, in order the more easily tp induce his niece to give in to his wishes. This view of the question he urged with considerable energy and lover-like eloquence. But Alma was firm; and a somewhat stormy interview ended in tears, upon the part of the young lady, and some very strong expressions, on the part of the young gentleman. Neither of the two thought that it would be years before they met again; or it may ba, that the one would have been more yielding—the other, less indignant. As it was, a ■ cry pretty lovers’ quarrel failed, for once, to result in that renewal of love which, a poet tells us, is the usual result of such affairs.

CHAPTER IX,

A DINNER TARTY. Nine out of ten of the acquaintances of Sir Charles North declared that he was a fool. The Indies were especially hard upon him. A bachelor, with a large income; owning a tine house in the best part qf London, and a far finer house in a northern county, must always expect to be regarded as, at least, eccentric, if he elects to live at an hotel, and declines to take part in any social entertainment whatever.

No small wonder was, therefore, expressed, when it became known that this misanthrope had installed himself in his town mansion, at the commencement of the London season, and had issued invitations for a dinner party on a large scale. Of course, these invitations were addressed to gentlemen only, for, of ladies, this misogynist knew none. Indeed, it was popularly supposed that he would have tied in dismay had any member of the gentler sex ventured to address him.

Bunee Hawthorn, who knew everybody, and everything about everybody, said that Sir Charles had been crossed in love, whilst still a boy, and that the disappointment had so preyed upon his mind, that he had gone mad. Others opined that he was only a fool; but there were a few grey-bearded gentlemen who

shook their heads mysteriously, and murmured that, “ Fool or no, he knew a thing or two,” and, “ They only wished they had his secret sources of information.” As most of these old gentlemen were either “ in the City,” or known to be largely interested in City 'affairs, it may be assumed that Sir Charles was more respected on ’Change than in the drawing-rooms of Belgravia. / -■ Yet, here again, Bunce Hawthorn had something to say. He admitted that, doubtless, Sir Charles North was extremely happy in his speculations; but he averred that his success was in no way owing to his ability as a financier, but to the fact that he submitted blindly to the guidance of a certain Israelite broker, through whom it was notorious his business was always transacted. Even Bunce Hawthorn was, however, delighted to accept an invitation to dinner from this madman; and, indeed, promised himself some rare enjoyment in detailing his experience in many a smoking-room and boudoir.

Bunco was a little man—these people who know everybody always are little—and was otherwise only noticeable through his eyeglass. After a first introduction to him, nobody was ever known to remember him other than as a small man with an eye-glass, who seemed to .know more than anybody else. Me had eyes, hose, mouth, hair, and the usual complement of limbs; but all were, like a monochrome, so subdued in tone, that it was simply impossible to carry away any remembrance of them whatever. But his eyeglass was a distinct feature, even in a day when eye-glasses were the fashion, and every young “ swell” suffered tortures in attempting to wear one with grace. Bunce was not of this sort, however ; he managed his with consummate ability, and, when he proposed to be especially impertinent, so screwed and twisted it about, as to convey an insult before he opened his mouth. Of this gentleman, it may further he said that he was a clerk in the Colonial office, and was popularly supposed to add not a little to his income by writing tit bits of scandal for the society-papers of the day.

He entered the drawing-room late—Bunce knew his value, and determined to make others recognise it also. There were assembled a company of representative men; including, as it did, some leading members of both Houses of Parliament; sundry gentlemen equally well-known in the city ; one or two journalists of mark, and a contingent from the world of fashion. “i

Bnnce immediately concluded that “ something was up,” as he put it, and was not long left in doubt, for, after he had shaken hands with his host, that gentleman immediately introduced him to his ward, Mr. Dart Tredegar.

The murder was out; Sir Charles North had turned bear-leader in his old age, and had given this entertainment for the purpose of launching his cub in society ! Thus Bunce Hawthorn, to a friend next whom he found himself placed at dinner. “ The cub seems presentable enough,” remarked that gentleman, one Sam. Forster, of the Foreign Office. “ Good-looking, but wants style,” was the reply. “ Got a foreign look about him, too.”

“ Sir Charles told me he was educated on the continent.”

“ Ah, that accounts for it 1 Never could see the advantage of a continental education ; unless a fellow was going into your line. Eton and Oxford are good enough for me.”

Sam. Forster smiled, for it was well known that neither of the establishments in question had been honored by the presence of Mr. Bunce Hawthorn amongst their alumni. Meanwhile Dart was winning golden opinions from those in his immediate neighborhood. The party was too large too admit of anything like general conversation, which was in his favour, as it gave him an opportunity for talking, without laying him open to the accusation of presumption; which might have happened had so very young a man ventured to express hia opinions whilst his seniors were forced to sit in silence.

He talked modestly and well about life in Germany, the curriculum at Heidelberg, and other subjects with which he was well acquainted; being urged on, on either side, by a member of Parliament and a journalist, both of whom were in search of information upon the precise topics in question. Sir Charles North—a silver-haired gentleman, of aristocratic presence and strongly - marked intellectual features—noted his protfgi's success, and was delighted, receiving all the compliments which were paid him on the score of his young friend, with the pleased look of a father.

The cloth was drawn, and the wine had passed round two or three times, when the butler handed a note to Sir Charles, marked “ immediate.”

“ By your leave, gentlemen,” he said, as he broke the seal—then, after reading it, ‘‘l must crave your indulgence for a few minutes. A gentleman waits in my study to confer with me and Mr. Tredegar, upon business which will admit of no delay. Mr. Hawthorn, will you be so kind as to represent me during my absence? Come, Dart.” -'t As the door closed on the pair, speculation, of course, began at once as to the cause of their absence, and Bunce Hawthorn once more achieved a success by saying that it was evident the “young ’un was in the swim,” and that the gentleman whom they were about to interview could be no other than the Israelite stock-broker, to whom Sir Charles North owed his success as a speculator. “Wonder it he would give us a tip?” whispered Sam. Forster in the ear of his friend. “ Deuced hard lines, that we should never have a chance to land a pot in the share line.”

“ Try him,” replied Bunce, drily. “ Why, man, it is as much as his life is worth to split on his Jewish friend I Lay you any odds you like, he is as close as if you get him to polish off another couple of bottles of this most excellent port.” Here Bunce raised his glass to his lips, and sucked in a mouthful, gently, whilst a beatific-expression stole over his features, and his eye-glass actually fell on to his lap.

CHAPTER X.

THE FIB6T SHOT. In his study, Sir Charles found Mr. Freeman, of the firm of Freeman and Truelove, solicitors ; who, it will be remembered, appeared, on behalf of Sir Charles, on the memorable occasion of the reading of the will of James Tredegar, senior. They shook hands cordially, and then Part was presented, and evidently made a favourable impression upon the solicitor. “You look as if you had plenty of light in you, young man,” he said, “ and I believe you have plenty of fighting before you." “ But Freeman, cannot wc postpone this business till to-morrow ? Come in and join us, like a good fellow. You know I sent you an invitation.”

" Which I refused, having too much to do to be able to spend an evening in amusement. You would not find me here now, had it not been for the urgency of the case. Do you know that Mr. Stephen Tredegar is in England ? ”

“ Thu deuce he is ! ” exclaimed Sir Charles. “ He has not lost much time.” “ And my sister, sir ? ” asked Dart, anxiously. “Is she with him ? ” “ Yes, they arrived yesterday, and are staying at Laughnm’s. Mr, Stephen Tredegar has lost no time, indeed, for proceedings were commenced against us to-day.” “ Proceedings 1 ” “ Yes ; in the Chancery Court. You know he took out probate of the will some time ago. He has now fired his first shot, and the action may be said to have fairly begun." {To be continued,]