“ALMA.”

Wairarapa Standard, Issue 2067, 13 May 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

“ALMA.”

An Original Australian Siorv BT HAROLD STEPHEN E,,., M.P Of SEW SOUTH WALES, (All RiqhU Rettrvei. )

CHAPTER XLViI.-i; n.MiM t:D.) A.lma lia,’hcd, and declined, and Mr. M'Corkle rmred, fl.'.-t takr-n the •' Urberty," as he cnlUd it. to shake hares with the young Ulv. w'.‘.i:--h be (Ini as slowly and solemnly m if their parting waa to be for •ver. We will leave oat heroine under the care of these good people whilst we see how the diacovery of her flight affected the Professor and Ur. Jjbosoo.

" I'd burst it in then, if I was you,” said Johnson. "It’s late as it is, and bow the dickens we're to got to Peurith by two o'clock I don't know." “The Professor did as was suggested, but, of course, Susie was not there. “ What the devil is the meaning of this ?” he exclaimed angrily. “ She's not here.” “ Maybe she’s with Alma, there's sure to be a lot of dressing business to get through.” Mr. Johnson retired to his room as he said this, and left his friend to continue his search alone. But he was soon disturbed, for the Professor, in a great state of perturbation, repotted that neither of the girls where to be found any where on the promises. They must have pone out for a walk before breakfast,” said Johnson, cooly. “ Maybe they have lost their way, they did it once before, if you remember.” “ Is it likely they would be guilty o! such lolly, on this of all mornings in the year ?” asked the Professor, anp.ily, “ I tell you, 1 don’t like the look ol things at all,” •‘You don't think they’ve bolted?” exclaimed Johnson, now really beginning to feel alarmed. “I don’t know what to think, Alma may have changed her mind at tae last moment. I'll ask the old man if he saw them go oat.” The old man bad not seen either ol them, but he reported that the buggy and horses were missing, and was saluted by such a volley of expletives, as even he, a gentleman or experience, never remembered to have heard before. “By Heaven 1” the Professor exclaimed, as ho threw open the door of Johnson’s room “ You were right 1 They have bolted 1” “ The devil they have “ And gone oil in the buggy too. What is to he done ?” “ Hurry after them as quick as possible I Tell the old man to catch the saddle horse, for ym can get a change at Penrith.” He had scarcely finished speaking before the Professor hurried eff to return in a minute with the news that no horse was to be found! Tne conversation which ensued, must remain unreporled, both the gentlemen were justly angered, and the occasion was one upon which the use of a little strong language is almost excusable. Finally it was arranged that they should, alter such a breakfast as could be obtained in a hurry, proceed together to Penrith ; from whence the Professor could obtain horses,and drive on in pursuit of the runaways, whilst Johnson awaited bis return at the ion, and arrange matters with the parson. They had a wearisome walk to Penrith, along a dusty, rugged road, with a blazing hot sun. The dissipation of the previous evening had left its inevitable effects behind, and. as may be imagined, the morning's discovery bad tried their tempers not a little, conversation soon became irksome, and they toiled onward, sullen and si'eat. When, alter!a march of nearly four hours, they reached the township,they made straight for the nearest inn, and, after they had slaked their thirst in some villainous beer, the Professor asked—more as a matter of form, than in the hope nl eliding any information—whether the landlord had seen or heard of two young women, driving through the town in a baggy err y that morning. “ Not a soul come down this blessed morning,” replied (ha landlord,” “ except this gentleman here.” The gentleman in question—a gentlemen whose hair and beard grew in a tangled mass together, and whose wardrobe was of a very limited nature, consisting ouly cf a dirty chock shirt, and equally dirty moleskin trousers—was sitting on a bench enjoying a lunch of cold beef and bread, washed down by a pint ol “ attingy-batk, ” otherwise colonial ale. He looked up as the landlord spoke, and, without waiting to dispose of the food which was in his mouth, asked whether the gentleman meant two young gals in a buggy and pair! " Yes," replied the Professor. “ Have you seen them ? ’ Parst them on the road goin’ to Bathurst. Dive 'em the time o’ day, and they arkses was they in the right track. ’ Y T es,’ sea I, ‘Do you happen to know Mr. Lascelles' station ?’ sea one, the smartest of the two. Which I told ’em I did, bein’ as I’d been there last sbearinV’ The Professor stifled an oath, as he heard this news, and Johnson, always free in his language, spoke bis mind in the subject with considerable vehemence and fluency. "Have you got a buggy for hire?” asked the Professor, of the landlord, after ho had thanked the gentleman in moleskin, and requested him to replenish his pewter. "We must go on to Bathurst immediately.” “No,” replied the landlord, "I've got a buggy, only I can’t spare it. But you would get there as quick by the coach, or quicker. She’s due in half-an-hour. If I was you, I'd jest have a bit o’ dinner, and then go on by her. This advice might not.be disinterested,but it was sound, and the worthy pair agreed to adopt it, and cheered the heart of the publican by ordering as sumputous are past as could be prepared in ten minutes. Luck was against them, however, for they had only just seated themselxes at the table, when the coach, which halted at another hotel, came thundering up the street, and they were compelled to depart without satisfying their hu-iger—a result which had been very possibly expected by the landlord, as he had presented his account when summoning them to the meal—to save time, as he said.

CHARIER XLVIIL ms rcß'Ctr. Stephen Tredepir wa* not quite the revengeful monster he avowed himself to be. It is true ths! he had cherished feelings of hitrsd towards his brother, and bis brother's wife ; but, when he stood by the dying bed of the one, and learned that the other lay yet nnburied. pity took the place of revenge, and he assumed charge of the orphans with an honest intention to do his doty by them. VofottonatelT, he cmld not easily learn to love them, lie was utterly unused to children, and found their presence irksome, and their noir' madiening. S) he saw as little of them as and, indeed, was so frequently absent from (irabcnthal. where ho had established his home, that his residence there became almost nominal. As they grew older, I'irt gave him some trouble—as all boys in sound health will—the good boy is usually sickly and a sneak. Some stormy scenes took place between the youth and his uncle, and Alma tacitly, sided with hot brother, of this the Professor was assured by her manner towards him, which, as she grew in years, became mote reserved and cold. Th-a he learned one day from T.ii-tlethwaite. the lawyer, that bis father bad made a will in favor of the children, and, from that moment, he conceived the idea of keeping them entirely under bis influence. Dart he never liked, bat he had as much affection for Alma as he waa capable of (eeliog for any child not bis own ; and, when she deliberately refused to believe what her brother told her was the truth, viz, the allegations of Sir Charles North, the Professor really loved htrfor a time. It bad been no part of bis scheme to sacrifice her to Johnson, but it seemed that no other coarse was open to him. Then, after be bad wronged her, by estranging her from her lover, he began to tell himself that he bated her for her parent's sake, and woe bound to revenge himself upon her for their wrong doing. “ The sin's of the fathers shall be visited upon the children," bore quite a new meaning in his eyes, and be thought that the system of vicarious punishment had received the divine sanction. lie was in the position of the injurer, who always hates tea times as vigorously as the injured. Gradually he even began to believe that it was always bis intention to make the girl ■offer, and, under the influence of drink, he made that speech which was overheard by Sasic, bnt which was addressed, not to Johnton, but to his own accusing conscience. Always a temperate man, excess betrayed him into follies which a more seasoned toper would have avoided. He had been led into drinking merely to drown his stings of conscience, which told him that be was about to do a cruel wrong to an innocent girl, whe loved and trusted him. Johnson drank, partly because fie was elated at the near approach of the boar which was to give him a Wide; partly, also from nervousness, but chiefly because he was always ready to do hie share in a drinking bout whenever-the opportunity offered. Neither of the two awoke till after nine o’clock on the following morning. The Prolessor was the first astir, for bis head ached terribly, and his tongue seemed swollen to twice its natural size, so that lying in bed after his eyes were opened became unsupportable. He dressed himself carelessly, and walked into the sitting.room in search of a bottle of bitter beer, for soda- water was, of course, not procurable. To his surprise, it presented the same appearance as when they had left it on the previous evening. A sickly smell of stale tobaeao, mingled with fumes of spirits, pervaded the room, and be turned away with a shudder of disgust, and went in search of Susie—intending to talk to her (may I be pardoned tbs expression) like a Dutch uncle. No Susie was to be found in the kitchen > bat the fire was alight, and, sitting on a stool outside the door, was the old sonnet, smoking his morning pipe. “ When is Susan 7” the Professor bawled in tbs man's ear. "I donno, sit,'' be replied. “She ain't been out yet.” •• Not oat yet 1 111 soon see what's the Hotter,” be mattered, as he made his way to Suite's room, when he commenced on the door and bawling out her io loadly that Johnson was aroused, Ui t— oat in shirt and trousers to find oat wbot wo* the matter. “Hen's a pretty itate of things I” exiba Professor, peoeiving his friend. •• The girl mast be ill—she hse not been up, and I ean't make her bear.” H ls the door locked 7' asked Johnson. u Tss," replied the Professor, after trying tbs bandies. 523

CUAPTEB XLIX, AI MUI.TiV Lr,u\ STATION’. Alma awoke with a feeling of peace and security to which ahe had long been a stranger. It was altogether too blissful! Her lover was true —her uncle was false—it was strange that she felt less sorrow than Joy at the remembrance of this last fact, and the dark cloud, which had overhung her future, had turned its silver lining, and glorifying what had for so long been gloom and shadow. She was in Harry's room I How delightful! All around were silent witnesses, which yet spoke their language to her heart, reminding her of their owner. His books, bis whips, bis spurs, his pipes—the thousand trifles which form the collection of a young man—possessed an enchanting interest for the girl, as she lay basking in the the flood of sunlight which poured through the window. It required a vigorous effort of tho will to break the charm, and spring out of bed -, but Alma accomplished the feat, and was almost dressed before Mrs.M'C'orkle came to call her. “Up already!" exclaimed ths old lady, in a cheery voice, and with a pleasant smile. “ Yes, Mrs. M'Corkle," replied the girl, “It would be wicked to remain in bed on this glorious morning. Besides to tell you the truth, I am awfully hungry." “ I am glad to hear it, my dear, though we have nothing very tempting to offer you. My husband clings to old habits, and makes his breakfast off porridge and milk ; but we have good butter, bacon and eggs, for us English folk. He says that people eat too much meat in Australia, and that meat-eating, and tea-drinking are tho curse of the country.” “Why what harm do they do 2” asked Alma. ••My husband was told by a doctor—a fellow-countryman ol bis—that they cause

hrnit disease, which is more prevalent here than at home. But, bless you I it’s only one of his fadsl”' '■ Well, the only disease of the heart I have won’t be hurt by a rasher of bacon, and a cup of tea, so I promise you I shall lower myteU in Mr. M'Corkle’a estimation as soon as bieakfast is ready,” eaid Alma, laughing merrily. Tiify bad walked out into the verandah, and, lor some minutes, Alma could do nothing but gaze and admire the view. The house stood half-way up the mountain,which shelved gradually downward to the plains. The distance being merely undulating ground, for the most part untimbered—would have been monotonous, bad it not been for its extent. As it was, it partook somewhat of the solemn grandeur of the ocean when viewed from an elevation. Indeed, the mirage of the plains became, at times, exactly like distant water, so that it required no great stretch of imagination to believe that one saw the sea in reality. Neater oases of bushy trees, a winding creek, and herds of browsing cattle lent a peaceful tone to the scene; whilst in the background were huge masses of rock, and gnailcd trees, covered with gigantic crepeers. Alma bad not half exhausted the beauties of the picture, when two stalwart urchins, accompanied by a number of dogs of all sizes and descriptions, came with a rush upon the verandah, and bounded up to Mrs, M'Corkle to say “ goodmorning.” 11 Less noise, you naughty children,” exclaimed the lady, as ebe kissed them. “ Now siy how-dy'e do to Miss Tredegar.” How do you do, my dears ?” said Alma, stooping and kissing them—an operation to which they submitted with evident distaste. 11 Which is Duncan and which is Sandy ?” " I'm Duncan,” replied the latter of the two, 11 and yon’s Sandy.” 11 I’ve heard all about you from Mr. Harry, and you murt not look upon me as a stranger. Now, who is going to show me around tbo garden after breakfast ?” “ Not me,” eaid Duncan. “ I'm going to thr shcepwash.” “ Not me, neither,” said his equally unpallant brother. " I’m going down with Duncan.” " Tor shame, boys 1” exclaimed their mither, really distressed at their rudeness, *• You mast excuse them, Miss Tredegar—they are not used to ladies, and, indeed, I am forry to say. spend most of their time with tire men. Their father does not care, and I have no time to spare to look after them. "Father likes us to learn to work lil.; said Duncan, proudly. “ I am not a bit r.r.noy: d at their refusal to accompany me,” said Aims. “ And win I is a shcepwash my dean'’ she asked ol Duncan. “ When; they wash the sheep—l thought everybody knew that,” “ I don’t kmw anything about station life, my dear—l never was at a station before, and 1 never saw a shcepwash.” "It’s such fun I" exclaimed Sandy, with animation. "You should just, eeo the cheep jump 1 I’ve seen a sheep jump a hurdle as tall as me!” "May I go with you to-day?” asked Alma. "Well, I don’t know,” replied Sandy. “ Ask Duncan.” But Duncan was racing over the lavra with the dogs, and Sandy ran to join him, ro the question was postponed, and Mrs. M'Corklc began a long disquisition about the trouble attendant upon tbo training and education of boys, which lasted until a noisy bell summoned them to breakfast. Me. M'Corkle gave Alma a warm greeting, and then proceeded to aak a blessing upon the meal, which, aa it amounted to a prayer of some minute’s duration, considerably astonished the young girl, who had been accustomed to a grace before meat which was sharp, short, and decisive. “ Wull ye no try the parritch, miss?” asked the overseer, when he had come to a finish and taken his scat, “If you please, Me. M'Corkle,” replied Alma. “ I don’t know whether I shall like it, for I never tasted porridge in all my life." “ Never ta s led porridge !” M Corklesighed, and the two boys stared open-mouthed at the guest, whom they began to regard as decidedly the worst kind of new-chum they had ever encountered. " It was a long time before 1 could get to like it,” said Mrs. M Corkle. “ I used to force myself to eat it to please Mr. M'Corkle —but that was when I was young and foolish —I don’t think I should go through such a martyrdom now.” “ ’Deed an’ ye wouldna,” said the overseer, drily. Alma helped herself to salt and milk as she had seen the others do—then she tasted the mixture, “I can’t eat it, Mr. M'Corkle.’’ she said, plaintively. " I must confess I think it very nasty.” M'Corkle groaned, the boys nudged one another, and looked more wondering than ever at this strange young woman; and Mrs. M'Corkle was about to come to the rescue when the door flew open, and in rushed Susie, pale and breathless. “ Oh, sir; oh" miss 1” she exclaimed. “ T hey are coming 1 They are here 1” “ What I What is the matter, Susie?” asked Alma, ball alarmed. ‘‘Tak’ time, young woman,” raid Mr. M'Corklc. “ Dinna hurry yerscl’. Noo, what is it ?’’ “ The Professor and Mr. Johnson are coming up the road !” Susie burst out, and then burst into tears. "Domthem!” exclaimed the, oversew, rising from his seat. "The L urd forgive me for swaring 1 I’ll sune settle w’ the dom acoondrela 1” "Stay, Mr. M'Corkle 1” said Alma, laying her hand upon his sleeve. "Do not be hasty with them. There is no necessity for any quarrel—l will see them in your presence, and tell them I am going to stay hero. They cannot make me go with them, and I am not afraid whilst you are with me.” " Ye’re a brave, brave, lassie!” said M'Corkle, admiringly. " Dinna fash yersel’, TU deal with them. Keep you in the hooso with the missus.” " It will bo best so,” said Mrs. M'Corkle, " I would rather have it out, ones for all,” Alma replied, resolutely. “Ifl do not go to them they will come again, and I think, it I do, they will see the folly of hoping to make mo change my resolution.” “ Maybe ye’re reoht,” said Mr. M Corkle. “ Como into the ©Hi as, then; they come on business, an’ we’ll meet them in the business room. You’re sairtain ye’re no afraid ?” “ Afraid 1” exclaimed Alma, with a curl of the lip and a flash of the eye, which told of the high spirit within. “ I should not be afraid to meet them alone—how much less, then, when you ate with mo, and I know that I am safe.” Loud barking of dogs now announced the arrival of the two conspirators, and Mr. M'Corkle went out to meet them, leaving Alma seated in the office—a roomy department, which served also as smokingroom and library. .Stephen Tredegar assumed his very best manner, aa ho enquired whether Mr. Lmcelles was at home—he knew that he was not but an affectation of ignorance is good policy under certain circumstances. ‘ He is not,” replied Mr. M'Corkle, curtly. “ Perhaps Mr. Henry Lascelles is within?” continued the Professor, in nowise abashed, for ho had calculated upon meeting with a cool reception.

•'No,” replied Mr. M'Corkle as before. “Can yon inform me when either cf the gentlemen ia likely to return home?” the Professor asked, still in his blandest tones. “ No, I canna,” replied M'Corkle. This was weary work, and Johnson, who lacked the coolnes of his companion, could stand it no longer. “Is Alma Tredegar here ?” he asked, almost rudely. M'Corkle looked at him steadily for a minute, then turned his head, and began whistling, “ Over the water to Charlie.” “ Contusion 1” exclaimed Johnson. " Did you hear me, man ? ’ “I harrd ye wed enouch baith times, an’ Ido raysel' the honor to inform ye that if ye speak till me again I’ll thrash ye till ye're no able to win hame 1” This was said with an air of determination which carried conviction to the mind of the bearer at once, and Johnson subsided, mentally deciding that in any personal encounter he would be overmatched by the huge Scotchman. The Professor, who was much annoyed at this episode, again took up the running. “ May I ask whom I have the honor of addressing 7” he enquired, almost respectfully. “ Ye may,” replied M'Corkle. “Well, air?” said the Professor, after a pause. “Awed? What is it?” “ I asked to be favored with your name.” “Na," said Mr. M'Corkle. “Ye asked mi'jht ye ask my name, and I said ye might." What is your name then ?”—lt was difficult to keep cool, but .Stephen Tredegar showed no sign even of impatience. “ I’m no in the habit o’ telling my name to ilka a men that epeers.” “ We had better come to an understanding at once, my friend,” said the Professor with a slight change of manner,which betrayed his extreme irritation. “Pardon me, sir ; ye ca’ me your frien’, non, to the best of my knowledge, we never met before, an’ 1 canna say I am the frien’ of any stranger.” “ My name is Stephen Tredegar, and I came here for my niece and ward, Alma Tredegar, who is now in this house,” said the Professor, coming to the point at last. “Oh ayl” ejaculated M'Corkle, coolly. An’ wha’ told ye that, Mr. Stephen Tredegar?” "No matter —it is sufficient that I know it. Will you admit me to sea her?” •' Sairtainly. Step this way if you please.” Mr. M Ccrkla had sufficiently amused himeolf, so he led them into the office where Alrna etiil sat waiting. “Mr. Stephen Tredegar an’frien’,” Mr. M Corkle announced, in footman style, standing by the door and ushering them in. Alma neither moved nor spoke. “ Alma,” began the Professor, without daring to offer to salute her. “ What is the meaning of this ?” “ Will I gia them chairs ?” asked Mr. MCirklc. Afina bowed her head, stifling an inc'ination to laugh, and Mr. MCorklo handed a chair to each of them, and then retreated behind the lady, where he stood, erect and defiant, with one hand resting on the back of her chair. “ I ask,” said the Professor, repeating his question, “what is the meaning of this mad freak of yours ?” “ It moans,” she replied, slowly and deliberately, "that henceforth wc must be strangers. I thank you for the care you took of me in former days, and, whenever it is in my power, I will repay to you the money you have spent upon my account. I do not think there ia anything more to be said.” “ Oh, yes, but there is though T’ exclaimed Johnson,who could no longer restrain himself. “ Aro you going to marry me ?” “ I am not, sir,” replied Alma, frigidly. “ Did not you promise to marry me ?’’ 11 That promise was extorted from me by fraud, I withdraw it.” “ Then, by Heaven 1 I’ll have the law of you 1” shouted Johnson, banging his first upon the table at his side. “ Mr. Stephen Tredegar," said Mr. M'Corkle, slowly, and without moving a muscle of bis countenance, “ that parson is apparently a friend of yours, I'd advise ye to tell him to keep quiet, or I’ll bundle him oot o’ thehoose." “ Hold your tongue, Johnson 1” said the Professor, angrily. “ This ia my business at present—leave me to finish.” Johnson muttered an oath, sat down, got up again, and finally walked outside—he was literally sulfaring from a desire to indulge in a little profanity, and was compelled to seek the open air. Stephen Tredegar resumed “ Am I to understand that you refuse to come homo with me?” “I do refuse," said Alma. " I will never again enter the house which owns you lor its master —so help me heaven 1” “Amenl" ejaculated Mr. M'Corkle, reverently. “ Sir,” said the Professor, turning angrily to him—" I do not know who you are, but I warn you that this girl is under age ; that I am her lawful guardian, and that if you harbour her I shall proceed against you for abduction I” " My soleeoitors are Ross and M'Nab,” replied Mr. M'Corkle, sententiously. “ Ross an’ M'Nab Eleozabeth-street, Sydney—they will accept service on my behalf. ’ But the Professor paid no heed to this remark, he had determined upon a new line of at'aok, and assuming his tenderest tone, he asked Alma whether she really meant what she said, whether she would really leave him, who loved her as a father, to seek protection from a stranger. “ Do you remember a certain letter which you showed me?” asked Alma, in icy tones. “ A letter which you said had been obtained from a young woman, and which was signed ‘ Harry Lasoelles ’ ?” " Yes,” the Professor replied, at last seeing his way clear. " That letter was forged I And you knew ithere the girl stood up, and pointed her finger at him, as if ia denunciation. “ You suppressed my letters to him—you intercepted his letters to me, sit! And you boast of your villainy to your wretched associate I I have no more to say. Will you open the door forme, Mr. M'Corkle?—Alma walked proudly out of the room, without deigning another ghnee at her undo, who stood, for tbs moment, cowed and humiliated. " Non, Mr. Stephen Tredegar,” said Mr. M'Corkle, after he had carefully closed the door, “ ye maun see that ye've lost the game —put up ycr cards, noo, and try to lead an honest life in future.” The Professor turned—the wild light of fury blazing in his eyes—" PU make her sutler yeti” he hissed between his teeth. "Ha! By heaven I have it; Are you awaro, sir—you, who protect this insolent girl—l say, are you aware that she is a thief ?” M't 'orkle clenched bis fist and a step. “ Touch me and I’ll shoot you like a dogl" exclaimed the Professor, taking a small revolver from his pooket. “ I was not such a fool as to come here unarmed. Listen to me: that girl and her accomplice, Susan Brown, stole a buggy and pair, and to-morrow night they shall lie in Bathurst gaol 1 Aha I Thai touches you, 1 see 1 You will scarce afford her shelter now 2” To be continued,