A Sensible Woman.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXV, Issue XXVI, 29 December 1900, Page 1224

A Sensible Woman.

By

MRS. HARRIS, AUCKLAND.

Tms story was awarded Fourth Prize in our Christmas Competition.

CHAPTER 1. A trackless waste of tussock ground spreading far away in the sunset glow till lost in the purple haze beyond. Further the towering peaks of snowenow ned mountains were outlined against a grey sky, just streaked with crimson and a gleam of gold. This was what Jessie Komisky saw as she stood still a moment on the bridle track that led across the hills to the Canterbury Plains; and her heart beat so strangely that she wondered whether there was any truth in the term “broken heart,” or if anyone could die of grief, as she had read in books. She had come out alone from the Old Country to seek her fortune in this new, strange land. No friends, no parents. All had died or left her, and she stood alone in the world, with a very scant pittance between her and poverty —such poverty as the soul of a gentlewoman born naturally shrinks from. Genteel poverty, that skimps and plans to make a shilling go as far as half-a-erown: that tries to hide its pain beneath a. smile, and bears up bravely even with a nameless vacuum stead of a breakfast; she had become acquainted with personally during her mother's lifetime, when the two lived in furnished apartments in Bayswater, and wrought fancy work for bazaars and fancy repositories. But grim poverty, that could no longer resifle in a select neighbourhood. or allow of even the most carefully mended gloves or well turned clothing; poverty that pinched the life out of one by small degrees till one literally froze and starved, and could not apply for work for lack of clothes to appear in; this thing, with its nameless terrors. Jessie was afraid of. Her young blond froze at the thought of possibilities, when pride and love should both be stamped under foot by the iron heel of want. So after the funeral, after waiting some few days in hope that Charlie Forester, her lover of better days, would at least call or express his sympathy for her bereavement; waiting for the postman with feverish impatience, only to be crushed by the sight of his familiar uniform passing by. Jessie determined to face the world for and by herself. She gave up the rooms which had so long been “home,” settled all the accounts, studied the small margin shown by her bank book, sold everything the small rooms contained to a dealer, then packed her trunk and went out into the park for half an hour to think. A firm decision made, she wrote a letter to Charlie, then tore it up as quickly.

After bidding the kind hearted landlady good-bye. she hailed a cab, went to the shipping office, took out her second-class ticket as a passenger by the good ship Clematis, and with a parting sigh for Charlie's faithlessness prepared to leave England for

That was just how it happened that Jessie Komisky came to Lyttelton alone, and stood now looking at the strange prospect from the hillside. Among the passengers she had made, few friends; everyone seemed so intent upon their own affairs. She was reserved, and would not intrude her troubles upon a stranger's ears. Some supposed she was coming out ti.be married; some suggested a possible brother, who had sent for her; others thought she might be a governess going out to some stationholder’s family, as such were rare luxuries in t hose days.

This latter proved after all the nearest guess, for .lessie, following the example of her fellow passengers, made the pilgrimage across the hills to the little square *>f shanties and modest houses, small hotels, etc, which formed the nuel< us of future greatness, and made he- way to a registry office, where she found what she wanted, namely, work, the best and safest panacea for sorrow. An English lady living on a distant station needed a governess for her

little daughter. Thus ran the advertisement, and Jessie, applying, was immediately accepted as a new arrival, much preferred by the ofttimes homesick lady, as bringing with her aimost a breath of the dear English air, socially at least, which would link on the prosaic station life with the heart throbs of the Home Laud.

It was long before the time of railways, so the journey was performed for the most part by coach, the remaining miles in a carrier's waggon bearing a supply of stores to the station.

Scattered homesteads, miles apart, for at present settlers were few, the life of isolation and struggle not proving so remunerative as often represented on paper.

Floods had devastated the district through which they passed, and consequent less of sheep had reduced the aiready vicarious income of the struggling farmer. At length they came to a swollen river, which must be crossed somehow, a fresh experience for Jessie, but she g<ot through bravely with nothing worse than a- wetting, and had her reward in seeing a eurl of smoke 'ascending from a huge wodden chimney connected with a low - lying shanty, around which a group of men were assembled to hear the latest news and receive goods from the car-

“Is this Havenside?” asked that worthy of a youth whlo came up to hold the horses.

“Yes; up yonder is the house. It’s a rough bit of road, and not very safe after dark. If you've to go there you'd best be smart,” was the reply. “Well. I've a passenger to-day fon there, a. lady, tolo, and I reckon I’ll just get on. and talk to you boys as I come back.” said the carrier.

On, therefore, they rumbled over the rough road, the deep ruts of which threatened to overturn waggon and occupants; but in less than an hour they eame up to the little hiomestead, and found themselves eagerly expected.

A thin, pale lady, a little girl of seven; these were the dwellers at Havenside, together with a faithful henchman, and two serving women, who had accompanied their young lady when she left her father’s home, a young bride, to make a home in this distant land.

How wearily long those years had seemed! For Edw’ard Rothsay had not proved all her fond heart hoped he would, consequently long days and weeks of neglect and loneliness had aged the brave little lady of Havenside. and her face presented a very wistful look as she welcomed the newcomer just “from home.”

“You are tired, dear,” said Mrs. Rothsay. “Maggie, you will bring in a cup of tea, and I will take Miss Komisky to ner room.” So the kind little woman bustled about, and Jessie's heart grew tender toward her, the first friend in a strange land. Little Mamie seemed so lovable, too, as she eame nestling up to her new governess, with a half-snv smile of welcome.

The carrier had departed, Jessie’s luggage had been taken to her room, and Mrs. Rothsay sat sipping her tea contemplatively, watching the quiet figure and serious face beside her. She felt the girl had a sorrow, her black dress showed bereavement; but her fave told a further story, one with which Mrs. Rothsay's own heart was well acquainted—the sorrow of love unrequited.

So these two came to understand each other, and again the promise was fulfilled. “He shall set the solitary in families.” As the days passed, Mrs. Rothsay grew brighter. Jessie was content, while little Mamie gave her new governess all the love she could possibly spare from her dear mama, and papa that was in England.

Yes. that was the trouble of Havenside; papa was in England, and troubled himself very little about the

dear oues who fondly watched for every mail.

The station was managed well by Rufus Lil worth, and as long as the returns were satisfactory, and financial need did not trouble Havenaide the owner was content to amuse himself amid English society, and enjoy the life of an “absentee.” His letters told of races, hunts dinners, banquets, with here and there a word of homeliness, which the hungering reader strove to make the most of. “ You must let me know if you want anything, Elsie,” he wrote; “do not run short. Send McDougal to town to meet the next vessel; I have sent you a box of ‘fine linen,’’and trinkets for yourself and Mamie; kiss the little one for me. Love from your loving husband, Edward.”

This was all, no word of his wanting her, no word of his return; and no thought of her tears during those lonely days on the station; these were the things which hurt Mrs. Rothsav. and caused her to step softly, while the song would be hushed half-sung that Edward used to love in the davs when she would have followed him to the furthest point in the universe for he was the hero of her dreams, the love of her youth. CHAPTER 11. Rufus Lilworth pulled up his horse threw the reins to McDougal, and ran up the steps to the little office where he was wont to consult Mrs. Rothsav whenever there was occasion. As he bowed himself in, he eame face to face with Mamie and her governess, who were prepared for riding, just bidding that lady good-bye. He had never met Miss Komisky before. though he had heard of the new 7 importation, having himself carried the advertisement to town. In her new hat and habit, Jessie presented a graceful enough figure for human eyes to rest on, her bronze hair curled in wilful little wavelets over her brow and neck; her pure complexion had grown healthier since her arrival, her step was elastic; her figure straight and not too tall; a goodly specimen of a young English gentlewoman, Rufus thought, as he accepted the introduction given very graciosuly by Mrs. Rothsay. It took less time than that in which I write it, but in that brief space •lessie had formed her opinion of the manager; and it was not a favourable one. He was tall, dark, handsome enough, his address not unpleasing; yet. to Jessie, there seemed somethin-’--too assertive in his manner, something too dominant in his tone as he spoke to Mrs. Rothsay; and certainly too tree for a first acquaintance with herself.

I erliaps it is the way in the colonies. she thought; “men appear different here.” Yet chivalry could surely be as much appreciated here as in Bond-street or the Row.

His searching glance was little less than a stare, and Jessie’s quick colour rose, as she hastened her little charge and eagerly left the room. Nothing daunted, however, by her evident confusion, Rufus Lilworth. having dispatched his business, which consisted in the delivery of some receipts to Mrs. Rothsay, was soon remounted, and, following the road taken by Jessie, quickly overtook the young equestrians. “You will find it rather dull on the station. Miss Komisky!” he exclaimed as ne came up with them. “If vou will allow me, I will accompany you ror a canter across this bit of plain: m P '' et Spot about three miles and Where ° ne Could dismo ”"t

I must not be away from home long, thank you!” was the reply, “as I have promised Mamie her music lesson, and have also to learn some accompaniments for Mrs. Rothsay” By her manner he could see his services were unwelcome; yet with utter nonehalenee he kept beside her and 1 efused to notice her confusion. A very silent half-hour was the result. when Jessie declared her intention to return, and took little Mamie's rein to turn the pony’s head homewards. ,

“Mamie, would you not like to see the springs yonder?” asked the man ager, placing his horse in front of the path, entirely ignoring the evident desire of Jessie.

"No. Mr Lilworth,” replied the littl» lady, naively. “If Miss Komisky says we go home, So we do”; and Rufus was nonplussed, though not defeated, as a thin gleam of white teeth showing between his lips betrayed his vexation, and a flush on his face told of a resolve

to be even with her another day. However, for now he let them turn, bowing obsequiously to Jessie with a cold sneer on his handsome face. So from that day there was a feud between them, and Jessie felt the first forebodings of coming ill disturb her newly found peace.Strange to say Mrs Rothsay possessed the greatest possible faith in Rufus Lilworth. He had been her husband’s college chum; his people were well connected; she had known his sister in her' girlhood, and when Edward Rothsay had told her of the application for the post of manager she had thrown her atom of weight into the scale of acceptance. He seemed a link of the old life, almost a brother at times, and she could not understand Jessie’s evident disinclination for his further acquaintance. "Poor girl! She must be engaged to someone else,” thought the kind hearted lady, “and perhaps he is a scamp.” She sincerely liked Jessie, whose presence had brightened the home life of Havenside not a little, who was ever ready to sing, play, sew, ride, read aloud, or talk of English scenes and people, as her hostess —as Mrs Rothsay liked to be called—might wish, and whom Mamie simply idolised. A most efficient nurse too proved Jessie, for when Mamie took a feverish cold, and cruel croup threatened her her little life, it was Jessie’s prompt measures and clear preception that came to the resene; and no hand could soothe the little sufferer like ffers, no voice hill her to sleep like the sweet, low tones of her young governess. So passed the weeks and months quickly away. No mail brought any welcomed Home letter to Jessie. She was quite alone in the world, and these new surroundings absorbed all her love and care.

If sometimes a wistful thought would wing its way across the broad Pacific it never seemed to take form or attract to itself an answering chord of love. All was silent, and the past seemed buried, save in memory.

Rufus Lilworth was wont to bring home the mail bag from the little bush post office he passed ton his daily rounds. On one particular occasion there was given to him a paper addressed to Miss Komisky, and simply out of curiosity he drew it from its wrapper to read the news. An advertisement caught his eye: — “If this should find Jessie Komisky, who left London on June 18 ■ —, will she please communicate with Charles Forester, G.P.Oi, Melbourne. Still’ true.”

Here, he thought, -was the._solution of the mystery. She loved another. If she could be made to believe that other false tor dead he might at last prevail. Should he deliver this paper? Again and again the thought of evil was suggested until in a lonely spot of road, wheru no one saw him save God’s watchful angels, Rufus lit a match and watched the last scrap of that paper as it curled and blackened at his feet. There! It was done. Now she might never know that Charlie was faithful, or at least not until she was the wife tof another, and that other should be himself. So he rode on, and that very night he sought Jessie, declared his love, only to be refused, re» pulsed, with quiet dignity, and told that love for him was impossible.

Chagrined, baffled, he retired, determined, however, to bide his time, and in some way obtain power tn gain his end. CHAPTER 111. “I hear we are to have some near neighbours,” said Rufus one day, .-as he presented himself at early lunch. “Some new arrivals have taken up the next block, and we shall soon see a flourishing station. A house is to be built without delay.” “Oh, I am indeed glad,” cried Mrs Rothsay. “Have ytou heard the name of the newcomer?” “Mr and Miss Hepworth, late of Hepworth Manor, Berks, having met with reverses, after the manner of many, desire to retrench and mend their fortunes By becoming sheep farmers and wool growers in this lonely land,” said Rufus; “and very gtood neighbours they should prove,” “Squire Hepworth has always kept his pack and followed the hunt. I believe his horses were far-famed too, and have been the means of bringing him to grief. However, he will soon find plenty of sport here, and if he can retrieve his fallen fortunes will soon

keep his htouuds again, I trust. Miss Komisky, have you ever ridden to a hunt?"

“No,” replied Jessie. “1 have passed most of my time in the town, with exceptional visits to health resorts with mamma. I have never even seen a hunt.”

“Then the sooner you learn to fob low the hounds the better,” was the reply, “and I will tcaeh ytou.” “1 had much rather be excused, Mr Lilworth, thunk you,” said Jessie, as she rose from the table. “It is but cruel sport at best, and I prefer to remain at home.”

“You two are always sparring,” said Mrs Rothsay. “It would be simply lovely. Miss Komisky, to see a hunt once' more. I often node with my father when 1 was at Home.” Jessie only shook her head and left the room, with Mamie clinging to her hand. Then Rufus spoke out. “I do wonder why that girl dislikes me? I am hopelessly in love with her, and she knows it. 1 would do all in my power to make her happy, but she shuns me at every point, cannot you help me, Mrs Rothsay?”

. “Win her I must, there is not another girl in the colony whom I could love as I love her, she must and shall love me, or ” “Or wliat. Mr Lilworth? You cannot force affection; you must, have patience. Jessie is a good girl, worthy of any man’s choice; she will see in time how devotedly you love her. and appreciate your patient steadfastness.”

But Rufus thought of that paper. And meanwhile Jessie was thinking io herself, “If he does not desi-t from his detestable attentions, I shall have to leave this home, and seek a livelihood elsewhere.”

So in due time the Hepworth house was finished, the surrounding outbuildings completed; numbers of men employed upon the estate, fencing, ploughing-, draining, planting, ete., and at last the family themselves arrived upon the scene. There was the Squire, his three sons, two daughters, and last, but.not least, the maiden aunt who had taken upon her portly shoulders the responsibil’ty of conducting the household management, and chaperoning the daughters of her widowed brother; for all of which kind and arduous responsibilities she declared she obtained but poor thanks. “Indeed, my dear,”: the good lady exclaimed on the occasion of Mrs. Rothsay’s first call, “it is no light matter 1 have undertaken; I assure you; and my brother Samuel only smiles at my difficulties, and says, “girls will be girls, you cannot put old heads on young shoulders.” It’s all very fine, but suppose a mesalliance should occur in the house of Hepwort’ll, I wonder what brother Samuel would say? “He would be the first to complain bitterly of the want of training, of the loss of a good mother, etc. Indeed, Mrs Rothsay,” continued Miss Hepworth, “I should get all the blame.” “My dear Miss Hepworth,” replied the amused little lady, “indeed you need have no manner of fear of such a catastrophe occurring here; there are simply no men, except the labourers, shearers, anti a manager here and there. You. see the town, such as it Is, is a safe distance away, and I am sure you will not be troubled with many visitors here; if you wish to keep your nieces single, you have done quite the right thing to bring them here.”

“Mrs Rothsay, I am not so sure. I actually saw a man critically eyeing us the other day; a gentlemanly looking fellow enough, but I’ve no dOubt a nobody.” "Oh, I suppose it was our manager, Rufus Lilworth, you need not fear him; his heart is lost to a really nice girl, who does not know when she has a good chance; and he is well connected at Home. My husband visits his people.” Somewhat consoled, poor Miss Hepworth looked with less suspicious eyes upon Rufus after this; indeed, riding parties were formed, and Mr Lilworth was always one of the number. Picnics were arranged, and then he could not be overlooked, for he made himself so necessary to them all, so obliging, and attentive, indeed Aunt Hester became quite charmed by the way in which he managed and arranged everything for their comfort. Jessie became a great favourite with them all, especially with Ellen and Alice; for they were wont to declare that Aunt Hester was “horrid,” and life was not worth living; and a thou-

sund other things which Jessie’s bright fave and charm of manner helped them to forget. Time ;>assed very pleasantly that summer; and then a letter oaim* which filled Mrs Rothsay’s heart with dismay.

It was from her husband’s sister, telling of Edward Rothsay’s sudden illness and death at his father’s home in Berkshire.

Overcome with grief, the widow at last decided to leave Havenside Station in the hands of Rufus Lilworth, anti return to England with her little girl, and a faithful nurse.

Rufus and Jessie accompanied her to Lyttelton, anti saw the poor lady off on her homeward journey.

Then it was that Rufus renewed his appeal, sure, that now he was virtually master,.Jiving at the house, she would accept him. But he had reckoned without his host. Jessie declared that "she would never return to Havenside, and she would never be his wife.”

A wild idea entered the mind of Rufus. "Jessie,” he said, “you must hear me; 1 know why you always refuse me; you love another—a Charlie Forester in England. Relieve me, I heard of his death from Harold Hepworth, but. to save you sorrow, I kept it from you. I destroyed the paper that had the notice. But now, dear, in it any use waiting for him any longer? Come to me, and I swear I will make you the happiest, woman in Canterbury. Jessie, don’t you see how I love you. I cannot live" without you.”

"Hush, Mr Lilworth,” cried the gill, whose face had grow n suddenly whi e and set. "However you obtained the knowledge of Mr Forester’s death, and whatever you may know about him. I hold it a cowardly thing of you to trade upon such knowledge; arid again I tell you. that. I will never be your wife. Leave me, I wish to see you no more.”

So Rufus returned alone to Havenside; and Jessie obtained a situation as assistant to a lady who kept a dry goods store in the township. Here was change of scene and occupation, which was decidedly a. benefit. Mrs Lucas speedily found out the value of her assistant, and after a year or so, pffered her a partnership, which Jessie accepted, placing ail her small capital in the business, and thus became quite a small capitalist. Time passed, Mrs Lucas became so attahed to Jessie, that she placed , the fullest confidence in her, and presently retiring through uncertain health, enabled Jessie to purchase by degrees the whole of the business. By this time -Christchurch had grown a.considerable town; prosperity was apparent all around, and some really fine buildings were in course of erection. Sometimes the Hepworths eame to town, and poor Aunt Hester would confide her griejf. to that “very sensible young person, Jessie Konisky.” Ellch was married to Rufus Lilworth; Alice engaged to a young surveyor, ami actually the old Squire, instead of buying a pack of hounds, as had been anticipated, had taken to himself a young wife, the only daughter of an officer who had retired upon his pension, In a. pleasant little home on the Avon.

“Well, Aunt Hester,” replied Jessie, at the end of the recital, “there is only one remedy. You should follow their example.” Now, whether the good lady really took Jessie’s words to heart, or whether it was purely an accidental occurrence, has never really transpired, but this is certain, according to the “Press" of the day-, that Miss Hepworth, of Hepworth .Manor, Berks, England., was married to Captain Charles Jackson of the ship "Goodwin,” on a certain day therein recorded.

And thus ended the most important episode of Aunt-Hester’s life. Just at this time Mrs Lucas died, and as she had neither kith nor kin, she left all her worldly goods to Jessie Konisky, in recognition of her kind services during her illness, etc. Jessie thus became comparatively a rich won/m, and of course offers of marriage were not- wanting, all of which she most steadily refused, and why ?

Because one night shortly after Mrs Rothsay’s departure, she had had a dream, in which she saw her young lover, Charlie Forester, standing on a sandy plain, beneath a scorching sun. A long line of camels passed slowly by, tired, patient beasts, looking exhausted evidently for lack of food. Then all

were lost to sight and only Charlta rt-insined. standing alone, stretching out his hands to her, saying in lux own familiar voice. “Jess, wait. Tf T live I will come. Wait!” und he faded fAnnr her sight. ,

S<> she waited still, so firm was her conviction that he lived. »

Tlie years passed. Streaks of gr«-4. appeared among the strands of gold,' and Jessie realised in many ways that she was not growing younger. No word had ever come, yet still she felt lie lived, and she yet would meet him.

One day a ship came in to Lyttelton, and among her passengers was a fall’,' dark man, whose bronzed face told of much travel and toll. Eagerly be looked around, and seeing a newsboy, called for a paper. Scanning the pages-’ hastily, he seemed to find what her wanted, tor without further comment, with only a stern, set look on his face,' a smldenfired hope in liis eye. lie set out for Christchurch. He reached it! ere long, the pretty little town, sof neatly ‘laid out around the central! square, ami again referring to hist paper, turned towards the street lid sought, tlmt led to Miss drapery establishment.

He looked around a little, then eutere:l. and addressed a smart young; l-.uly at the counter, asking "If ML*s Konisky could be seen?” I

Presently there came to him »' woman, calm browed, steadfast eyed, with that look of waiting in her eyes which only he could read.

He stretched out Ills hand to her, and said: “Jess, my Jess, is it really you?”

And she? She never cried, or fainted, or did anything of the kind. She only laid her hand upon his arm, and took him aside into the office beyond. Them she looked him in the eyes, and said:“So you have come home to me, Charlie?”

“Yes, my love. I have sought the colonies through for you. I went to Australia, thinking you were there;: advertised for you. got no reply;thought you were lost to me. I went on an expedition with Burket and Wills, and just escaped with thy, life. They all died, even the camels, in' the desert, some by hunger, others by, the blacks.

Then I came to Sydney again, then to New Zealand, and in Auckland. I saw the “Press,” and your name. I would not write, it might not have been you, you know; but Jess, it is. Am I too late?” ~ , “No, Charlie, I saw you in the desert. I'knew you would comb.” ' And then, only then, he folded lief in his arms, and let the hot tears fall that, only a strong man sometimes sheds, upon her face as she rested on his heart.

They were very quietly married, anilpeople wondered why Miss Konisky. should marry such a nobody as he; but as she herself appeared perfectly satisfied, it really mattered little what other folks thought. Handsome presents came from Squire Hepworth, whose regard for her was very great; also from,- Mrs Captain Jackson, amt the rest of the family. Also in due time, a package from England from Mrs Rothsay, who had never forgotten those old days. Charlie Forester told his wife all the story of his seeming faithlessness, how his people had kept him from any, knowledge of her mother’s death, or. her whereabouts, sending him on a Continental agency in desperate haste. How, on his return, he had sought in vain for her, till at last he learned she had gone to the colonies. With this vague direction he had started in pursuit, the result being weary years of search, which ended at last in happy reunion.

“Never mind, Charlie, better late' than never,” was her reply.

The sunset flow is on the close of life; we leave them there, true nm„n and happy wife.