THE MAN FROM AUSTRALIA

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXIV, Issue 5, 1 February 1906, Page 23

THE MAN FROM AUSTRALIA

John Everiil stood on the steps of the Langham Hotel, absently (watching the passers-by /and smoking a cigar that had cost him eighteen pence, though to his unsophisticated taste it had less flavor than many he had bought at the rate of seven for a shilling. As he stood there, silent and almost motionless, two or three young men idly wondered for whom the ' shabby-looking Johnnie ' was waiting, and several cabmen, before turning away, said,in dubious manner, 'Hansom, sir ? ' being in no way surprised when he shook his head. At last, however, he threw away his halfsmoked cigar, and as he sauntered down Regent street repeated the words that had been 'his unspoken thought on waking : ' Forty years old — a bachelor — a rich man — and one of the loneliest wretches on God's earth.' Out in Australia, where for sixteen years he had worked as only men who have no ties to distract their attention can work, he had never felt so desolate. For the first five of these sixteen years he had wandered about doing little more than keep himself. Then he had ' chummed ' in with another unattached unit, and the two — as they sometimes confessed to each other when they happened to be in one of the solitary places that tempt men to exchange confidences — having neither of them any particular reason for making money, had made it ' hand over fist.' But in the end, and by slow degrees, John's chum seemed to lose his interest in work. He grew restless, complained of the monotonous Australian fare, laughed when his friend insisted on having a doctor's opinion, and to the suggestion of the latter that he should take a holiday, said curtly, ' I'm going to have one, Doc' 'The next day he died, with the brief farewell, ' I'm tired of money-grubbing ; left you all I have, old chum. Go home.' So John bought a iready-made black suit, put a crape band on his hat and went home ; only to find himself ten times more lonely than he had ever felt in the Australian bush. Relations he had none. Of the friends he had known before leaving England, some were married ,and indifferent to the shy bronzed man who reminded ,them of a past they had forgotten ; some were dead, others had gone to the dogs. Probably the majority of the half-strange men and their wholly-strange wives would have made John more welcome had they known how much he had to give or to lend, , but money was the last thing of which John himself wished to speak, and he did not look rich. At the corner of Oxford street John paused to glance at the masses of color in the fiower-women's baskets, his glance wandering from the flowers to the omnibuses that drove up and went on again to their various destinations. Amongst them one marked Hendon specially attracted his attention, for the Hcndon he remembered was a village, and it occurred to him to see how the place had altered would be a good way ol passing the afternoon. He therefore ran up the steps, took a seat on the top, and looked about him with careless curiosity until the omnibus stopped opposite St. John's Wood Station. Here, however, his senses became alert, for there on the pavement in the May sunshine stood the double of a ghost that had been his companion through the hours of many a sleepless night — a ghost with reddish brown hair, hazel eyes, and a delicate oval face, probably somewhat paler than nature had intended. Even the flop hat trimmed with a bunch of big daisies that was worn by the • double,' as well as her pale blue blouse and black skirt, reminded him of the bygone fashions affected by the ghost. So, hardly daringi to breathe, John looked and listened whilst the girl said a few words to a companion standing beside her, after which both came ' up-stairs ' and took seats in front of John. 'Oh! 1 sighed the ' double,' fresh air at last.' This afternoon that schoolroom was intolerable.' "My dear, the room's not so bad. It's the bratlings in it I can't stand. Sometimes I feel that I'd give a quarter's salary to have a chance of slapping' them all round.' 'Well, I 'could get along if they didn't havei so many colds. And not one in ten has a pocket-handker-chief.' '* No, though the Government might so easily 'put another ha'penny on; the rate and buy a few thousands,' •was the laughing rejoinder. ' But do let's forget our miseries for an hour. How's your aunt, Di ? ' IDi ! ' And the ghost's name had been Diana,

' Better. You see, now we're living in a real big cottage in a real big (garden. You can't think how lively it is.' 1 For you ? Oh, yes, I can. I'm not quite sure' that it would suit me. Is your aunt busy ? ' ' Not very. She's nearly finished that miniature you saw. But it won't do her any harm to have a rest.' ' No, provided the shekels will come in while she's resting,' was the shrewd retort. And after this the speaker indulged in a long monologue respecting the deficiencies of her wardrobe and the chance of supplying those denciencies when the summer sales came on. Meanwhile John Everiil lurtively watched ' Di,' and though in some respects she was unlikfe the ghost, in others the resemblance was unmistakable. The little gestures implying yes or no with which she punctuated her friend's monologue, the turn of her head, the slight dissimilarity between the shape of her ears recalled his nightly visitant, and he felt that fortune was doing lilm a good turn when at the Swiss Cottages her companion descended and went orf in the direction of Kilburn. Still, it was not easy to find an excuse for speaking to the girl, and the chance of doing so might have been lost had not Di caught the chain of her handbag in a bangle she was wearing, and in doing so detached a small coin that rolled under John's feet. ' Chinese ? ' he said, with a smile, as he put it in her hand. 1 Thank you. Yes, it's Chinese.' ' And nowadays rather rare. 1 have one of the same date. I've carried it about for a good many years and should be very sorry to lose it.' Now, having been well brought up, Di had a number of unwritten laws by which to guide her conduct in emergencies, and was quite capable of snubbing any stranger who might speak to her on the top of an omnibus, but John had the honest deep-set eyes that inspire confidence ; his manner was diffident, his hands and clothes were unmistakably those of a worker, so the girl, always/ reluctant to hurt the feedings of others, said pleasantly : ' And if my coin had rolled off the top of the omnibus I must have searched in the road till it was found. I should not have gone home without it.' ' Then it was probably a gift ? ' ' Yes, a Christmas present. My aunt had it years ago from an old fnend, and gave it to me when I got my post at the Board School. It was to be a sort of lucky farthing/ ' And has it brought you luck ? ' he asked. ' Not much, I^m afraid. But of course it must have time. A talisman can't be hurried.' ' No.' Then after a pause he went on in a changed tone, '.I suppose people never discuss secrets on the top of an omnibus ? ' ' I suppose not.' This was a little surprise. ' So you will not be offended if I say that I heard you speaking about a miniature your aunt is painting? ' 'Oh ! of course, that does not matter. No one need be ashamed of working.' ' And, to tell the truth,' he resumed apologetically, 1 I was rather interested in the matter. As it happens, I want a couple of old photographs copied. By an artist, I mean.' Di glanced quickly at the speaker and wondered whether he knew that the painting of miniatures was slow work, and its payment possibly beyond his means. ' UnJess you have a reason for valuing the portraits,' she began, with some hesitation, ' you might think it sufficient to have them copied by a photographer. Miniatures are—' 1 Expensive ? ' he suggested. ' Well— yes. Oh ! please don't think that rude.' 1 I don't. On the contrary, I think it kind. But what do you call expensive ? ' "My aunt's fee is two guineas.' 1 Good. I can afford that, and as I want the work done soon, will you let me come on -with you now ? I'll pay for, one miniature in advance and send a photograph? to your aunt to-morrow. Will that be convenient ? ' ' Quite convenient,' answered Di, half inclined to believe that at last her coin was beginning to bring her luck, and for the rest of the journey she and John compared notes on the London he remembered and the London she knew until the omnibus stopped and she led the way to a quaint little cottage standing some distance from the highroad, where, among the old-fashioned flowers he loved so well, John met the reality of hjs ghost, the Diana remembered too faithfully for his peace of mind through so many tedious years. But time had dealt no more kindly with her than "with him, and meeting casually in the street, they

would have passed each other as stranlgers. His hair was growing gray ; on hers there was no longer a golden sheen. His face was tanned with wind and weather ; the pink and white of her complexion faded to an ivory pallor, and his heart ached when, struggling against an impulse of pitying tenderness, he paid his two guineas, gave the name of his chum as his own, and stipulated that he should be allowed to come several times before the miniature was finished, in order to give the artist hints on ' coloring.' Then he went back to the hotel, posted his chum's portrait to ' Miss Diana Leeson,' and for the first time since he had been in England ate his dinner as if he had been hungry. The next day, for the simple reason that he had nothing better to do, at least that was his version of the matter, he made his way to the cottage, laughing in a shame-faced fashion as he thought! of. the amusement it would have afforded old Fred could he have heard his friend and the artist gravely discussing the color of his eyes, the exact shade of his hair, the improvement that might be effected by the substitution of a more amiable expression for the frown, partly due to the chum's dislike to being ' taken,' partly to the glaring light of the open-air sitting. But when on five successive days the Hendon omnibus dropped John Everill at the same spot, and John Everill, with the same deprecating air, informed Miss Leeson that he was not quite sure that his description of his friend's nose or chin had been sufficiently clear on the preceding day, why Di the younger began to indulge in irreverent remarks concerning the unnecessary fuss that was being made about the likeness of a very commonplace person, and that person ' only a man,' remarks heard by Di the elder with the tolerance of thirty-six for nineteen. However, the painting of a miniature, even the miniature of a dead chum, cannot occupy more than a certain length of time, so at last John had to confess that nothing more could be done. Indeed, he knew that the sight of that carefully-shaded portrait would have moved his friend to a paroxysm of unholy mirth. ' It has given you a great deal of trouble ' he said looking across at Miss Leeson. 1 I never find my work a trouble,' she answered and I'm glad you're pleased.' ' The other photograph will not make as good a picture as this.' ' Perhaps you don't know its possibilities. At any xate, I shall do my best.' ' Oh ! I am sure of that, and only hope you won't be tired. Doing one's best generally means hard work.' With a little smile Miss Leeson glanced at the rugged features of the speaker. . ' It may seem hard at times,' 'she assented, ' but I believe you would be one of the last to shirk it— on "that account.' ' I hope so. A man who can't do his duty in the world deserves to be kicked out of it.' ' And you would administer the same rough iustice to women ? ' ' That's a subject I haven't studied,' he answered .quietly. ' Out there,' waving his hand as if Australia were at the end of the garden, ' out there I met very few women. Why, I haven't talked to a woman as Ive talked to you for over sixteen years. That -afternoon I came- here with your niece my temerity alarmed me to such an extent that when you spoke I felt inclined to say, " Yes, ma'am." Did I say it ? ' 'Not that I remember,' she laughed, little suspecting that this stern-looking man sometimes descended to frivolity just because he was anxious to banish the* too persistent gravity from her tired eyes. 'As you are so afraid of women,' she continued, ' I take it for granted that it's a man's photograph you wish me to copy ? ' ' \es. It's one I found amongst my friend's belongings. Personally, I don't think it worth keeping He thought differently.' & ' ' And for that reason you value it. Even in small things you are a loyal friend, Mr. Jephson Oh by the way,' she wont on. 'now that the miniature's'fini- • shed, I should like to enter it in my list of work It sounds disrespectful to write " portrait of a man," but you've never mentioned your friend by name.' 'No,' and John Everill walked to -the window ostensibly for the purpose of freeing a fly that was entangled in the mesh of a curtain. ' No, we seldom ad•dressed each other by name. It was always " chum " •or " old man," unless we felt particularly lively and then it was "young 'un." ' 'I see,' she said softly, fearing that her chance words had awakened some painful memory. ' Then I think I shall write " Portrait of my Chum." ' For the rest of that, day John was preoccupied a ■severe critic might have said moody. The plan he had

considered a masterpiece of diplomacy suddenly appeared so clumsy that he fancied it might even savor of impertiraence. Little as he .knew of women, he had lately contrived to learn something of their ways, when, the painting having been put aside for a few minutes, he had seemingly taken refuge in his newspaper. He (had also found out that the elder Di was saving up to buy the younger one a new summer frock, while the latter one had a lifCle box half full of threepenny pieces intended for the purchase of a more comfortable ' artist's chair,' all this lately-gained knowledge having taught him to be very tender in his dealings with the two Di's. But the fact was, so both aunt and niece were firmfy persuaded, that John's means were almost as straitened as their own. They made no secret of their little economies, whilst they carefully avoided any references to his address. It was, they thought, so probable that he would not like others to know where he was obliged to live, and the result of his care of his ' circumstances ' betrayed itself the day after the chum's portrait was finished, when John took his usual seat by the table on which Miss Leeson s painting materials were spread out. 'It's not often that I have two miniatures to paint for the same person within so short a time ' she began, with a little hesitation. ' No ?' interrogatively. ' And I really think I ought to make some small difference in the terms.' ' Oh, of course ; I didn't believe it was enough. Shall we say five guineas for this one V asked John, forgetting himself. ' And " ' I was going to suggest something quite the reverse,' interrupted Miss Leeson, the flush on her face making her look five years younger. ' Tradespeople often allow a reduction for a quantity. Artists ought to do the same. I shall charge you a guinea for this miniature. ' We'll talk about that later on,' and from a shabby blue envelope John drew a photograph and laid it on the table. Then followed a pause, during which Miss Leeson, the woman, rather than Miss Leeson, the artist, looked at the photograph with hungry eyes. ' Your friend had this— a long time ? ' she said at last. ' A very long time,' answered John, truthfully enough. 'It was given to him by a young fellow whom he nursed through a bad illness.' ' And what became of him ? ' 'Do you mean the young fellow ? Oh, when my chium last saw him he was as well as— as I am. 1 ' And,' doubtfully, ' and successful ? ' ' Yes, after a while. Of course luck doesn't come to everybody just at first, and when it does come it takes some time to make a fortune ' 'Oh I understand all that.' Here Miss Leeson put down the photograph and took up her palette. ' I have a fancy, she said slowly, ' that it helps me to know something of the character of the people whose portraits I paint. What did your chum think of this friend of his ? ' ' Oh, he always spoke well of him.' ' And he found him grateful ? ' ' Yes I'll answer for that. He '—nodding at the photograph- was certainly grateful. A man must act ff v, + v V\ anked a friend for savin § hi s life, even though the life mayn't be all roses and honey ' ' You seem to know a good deal about the young man. ° ' I do. There was a time,' said John grimly, 'when I found him and his affairs a bit trying ' 'Well do you know,' with an attempt to speak hghtly, 'though I'm getting so old, I haven't lost my liking for stories— real live stories. Suppose you amuse me whilst I mix my paints by telling me wnat you can remember of my new subject ' ' Oh, his story wasn't original, and he— didn't find it — amusing. ' No.' 'He was just twenty-five when that likeness was taken and although he had only £130 a year, and although no one tout a lunatic could hope to keep a wife on that, he fell madly in love.' ' Are you sure it was— madly ? ' 'He thought so, and I take it he ought to have known. ' Ye-es. Go on, Mr.— Jephson.' ' Well, he found the lady's father more practical* than himself, so he gave up his situation, sold all his superfluous possessions, and went out to Australia where

like .many another young idiot, he expected to makeshall we say' — a modest competency in about eighteen months. 1 -> r ' And the girl ? ' '-Oh ! She came to her senses. At the end of a year she wrote to him — a note of six lines— she was going to marry a rich man, and she returned his ring and portrait.' ' But, I suppose, you never saw that letter ? ' ' Well,' admitted John, ' I mustn't confess that I did. see it. Of course, I've never mentioned it to anyone else,' he added hastily. ',Did it seem the sort of a letter likely to be written by a girl with whom a man would fall madly in love ? ' 'He didn't blame her much. The getting on he had talked about was a slow business, and it was not to be supposed that she would wait for an indefinite time.' ' It's rather a curious coincidence that I should know something of a similar story,' said Miss Leeson slowly, as she bent over her painting. ' However, in the case of which I am thinking it was the girl who had to suffer the most, and who was, I think, the more to be pitied. When one is Avorking it's easier to forget than when i one is only waiting.' 1 Yes. I never could do much in the waiting line,' said John. ' Well, like the heroine of your story, the girl of whom you speak promised to marry a man to whom her father objected. Like your hero, her lover went abroad, hoping to find some Tom Tiddler's ground where gold and silver could be had for the trouble ot picking them up. After he left, the girl didn't have a very cheerful time in her home, and at the end of a few months she broke down.' 1 Badly ? ' 1 Oh, badly enough ; and it took her some time to get strong again. You see, after her illness she never once heard from the man who was to have done such great things for her sake.' ' Then he was either dead or a most contemptible cad.' 4 Four years later the girl's father died,' continued Miss Leeson, ignoring the interruption. 'It was he who during her illness— imitating her writing—had sent that letter of dismissal to her lover. When she knew that, the girl was glad. She had never thought harshly of the man she loved. r 'No two people have stories so much alike as all that ,' he declared, as he rose, and leaning on the table pushed aside the paints. ' You have been speaking of yourself ? ' ' And if I have ? ' ' Why, it means that there was no rich man— that you did not forget— that— ' 'Oh ! pardon me ; there was the rich man, but he failed toi — to interest me, «o after a time he and I went our separate .ways.' ' And I wonder whether— you still remember ? ' Miss Leeson dropped her paint brush, put her fingers on John's right hand, and turned it over, palm uppermost. ' Another coincidence,' she said quietly. 'My hero had a scar like a Maltese cross on his right palm, and —there, the game is at an end. The first time we met I guessed who you were. The second time I knew. If you ever again wish to play at Make Believe, you must put on gloves, alter your voice, and wear spectacles. Now '—touching the photograph as she spoke — ' is it worth while copying this ? ' ' No, for I don't want it. And you,' but here he paused, then, greatly daring, he went on, ' and you, Diana, had better have the original.' 1 Are you sure you are quite justified in giving away so much 1 ' she asked with a smile. ' Well, tell me what your rich man could afford, and I'll double the gift,' he answered, for once enjoying the power of wealth. 'Oh ! ' and they turned to see Di standing in the doorway. 'Oh ! don't hesitate, Aunt Diana. It's the chance of a lifetime. Choose a carriage and pair for yourself, and then take Mr. Jephson out to buy a new coat.' Advice that was figuratively if not literally obeyed — • Manchester Guardiali.'