Hedged with Divinities

I

I.

" Isn't this glorious, Jack?" said the pretty lips.

And it was glorious: that there was no denying. What more would you have than a bright blue sky above, a fresh breeze aft, your fingers on the steering-paddle feeling in thrills the life in your little craft as she darts through the brine, and — the daintiest of sweethearts holding the sheet bent round the cleet?

A tiny craft indeed, flat-bottomed as are most of the boats on the tidal rivers of North New Zealand; a boat sharp at each end, and with both bow and stern "tip-tilted" from the water. Now she was well over on her side under the pressure of the big sprit-sail; with little wavelets foaming and rippling from the bow, and the water trying to lap in over the lee gunwale. A full sail, wind, tide, and freshet racing you along — together with Youth and Love! Ah — unhappy, indeed are they who have no memories of some such scene wherewith to brighten the after-hours of the darkness and rain.

As over mile after mile of water they floated on, slowly the speed began to slacken as the wind fell light.

The lady bent over the side of the boat, and allowed her fingers to trail through the water.

"I wonder, Nellie," said Jack, "why girls always do that?"

"Girls?" answered Nellie, "Everybody does it."

"Oh no, not everybody," said her lover. "Women always do it, and men don't. I never was in a boat with a girl but she dragged her hand along and made the water ripple through her fingers. I suppose," added he, laughing, "that if some musty old Don was here he would tell us that it was an instinct in your sex inherited from prehistoric days, when the habit was of use for the preservation of the species. But anyway, don't do it now, Nelly. Look," said he, raising his paddle from the water, and pointing to a triangular fin moving slowly along out in the calm bright water of one of the river-bays. "There might be one of those gentry travelling with us under the boat, and I want those little white fingers to pet me with; don't offer them as bait. The sun is getting hot, Nelly, and the tide not half made yet, so that we can't get to work for some time. Let us go up one of those creeks, and lie in the shade for an hour."

Nelly acquiesced, and the boat's course was altered till they glided into the mouth of one of the winding channels near the shore. Jack struck the sail, and pushed the boat along until they came to the refreshing shade of a large mangrove tree throwing its gnarled boughs above the water which lapped around its trunk. Here Jack drove the curved bow of his craft up among the countless spikes of the young mangrove shoots which peeped above the surface around their elder sister, and then, arranging the sail as a nestling place for his fiancee, he lay down in peaceful enjoyment of the pleasant place and season.

A bonny pair were they upon whose forms the summer leaves threw their dappled shadows. Nelly was a maiden of about eighteen years of age, with a figure in which the willowy slenderness of the girl was blending with the soft entrancing curves of developed womanhood. Masses of waved brown hair were coiled upon her well-poised head and broke into soft fluffy rings over the collar of her dress. Her face was delicately fair with the wholesome fairness of maidens of the Anglo-Celtic race; the clear eyes, calmer than blue and warmer than grey, were candid and honest, while the tender mouth was curved with smiles of pleasure and innocent happiness. Dressed in a light frock suitable for summer hours, she was fit to pose as an ideal specimen of that youthful womanhood whose presence brightens thousands of homes in the colonies of Britain.

Nor was her lover outwardly unworthy of his mate. Tall and athletic, he had the grace which comes of great strength so trained and disciplined that the muscles obey the will without effort or exertion. The fault, if any, was that the figure was too lithe and sinewy to please those accustomed to see beauty in softer and more flowing outlines. The deeply-bronzed face was fairly handsome, but the features were not so attractive as the bright fearless expression which at once caught the attention. Dauntless energy and vitality were the predominant characters of that expression, and, though softened by the circumstances of the situation, it was evident that the young man had unmistakably "a will of his own."

"Jack," said Nelly, "you would not have let me sit on the other side of the boat that day at the picnic."

Ah ! that day of the picnic. That was the day, only a week ago, that had sealed Jack's fate. He had borne much that day, the usual country-picnic baby, the wet feet getting ashore, the mustard-pot in the peach-pie, the spider in the salad; but when he saw the awkward son of a neighboring squatter trying to rompingly kiss the girl whom he (Jack) adored in silence, then Jack broke over the bounds, and, after a few words, grew sulky and only to be appeased by soft feminine devices. Then was he led away by Nelly along winding forest paths, under the tree-ferns, and past waterfalls, then was he coaxed with many subtle wiles into being "a good boy" again, but the good boy melted too far, and, in a tumult of agitation and affection, poured forth the story of his love and hopes—and not into unwilling ears nor to unresponsive lips. Once more the old story; the original-plagiarism; the springing of the eternal rose-buds on the world's battered old bush.

They had been acquainted but a short time before the eventful picnic had brought their love affair to a culmination in the first week in summer. Nelly Farrell was the daughter of a well-to-do farmer dead some years before, who had left behind him some landed property and a respectable income to his wife and only child. Nelly had grown up as her mother's companion, and since her school-days had enjoyed few of the pleasures of society and little intercourse with young people. Among her neighbors some of the sons of the runholders and farmers were fine young fellows, well grown and able to keep the saddle from dawn till sunset; others belonged to the "electro-plated aristocracy" who speak of the working men as if they were dogs, and carefully avoid the mention of having had a grandfather. Good or bad, however, Nelly saw little of them, and, save at an occasional picnic in the summer, she had few opportunities of comparing their attractions or judging their acquirements. Jack had seemed to drop down upon her from the skies. He had come to that part of the country apparently only for the purpose of spending his time or of obtaining a knowledge of the language and customs of the Maoris, amongst whom most of his days were spent. But at the first glimpse of Nelly his enquiries into the ways and manners of her dusky compatriots ceased, and he spent his hours making occasions for visiting at her mother's house, or meeting her, quite by chance, in her daily walk. Fervid and passionate in his wooing, how could the simple country lassie endure these meetings without learning to await anxiously their next occasion? Meetings with one whose coming wrought shy silence, but whose earnest words were thought of afterwards with flushes of soft sweet tears. Now, all this was over, the confession at the picnic had dissolved the barrier of timid reserve, and these two were learning to know each other, turning gently together, leaf by leaf, the book of personal knowledge which is so fair when on the pages of either side there is no deep and lasting stain.

"No, Nelly, I would not have stopped on this side at the picnic, but then, on the other hand, you would not have asked me why I didn't come. That's the beauty of it; this side or that side I know that you love me and belong to me, and I am not afraid to let go of you for a moment for fear you might slip away to someone else."

Jack bent down over the little hand that she stretched out towards him and softly kissed the fingers one by one. Nelly lifted his cap and patted with her disengaged hand the close-curled head bending towards her, and as she did so, her eyes rested upon a curious scar which Jack bore upon his forehead. This consisted of two deep lines crossing at right angles, and showed up grimly on the fair white skin.

"Is that your christening mark, Jack? she said laughingly. "I'm afraid you must have been christened in boiling water, or else the priest's finger was red hot."

Jack looked abashed and smiled uneasily, saying, "Oh it does not matter, it is nothing." The girl replied "You know, Jack, I asked you once before about that scar, and you promised to tell me some day. Tell me now."

"Oh it's such a long story," said Jack, "You wouldn't understand unless I began at the beginning and explained why I went to the place where I got it, and such a yarn would be as long as an old-fashioned sermon."

"What matter?" answered his sweetheart, "Here we have an hour or two to stay waiting for the tide, and you might just as well spend it in this way as in talking nonsense—not but what I love the nonsense too; but I mean to hear the story from you some day, so why not now? And you know," she added pleadingly, "you have told me so little about yourself and your wanderings in the world; I want to hear all your adventures and tales of foreign countries. Think how quiet a life I have lived here; these fields and the river are the only places I have seen, and the few settlers the only people I have known. Do tell me Jack. Now's the day, and now's the hour."

"Yes," said Jack, "See approach proud Nelly's power, chains and slavery! I will tell you, my pet, if it will please you, but promise me that when I bore you too much you will stop me; remember you bring it upon yourself."

"Very well," said Nelly, "go along."