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Frank Melton's Luck, Or, Off to New Zealand

Chapter XV. Jealousy Deep and Bitter

Chapter XV. Jealousy Deep and Bitter.

My uncle had arranged that Mrs. Fortescue, Fanny, Mr Bowden, and he should ride to the Sylvesters, while Charlie, Alice, and I were to drive in the waggon. Charlie was to take the ribbons. I rebelled at first against this arrangement, as I would naturally have preferred riding with Fanny; in fact, I tried to get out of going altogether, pleading my wounds from the morning's encounter, but this excuse would not pass muster, so I submitted to my fate. It was well that I did, for my bruises were now beginning to show me the superiority of a soft cushion over a hard saddle. We had a pleasant drive, notwithstanding my anticipations to the contrary. Alice amused me by her descriptions of previous dances and picnics, and her simple wonder at the grandeur and ceremonial stiffness of a ball which she attended in Auckland during her visit there.

‘I much prefer,’ said she, ‘our free and easy little gatherings, where we all know one another, and are not strictly bound by rules of etiquette. I dare say you will find us rough and countrified, Frank, and altogether different to what you expected, but you must make allowances, and think of the way we have been brought up, having no mother since we can remember, and our neighbours, though very hearty, kind people, are not what you would call refined, by any means.’

‘My dear girl, from what I have already seen, I must say I infinitely prefer good-hearted, simple people like our friends to the stiff and stuck-up sort of superior beings—as they consider themselves–that one meets in the old country, who won't speak to this one because his grandfather was So-and-so, and won't visit another because his page 62 grandmother wasn't So-and-so, and who will quarrel with their greatest friend because she walked out of the room before them, when, being half a shade lower in the social scale, she should not have done so, although possibly many shades higher in intellectual or moral cultnre.’

Fortunately for Alice, my moralizing was arrested by our arrival at the Sylvesters' gate, where we caught up the rest of our party. We assisted to unharness the horses, and having turned them into a luxuriant grass paddock, entered the house. Mr and Mrs Sylvester, a robust, genial-looking couple, came to the door to meet us. Their daughters had already taken charge of of our lady friends. We followed Mr Sylvester into his den, as he called it, at his request, where he immediately regaled us with a glass each of old Irish whiskey, as he termed it, with a peculiar twinkle of his left eye while he elosed his right. On his inquiry how I liked it, I replied ‘that I was not much of a judge, but should have considered, if he had not called it otherwise, that it was rather too new.’

His right eye now twinkled while his left took a spell. ‘Right you are, my boy,’ he remarked. ‘I never can give it time to get old. It is manufactured not one hundred miles from here, and never paid duty. I would not say so much to everyone, but you are the wrong breed to blab. They are very decent fellows that own the still, and I for one do not believe in Government getting hold of everything, and making us pay the piper, so I get my liquor from them. My son,’ he continued, after a slight pause, ‘is out after a wild bush bull that has been seen with our cattle. Grosvenor, his Auckland friend, is with him, I expect them home directly. I hope they'll have got a shot at the beggar. Charlie, my boy, as you won't have any whiskey, and Frank has done his, take him into the drawing-room and introduce him to the girls, for I know they will be more to his taste than the conversation of old buffers like us.’

I followed Charlie in, and was introduced to a score or so of young people of both sexes, who had already arrived. About as many again dropped in later on. Grosvenor and young Sylvester returned from their hunt, which had been an unsuccessful one, for they had not seen the bull. Grosvenor was evidently much taken aback at meeting me suddenly face to face. Although he knew my name was Melton, I had never informed him that I was going to an uncle at Wanganui, and he had not supposed for one moment that I was related to the young ladies he met in Auckland, nor, indeed, was he aware of the relationship now. He therefore had never dreamt of seeing me in this part of the country. However, on reflecting for a moment, he appeared to think that his position was not so had as he had at first feared; that his word was as good as mine, and as likely to be credited. Therefore he came forward and shook hands heartily with me, and declared he was delighted to meet an old shipmate, and a lot more to the same effect. I certainly did not reciprocate his sentiments, but judged it best to treat him as an ordinary acquaintance, and not make a scene, so I answered him as shortly as I could in consistency with politeness. On Fanny entering the room with Mrs Fortescue and Alice, he left me and went up to them with a most impressive and, as it appeared to me, impertinent familiarity. I had fancied that I had expended my powers of aversion to him on board ship, but I now found the feeling intensified a hundred-fold if possible.

We were soon summoned to tea. Where the guests had to come page 63 from such a distance this meal was a necessary and most welcome prelude to a dance. It was soon disposed of, and in due time we moved off into the room prepared for dancing. It was in reality a woolshed, but answered our purpose admirably, being tastefully decorated with dark glossy green boughs of bush trees, and the graceful leaves of the nikau and fern trees. When the first notes of the piano struck up the gentlemen who had bespoken partners stepped forward to claim them. Mr Bowden had not yet made his appearance. He had, I presume, paid another visit to ‘the den’ with our host. It will be remembered that he had engaged Fanny for the first dance. It was very remiss of him to keep a lady waiting. What could have kept him? Losing one dance was a matter perhaps of trivial import to him, but it was disastrous in its consequences. It was one of those little incidents which often affect our lives in a wonderful way; yet perhaps I should blame my own confounded stupidity, rather than Bowden's delay, for what followed, for had I at once asked Fanny for the dance, instead of foolishly imagining she would sit it out and wait for her partner, I should have then had an ample opportunity to warn her against Grosvenor, and strongly hint at my own feelings for her. I had fully intended to do this on our ride to the dance that afternoon, but could not, owing to my having to drive with Alrce. Grosvenor, who was sitting by her side, noticing that her partner had not turned up, immediately asked her to dance it with him, and she gladly assented. It was now that I saw what an idiot I had been, as I watched how her face lit up with pleasure, and how animated her voice was as she answered his low-toned remarks. Yes, I saw at a glance, or imagined I did, that she thought a good deal more of him than of me. I had previously flattered myself that I was not quite indifferent to her, but I now bitterly reflected that my surmise was groundless, and the fond hope was dashed to the ground. I sat jealously watching them, for I could not in my present frame of mind join the dancers myself, nor could I for the life of me take my eyes off them. Every turn they took round the room seemed to bind more firmly the load of misery round my heart. Poople stared at me, I heard afterwards, but I noticed them not. Mrs Fortescue chaffed me as she passed on her partner's arm, but I heeded her not. Alice at last brought me to my senses.

‘Frank, what's the matter with you? You look so ill.’

‘Oh, nothing,’ I replied, but I felt it was something, and something pretty considerable.

‘Ah, I can see what it is! You're jealous of Fanny flirting with Grosvenor. You should show more pluck. Everybody is watching you.’

Pluck! no, I had not pluck enough to see the girl, for whom I felt the deepest and truest love that a man can feel, gaze up into the eyes of the individual I most detested on earth, and who I knew was totally unworthy of her, with a glance more tender than any she had ever given me. My jealousy of Grosvenor, when Julia Robinson was the object of our attentions was hard enough to bear, but in that case my feeling for her was what is generally designated as calf love. In the present case I had learnt what love really is, and I had now to learn that the intensity of the torture of jealousy, is in exact proportion to the strength of the love which is the cause of it. I was just wondering in a dazed sort of way how I could manage to go through my dance with Fanny, and keep up a conversation as if page 64 nothing had happened, when the music ceased and the stream of dancers passed me on their way to the cool verandah to enjoy a promenade. I did not look up, but I overheard the following conversation:—

‘Come for a short stroll in the garden with me, Miss Melton; it is lovely outside. Never mind the next dance.’

‘But, Mr Grosvenor, I am engaged to Frank for it.’

‘Frank! who on earth has the happiness to be called by his Christian name by you?’

‘Frank is my cousin, Mr Melton. You must know him. He was a fellow passenger of yours. Why didn't you tell me in Auckland that there was a Mr Melton on board? We never knew he had arrived till we returned home and found him there, and he positively travelled down from Auckland in the same steamer with us.’

‘Oh! ah! yes! I did know him. We were great friends, but I never dreamt he was your cousin, or I should have told you about him. You know we had other subjects of conversation much more interesting to me. It's lucky it is this cousin you are engaged to for the next dance. Of course, he won't mind your doing him out of it. If it had been anyone else it would be different.’

‘I daresay he won't mind. I can easily get into his good graces again if he does, but, remember, we must not go out of sight of the others.’

‘No, of course not.’

They then sauntered off out of hearing and sight too. They had not noticed me sitting behind them as they halted in the doorway and conversed in this strain. When they returned to the room, which was not till the music was striking up for the third or fourth dance, I approached Fanny and calmly reproached her for her conduct in not fulfilling her engagement, and asked for the next she had to spare.

‘Oh, I knew you wouldn't mind, Frank. My head ached, so I had to go out. Let's see, my programme is almost filled up, but I think I can spare you one at the end.’

‘I shall be quite too tired by that time, Fanny,’ I replied, stiffly. I was stung and mortified beyond endurance, for I had, unknown to her, noticed Grosvenor's initials many times repeated down her programme.

‘You silly boy, what's the matter with you?’ she queried, noticing my tone and manner.

I did not trouble to answer, but walked out of the room, and pouring out half a tumblerful of neat whiskey, tossed it off at a draught. This had the effect of making me reckless. I returned to the dancing-room, and finding Mrs Fortescue sitting, took her programme and put my name down for several dances. Being a stranger, the gentlemen had rather neglected her. I chatted and laughed with her in a manner which anyone might see was forced and unnatural, but it appeared there was one who did not so see it. This was uncle, who now made his first appearance with Mr Sylvester. His jovial look as he entered the room was converted suddenly into one of displeasure as he noticed how I was employed. He immediately came across to us, and asked to have the pleasure of the next dance with my companion. He had, it appears, forgotten to engage himself beforehand, and the lady was naturally slightly put out at his neglecting her till the first three or four dances were over. However,

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be this as it may, my name was down for not only the next, but for all those which were not filled in by other gentlemen. Uncle was greatly incensed when he found this to be the case, though, as in duty bound, he tried to avoid showing it.

‘You should have been here earlier, Mr Melton, then you would have had a chance with the rest. I meant to have kept one or two for you, but I see this naughty boy has filled up all the blanks.’

‘But I could not get away earlier from the den. Important business with Sylvester. Business before pleasure, you know. Easy enough for boys to be in time. Got nothing else to do. But Frank must give up the dance to me.’

Whether it was the glass of Old Irish, a liquor to which I was not accustomed, especially in its pristine strength, or a determination to make another suffer as I had done, and was still doing, I knew not, but a fit of ungovernable obstinacy possessed me. ‘That I most certainly shall not, uncle! I am engaged to the lady, and no man shall take my place! Not even to you, sir, would I yield her up!’ I exclaimed with heat.

‘Oh, you won't, eh, my boy? Never mind, we'll talk of this another time,' and looking very hard and curiously at me he walked away.

‘You have offended your uncle, Mr Frank. I am so sorry. You should have given way to him.’

‘Give way to him!' I replied, rudely. ‘Not likely. I am not going to allow everybody to sit on me, Mrs Fortescue. But they are commencing; let us join them.’

I performed my part in this dance so badly, that my partner after a turn or two asked to be led to her seat, as she felt unwell. I obeyed her, fully expecting to see her get up again and resume the dance with uncle. This, however, did not happen, owing, I believe, to the fact that he did not come and ask her.

I will not further describe the dance in detail. Those who resided near at hand left at its conclusion, but the larger proportion had to be provided with sleeping accommodation. The upstairs portion of the house was carpeted with beds for the ladies, while the gentlemen covered the ballroom floor with their recumbent forms, stretched on mattresses provided for them.