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Henry Ancrum: A Tale of the Last War in New Zealand, Volume 2

Chapter XIII

page 161

Chapter XIII.

Hop, skip, and a jump, a very long jump, a jump to merry, happy Old England. We cannot take such long jumps in real life; but it is the privilege of the novelist to be able to do so.

Gertrude Chesney—has the reader forgot Gertrude Chesney? If so, he must refer to the beginning of the first volume.

Gertrude Chesney had at first suffered severely for her fault. Sir John Ancrum, as has been mentioned, after the discovery of her situation, had sent her back to her page 162relations, but her relations received her very coldly. In fact they would not have received her at all, if Sir John had not out of pity for the girl, and as he thought to prevent her falling lower, made her a small allowance, which induced a widow aunt to take her into her house, where she became the mother of a boy, who at first seemed likely to leave this world as he had entered it, without exciting any particular interest in any one except his mother, but who eventually appeared determined to remain and fight that battle with the said world, which we have all more or less to fight. Then came a cold dreary period—a period of estranged friends and freezing greetings from those who had been once so happy to meet her; but Gertrude Chesney did not care so much for these things as some women might; her whole soul was bound up in one idea, the idea that she might one page 163day be married to Malcolm Butler. She wrote to him, she described her situation, she described her misery, she asked him to fulfil his promise — she asked him to marry her. No answer came. She wrote again. In her second letter she mentioned her remorse at having deceived Sir John Ancrum, in saying that Henry Ancrum was the father of her child, and asked Malcolm Butler at least to acknowledge his son. To this letter an answer came by return of post. Malcolm Butler begged her to have patience. He said that to marry her now would, as she well knew, be ruin to all his hopes, but that if she would only wait, he would, at his uncle's death, acknowledge his child, and marry her.

Gertrude Chesney was in love; but then she was a clever ambitious woman. She thought over all these things for a long time, then jealousy came to her aid.

page 164

"Oh!" she thought, "if Malcolm Butler should see any other woman he liked better than me, and should desert me and my boy, and marry her!" Then she made up her mind. Her aunt, though poor, was celebrated as a shrewd woman. She would consult her aunt. She did so; and the aunt, after a little reflection, pointed out to her, that although Malcolm Butler was bound in honour to support her and her child, and to marry her eventually, yet the only means of forcing him to do so, was by threatening to divulge the whole truth to Sir John Ancrum if he did not do so.

Gertrude was at first unwilling to follow this course; but after some time had elapsed, she was induced by her aunt's arguments to carry it out, and all the arrangements were left to the latter. That old lady at once wrote to Malcolm Butler, who had not up to this period left for New page 165Zealand, telling him that she would proceed to Sir John Ancrum, and reveal all the facts of the case, unless he agreed to support and eventually marry her niece; and the result was a meeting between herself and that gentleman, in winch he very reluctantly engaged to give Gertrude an allowance, paid quarterly, and also signed a written agreement to marry her at his uncle's death.

As we have said, he did this reluctantly, but he had hardly any choice in the matter, as nothing but the allowance would satisfy the aunt, and nothing but the promise of marriage would satisfy the niece. And with regard to the latter, he was in hopes, when the time came, that he could compound for the marriage by paying a sum of money. The allowance was paid regularly, as Malcolm Butler had seen enough of the aunt to make him believe page 166that if it were not his secret might be at once divulged; and on it, in addition to their other means, the two women lived very comfortably, the elder giving out to her gossips in the village that she had been left a legacy by a distant relative.

One sultry summer evening the two women were sitting in the verandah of the cottage into which they had moved, after they had obtained the increase of income we have mentioned.

It was a very pretty cottage. The trellis-work of the verandah was covered with creepers, interspersed with roses here and there. It looked out on a nice, trim little garden, which it was Gertrude's delight to keep in first-rate order. Beyond came the village lane, and immediately opposite was the fine old church, surrounded by trees.

The church itself was a very picturesque page 167object (being large to suit the size of the village, which contained nearly a thousand inhabitants), several hundred years old, having a splendid tower, and being covered with ivy. Beyond the church, and sweeping round to the right of the cottage, the ground descended rapidly, the village being situated on a high hill, and down in the valley below flowed a bright clear stream, murmuring over its pebbly bed. On the other side of the valley rose some wooded hills, and far away on the right could be seen the park and turrets of Ancrum Hall.

Gertrude Chesney loved to sit, as she was doing now, at the cottage door, enjoying the balmy hot summer air, lazily listening to the hum of insects and the song of birds, looking over the lovely scene before her, on the cornfields yellow with ripening grain rustling in the gentle breeze, on the page 168glimpses of the stream seen here and there amongst the trees, on the distant park with its groups of deer, on the far-off walls of Ancrum Hall, and building such sweet castles in the air! How easy it is to persuade ourselves of what we wish. She never doubted that Malcolm Butler would marry her, she never allowed herself to doubt it. Had he not promised her? Had she not his written promise?

No, she did not doubt him; had she done so, darker feelings might have risen in her breast, for she was an ambitious woman, she was a woman who could dare much, a woman whose wrath might be dangerous. No, she did not doubt Malcolm Butler, her own Malcolm Butler, as she sat there day after day and built her castles.

She was to be mistress of all that fair scene beyond the stream; she was to be the page 169lady of those lordly halls that rose so proudly in the far distance. Oh, how sweet it would be! how people would bow down to her then! how those who had so disdained her, would sue for her favour. And then she thought of some (women of course) who had been cruel. Oh, she cried to herself as she clenched her little fingers, she would crush them.

But there was one thing troubled her; her boy, her curly headed boy, who was playing near her in the garden, he could not inherit all this grandeur. No, she thought, as a dreamy smile passed over her features, there must be another son, a son born in wedlock, to succeed to the family honours. But he—what was to become of him? Oh, she thought, I shall be rich; I shall have interest then, he can be well educated, he can go to India in the Civil Service, and make a fortune, and found a page 170family for himself. Yes, it would be better so!

Take care, take care, dreaming fair one! Your foot is very near the basket of crockery; take care, one little push, and down it tumbles crashing to the ground.

Neither of the women had spoken for some time; at last, Gertrude's aunt said—

"Well, I declare if there ain't the housekeeper from Ancrum Hall, a coming up the lane; whatever can she be a coining this way for?"

"Well, I suppose to see her son, who is steward to Mr. Oldham, up the road; you know she often does," said Gertrude.

"Ah, so she does; but no, she is a coming in at the gate."

And they both stood up to receive the page 171old lady. She came in slowly, as she was rather a corpulent person than otherwise, and she had been a good deal blown by her walk up the hill; so they made her sit in the arm-chair to rest herself, and then they had a little gossip about the affairs of all their neighbours. After which, the old lady came to the real piece of news she was dying to relate.

"Well," she said, "Sir John, he did astonish me to-day, he did sure-ly, for Sir John, you see, he used not to be given to talking much to any of the servants, not even to the upper ones; but since he has got older, he has got more conversable like. Well, he has got a letter from foreign parts, and Sir John, you see——"

"Who was the letter from?" said Gertrude's aunt.

"Lawks, how you frightened me; page 172why, from his nephew, Mr. Malcolm Butler."

"Malcolm Butler!" almost screamed Gertrude Chesney, "what of him?"

"Why, you see, Sir John says, says he, Mrs. Bedwarmer, says he, my nephew has fallen in love with a lovely rich young lady in New Zealand, and he has asked my consent to marry her, and I have given it."

"What's that?" What was it?—it was an overturned chair, and the sound of a heavy fall. Gertrude Chesney had fainted, and lay extended on the floor.

"Good gracious," said the housekeeper, "the news could not have touched her, she had nothing to do with Mr. Malcolm Butler; it was the other poor lad that—that they say is dead. God be merciful to his soul!"

"Oh, no," said Gertrude's aunt, "that page 173had nothing to do with it; it is only the heat, she is often so. I will take care of her. Don't stay, please, Mrs. Bedwarmer, she will be all right in a few minutes; the servant and I will put her on the bed." And so with difficulty Mrs. Bedwamer was induced to depart.

For two or three days after the event we have recorded, Gertrude Chesney was so prostrated, so overwhelmed by the blow she had received, that she was almost incapable of reflection; but gradually as her strength and spirit returned, one fixed idea was settled in her mind. She would seek out Malcolm Butler wherever he was; if he were not already married she would force him to marry herself, or to stand the consequences of the exposure of the true story of her case to his uncle; and she had little fear of his being married before she could reach him, as her aunt had ascertained through page 174Mrs. Bedwarmer that Sir John Ancrum did not expect the marriage to take place for some months to come. Her aunt agreed to her decision. They had sufficient money laid by to pay all expenses, and so Gertrude Chesney started for New Zealand.