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

Chapter XVIII

page 222

Chapter XVIII.

On the day when the events recorded in the last chapter occurred, Malcolm Butler had left Auckland, and proceeded to Drury, where he arrived a short time before the messenger despatched by Mr. Mandeville galloped in with a letter from that gentleman to the officer commanding the station, begging him to send a force immediately to his assistance.

Malcolm Butler solicited and obtained the command of this force, which arrived, as we have seen, just in time to save the inmates of Forest Lodge from destruction.

Malcolm Butler was too clever a man not page 223to make the very most of the chance which fortune had thrown in his way; he took care to be the first to rush into the house, and to receive the thanks of Mr. and Mrs. Mandeville as their deliverer from apparently certain death. He also laboured to prove that had it not been for his urging on the men to their utmost speed the troops would have arrived on the scene of action too late to succour those they came to save.

With Mr. and Mrs. Mandeville he was most successful, their gratitude knew no bounds, and even Edith felt it necessary to thank him for what he had done, though her womanly instinct told her at once the price he would ask as a reward for his services. That instinct told her, alas! too true. Malcolm Butler now became unremitting in his attentions, and her father and mother incessant in their arguments in page 224his favour. On one occasion her father sent for her, and after pointing out all the numerous advantages the match would give to her, asked her how she could possibly be so foolish as to persist in what he called her insane attachment to a dead man. It was in vain for Edith to urge any argument, to even plead for mercy, he flew into a great rage, told her she was a most undutiful child, a most ungrateful woman; and even in his passion went so far as to say, that if she did not consent to marry Malcolm Butler he would curse her as a disobedient daughter, and then he left the room.

Mrs. Mandeville coming in some time after found Edith still weeping bitterly; she tried to console and soothe her, but at the same time used every argument in her power to induce her to think well of the match with Malcolm Butler. He was page 225young, she said; though not handsome, he was not bad-looking; he had been very successful in life—at a very early age he had attained the rank of Major; above all, he was rich—he could keep her from all the sordid ills which cause most of the minor miseries of life—he could give her every comfort and luxury. Why should she not marry him? Why should she let a foolish remembrance of one whom she herself had so long considered dead, stand in the way of her happiness?

"Oh, stop, mother—stop!" cried Edith. "Why will you, even you, turn against me? Why will you, to whom I looked for comfort and support, rank yourself with those who are trying to drag me down to a fate I shudder to think of? My dislike to Malcolm Butler is no common feeling: I cannot explain it—you would think me mad if I did; it has been growing on me for page 226some time—it is a sort of dim uncertain horror, as if of some dark being of another world. And now—now—lately—I actually fear him—I actually fear him! Putting all other feelings aside, how could I marry a man I am so much afraid of?"

"Oh, my child," said Mrs. Mandeville, whose tears were flowing fast, "I must now tell you a secret—a secret I was desired to keep from you—a secret which I know your father would be very angry if he heard I had told. It is this:—Some few months ago your father had been very unsuccessful in several speculations he had made, a sum of ready money was urgently required to relieve him from his difficulties, and he did not know where to turn for help. At this time Malcolm Butler had a large amount in one of the Auckland banks, the greater part of which he had obtained from his uncle for the purpose of page 227purchasing land in New Zealand, which he had represented would be immensely increased in value in a. few years, as the settlement of the country went on. In some way or other—we never learnt how—Malcolm Butler heard of your father's embarrassments, and came to him and offered to lend the money. Your father was delighted to avail himself of the assistance so opportunely offered—the more so as he thought he would be able to repay the money in a short time; things, however, have not turned out as well as he expected—one misfortune has followed another—and now the time has actually elapsed that was agreed upon for repayment, and your father is totally unable to refund the sum of money he borrowed."

Edith sat speechless; there were no tears in her eyes now: the horror was too great—the gulf before her was too dark! page 228She was deadly pale; she looked what those around her were trying to make her, though they knew it not—a sacrifice!

Alas, since this world began its course how many a woman has been made a sacrifice to man's selfishness! How many have yet to undergo the same fate! What was she to do? It was true this man had saved her life; it was true he had saved the lives of her father and mother (for they all believed that had he not urged on the men, on the night when they were attacked by the Maories, the succour might have come too late); but this was not all: it now appeared that her father was in this man's power—her father, whom she had been taught from childhood up to love and reverence. What could she do? What could any woman do to escape from such toils as these? Was there any hope? She, poor girl! thought that she saw a faint one.

page 229

Even to her it appeared very faint, but she thought she would try it; she thought she would see Malcolm Butler, she would throw herself on his generosity—that she would tell him all. She would reveal her whole soul to him, she would kneel at his feet, she would implore him to let her die, as she had hitherto lived, faithful to the memory of the only man she had ever loved.

"Mother," she said, "I will see Malcolm Butler to-morrow; but it must be alone, recollect—perfectly alone. Till then let me be left in peace."

"Yes, my love," said her mother; "your father is going into Auckland to-morrow, and I know Malcolm Butler is coming over from Drury; so it shall be as you wish."

And then she left the room.