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Chapter I.

On the beach, near the junction of the Main South Road and Sod Town, in the township of Timaru, N.Z., there stands a two-story wooden building of some fourteen rooms. It is surrounded by a beautiful garden, in which there is evidence of refined taste displayed. The house wears a mournful aspect, as well it might, for its late owner, Charles Lunny Perryman, had breathed his last on the previous evening. The groom and gardener are standing together talking at the stable door; they show more signs of sorrow than are usually depicted on the faces of any of our employés when we are in trouble.

"So he leaves," says John the groom, "all his affairs, I hear, in perfect order."

"So they say," returned Jackson. "He did everything properly ever since I have known him, and his last act has been in keeping with his previous ones, for I never knew or worked for one anyway like him."

"Nor I," returned John; "but I suppose Mr Frank will now carry on his father's practice, for you know he was called to the bar last January, but as yet he has not done any Court business, though he intended relieving his father for his proposed trip to Sydney."

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"Yes, so I believe. The son, too, is a thorough specimen of an English gentleman, and will, I am sure, soon be liked as well in the profession as was his father."

"Yes, he must, for who could ever know father or son without liking them. I know I could not from the very first, for they were always so very good and kind, and never said a word to make you feel hurt—not even when one was wrong."

"I wonder now if Mr Frank will keep things on as usual, for I suppose he will at once take affairs in hand, as I believe the principal part is left to him by the will."

"Of that we shall know soon enough; but there is one thing very certain, we shall never have a better master than our late one. All I say is, I am very sorry he is gone, for I have learnt to know now when I've got hold of a good thing, and consequently do not wish to run the risk of any change."

We will now enter the house and see who are the sorrowers, for there are three—Mrs Perryman, Frank, and Maud. Mrs Perryman is a fine specimen of an English lady. She is above the medium height, and her regular, clear cut features show that in her youth she must have been a handsome woman; but a close observer would at once pronounce her too trusting, and also to lack firmness. Maud is a very handsome girl, for she has inherited her mother's good looks, while she was, unlike her, possessed of much firmness and determination of purpose, and could look a difficulty straight in the face, and do all in her power to overcome it. It is necessary that Frank should be described more carefully, as my story has most to do with him. He is scarcely up to the medium height, being about five feet seven, and of stout build. In complexion fair, large full eyes, broad and intellectual forehead, the nose nearly straight and inclined to be Roman, the mouth rather small—in fact, too small for a man, for it showed want of decision. As a man of business, he was much liked for his straightforward manly page 7way, and nobody could accuse him of having broken faith with anyone.

"Maud, my dear," said Mrs Perryman, "I am sure I do not know what we shall do without your poor dear father. I feel I shall not long survive his loss."

"You must keep up, mother dear; you know we must all go sooner or later, and we have this solace, that our dear father was a good man when alive, and has, thank God, left his family well provided for."

"Oh, Maud, how can you, under the circumstances, think at all about money matters? I do not know I am sure; I would sooner he were here, if we had not a shilling."

"Mother," said Frank, "we must all bow to the decree of Him above, who deemed it best to take our father from us; for it is, to my way of thinking, a sin to dispute which is right or otherwise. He was, as Maud has just said, a good father and husband, and also a good man; for I verily believe that he tried to keep the one commandment of all others—'Do unto others as you would they should do unto you'; and he who holds to that must be good. It is true he very seldom went to church, for you know he did not like the mere display of religion; and further, he considered there was too much hypocrisy with the majority of church-goers. I only trust I may be as good a man. And after all, are we not taught to believe that he is better off? so we should not, under the circumstances, wish him back. Of course we all wish he was not gone, as is but natural; but I see no more reason to repine over the leaving than the coming into the world."

"Ah, Frank," said Mrs Perryman, "you are so much wiser than I, and your father has been with you so much of late that he has imbued you with his good and sensible notions; and, now you speak as you do, I feel much comforted, for of course Maud and I will have you to cheer us up when we are down-hearted, and you will not think of marrying, Frank, will you?"

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"Marrying, mother; I have no such thought—in fact, at present I know no lady who would exactly suit me, so you may rest contented there is no probability of my doing otherwise than as you wish."

"Oh, I am so thankful, Frank, and will now leave you for the present, for I must have just a few minutes to myself;" and with this Mrs Perryman left the room.

"Frank," said Maud, "of course, you will continue your father's practice."

"Oh, yes, to be sure I shall; I wish I had had a little more experience, but of course we must abide by the decision of Him above, and never complain."

The housemaid now entered and left a tray, on which were two cards with the names of Mr and Miss Hobart.

"Who are these people, Frank?" asked Maud. "I don't remember hearing of them before."

"They are the new solicitor and his sister, who have not long arrived from Victoria," answered Frank. "I have met Hobart, and asked him to call; but I suppose when he called and found that our dear father was dead, he just left cards, intending to call again."

"Have you seen the sister, Frank?"

"No, Maud, I have not; but they say she is very pretty."

"And what is Mr Hobart like, Frank? Tell me all about him."

"Well then, he is about two inches taller than myself, of rather spare build, hair of a sandy hue, complexion rather florid, the eyes of a dark grey colour, but never does he seem to look you straight in the face, for when you look at him, his eyes seem to wander in another direction; his nose is neither Roman, aquiline, or Grecian, but simply straight up and down; his page 9forehead is not what you would call a good one, as it declines too much, and tapers off at each side; the jaw, too, is far too massive, and gives him too much of a bull-dog look. But looks are not to be considered much, as I think him a very nice fellow, and for one reason more than all—he is poor, and he tells you so, for he told me when we had our first chat. He seems, too, to be very candid in his style, and makes you feel as though you had known him ever so long—in fact, you do not seem anyway strange with him after the first five minutes."

"Has he commenced practice yet, Frank?"

"Oh, yes; but I am told he is too poor to furnish his office. Whale, our head clerk, says that his only seat is a red box, which has on some previous occasion contained spirits! And as to what his table is, Whale says he does not know, as it is completely covered with green baize."

"His must certainly look a very stylish law office; one would think he would feel ashamed of such furniture."

"On the contrary, he does not seem so, for Whale says he often refers to it, and says that if he can ever find sufficient business, he will buy or have a table and chair made; 'and,' he continued, 'it will be soon enough to get chairs for clients when I have any, but so far none have turned up.'"

"He must be rather a remarkable man," said Maud. "I almost wish to see him, to hear if he will tell me he is poor. Is he married, Frank?"

"Yes, so I am informed; but so far his wife has not arrived. She no doubt either awaits his success, or possibly funds to bring her over."

"Poor fellow, I am so sorry for him. What a strange thing that he should be so badly off. Does he drink, or gamble, or how can any solicitor be poor? I thought there never were poor solicitors. How do you account for it, Frank?"

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"Well, possibly he has not long passed the bar, and his friends may not be able to help him in any way."

"Ah, true; there may be many reasons one never thinks of until circumstances force them upon us, Frank. When is our poor father's funeral arranged to take place?"

"The day after to-morrow, and the same day his will will be read, and the day after I think I shall try and induce mother and yourself to take a trip to Dunedin, and you can both then if you wish, stay there a week or two, and I will return alone. It will then not be so severe on either mother or you to come home again. What do you think, Maud?"

"What do I think, Frank? I think you are all generosity. You think only of us and never of yourself, for I know you will grieve for the loss of father as much as, or more than any of us; and yet you look after us and neglect yourself, for you will have his memory ever before you when you are always in the house and in the office, where you have been so used to see him."

"True enough, dear Maud, so far; but then, you know, I shall have my business to occupy my thoughts, for of course it must be looked after."

"I know, Frank, that is all very well; but cannot Whale and the other clerks do all that without you, so that you also can stay in Dunedin with us? You require change as much or more than any of us, for you have worked very hard lately—in fact, too hard, for you have been studying very closely; and when our dear father lived you were ever by his side, to the very last moment."

"I did no more than I should have done, and very little at that. But now it is imperative that I should stick close to my work, for my father's last request was that I would do all I possibly could to keep the business together, as he would have liked me to earn a name for myself. And further, you know I must do so for your sake, for I shall have to study very hard page 11before I can be as proficient as our dear father; and while I am young I must not lose time. So, dear Maud, I must as a favour ask you not to press me, for if our mother gets the notion into her head, we shall never satisfy her without; while, if she does not think of it, she will take our suggestion as a matter of course."

"Very well, Frank, if you wish it shall be so; but I feel you are too generous."

"We will not talk about generosity just yet, Maud, for my generosity is as much for self as otherwise, as I am most anxious to do and keep our poor father's last wish."

It is the day of the funeral, and the last rites have been performed for the deceased gentleman. Mrs Perryman has retired to rest, as she declared she was quite worn out and could not endure the hearing of the will read, much as Frank and Maud tried to persuade her that she should be present. They are all assembled in the drawing-room, a very spacious apartment, the walls of which are panelled up to the height of 4ft. 6in., and above there are placed specimens of Egyptian statuary, life-size. This gives the room the appearance of a small public hall rather than the drawing-room of a gentleman; but Perryman senior was always considered very eccentric, and had often declared he would not have his house like any other person's. At the one end of the room sits Mr J. G. Frierland, a brother solicitor and an old friend of the late Mr Perryman; he is there to perform the last office to the dead, viz., the reading of the will. Next to him on the right sits Frank, who seems much cast down; next to him again, Maud, who is in tears, for she always manages to keep up best when alone with her brother and mother. The servants are all assembled, for the old gentleman has forgotten none, and unlike most cases of the sort there is no jealousy, page 12neither Maud nor Frank seeming to trouble how much there is left to anyone else. In the corner of the room, on the right hand of Frank, sits a young lady whom we have not so far observed. She sits in the deep shadow, and is almost out of sight, but we will try and describe her. She is about twenty-one years of age, and her graceful figure more realises the ideal of some famed sculptor than what we generally find in nature. The face, were it not for the wealth of fair hair, the expressive eyes, would not be considered beautiful; still there is something winning about her, and the more one looks the more one must incline to say she has a sweet face. Her face is emblematical of her disposition, for she is indeed a true and whole-hearted girl She appears as we now see her the saddest of all the inmates, but no tear escapes her. She looks in the direction of Frank when she can do so unobserved, and seems to regard him with the fondness of a mother or sister; she appears to try and guard her looks as much as possible, when observed does not seem to notice him at all. She is at present staying as companion to Maud Perryman, for she is an old friend, her sister having been Maud's first governess.

"Now," said Mr Frierland, in a deep, low voice, "if you are ready, I will read the last will and testament of my late dear friend, Charles Lunny Perryman." All being still he commences.

Last Will and Testament of Charles Lunny Perryman, late of Timaru, in the Provincial District of Canterbury, and Colony of New Zealand, and formerly of Hammersmith, London, Barrister and Solicitor.

I, Charles L. Perryman, &c., &c., give and bequeath to my dearly beloved wife, Maud Elizabeth, my dwelling house and land, situate at the junction of Main South Road and North Road, Timaru, aforesaid; also all furniture and effects therein; also my farm land of 380 acres (more or less) situate at Salt Water Creek, Timaru, aforesaid, and further, the sum of £5000 now lying in deposit account at the Bank of New Zealand, Timaru.

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To my son, Frank William, I give and bequeath all that property in Main South Road, and known as Perryman's Buildings, being section — r.s.—; also all my library, furniture, and effects in and upon the said premises, and further, the sum of £3000, now lying to credit in deposit account in the Bank of New Zealand, Timaru; and further, the business and goodwill of same, and my blessing.

To Maud, my only daughter, I give and bequeath the annual sum of £400; or, in the event of her marrying, the principal, should she so desire it, from which the said annuity is derived, and my blessing.

To Louisa Branscombe, my daughter Maud's companion, I give and bequeath the sum of £1000, and my best wishes for her future welfare, knowing as I do that she is deserving of the best that can befal her.

To each of my household servants I give and bequeath the sum of £50, or a freehold section to that value, at each one's option.

I now having completed this my last will and testament, which is all done by my own hand, also appoint James George Frierland as the sole executor of this my last act and deed.

As witness my hand, &c., &c.

Charles L. Perryman.

There is silence in the room when the reading of the will is finished, but now from out of the corner there is a sigh, and then when all turn to look from whence it comes, poor Louie, as she is called in the house, gives another short sigh, and before anyone can go over to her, she falls in a dead faint. This of course prevented any show of emotion from anyone else, as all were now busy in attending to her wants. Maud was the first to pick her up, at least to kneel and clasp her round the neck, saying as she did so, "Oh, my poor Louie, do look up, or I shall fear you are dead, and shall be lost without you." By this time water was brought, and after a quantity had been applied, and her hands gently rubbed by Frank, she gradually opened her eyes, and in a very few minutes was herself again.

"Oh, Maud, Miss Perryman, I beg pardon, I hope you will forgive me for making such a display of my feelings, but I page 14really could not help it when I thought how good and kind your father always was to me when alive, and further, how kind he is to me at parting. Oh, what a pity, dear Maud, that such kind-hearted people ever die when the world is so much in want of them."

"True, dear Louie, but do not remind me too much of that, or you will make me give way too."

"I will try, Maud, to remember in future; but you will pardon me this time, for you know how foolish and fretful I am."

"I know you, Louie, you are all good intentions, and that is all I wish to know; but we must away to our own rooms. I see Mr Frierland and Frank in close converse, so if we stay here we may interrupt them, and as it is probably business they are discussing, we will avoid disturbing them." With this the two young ladies left the room.

"I do not like the look of the man, Frank," are the first words said, after the two ladies have got clear of the room. "You know it is wrong to express our likes and dislikes without having a knowledge, but I can't help it. That free and easy style is to me only put on for the occasion, and when he tells one how poor he is, depend upon it there is some reason for his being so, as well as method in him telling every one. There can, however, be no reasonable excuse, for he has been a barrister now over five years, and with his ability depend upon it there is a screw loose somewhere."

"How beautiful his sister is," Frank replies, in a mechanical manner, "and how unlike him."

"Yes, Miss Hobart is certainly a fine-looking woman, and to me she looks too good to belong to the same family."

"There now you are going too far, Frierland. She is not like him in feature, I admit, but then it does not always follow that page 15brother and sister are to be alike in looks, or even in disposition."

"I never saw two of one family who were not in some way alike but that there existed a mystery, Frank, and I have, as you know, studied phrenology very hard, and I cannot see any similarity whatever between Hobart and his sister. Hobart to me seems—if you have his head out of sight and only judge him by his acts and deeds so far as we know him—to be a genial good-hearted, confiding fellow; but when I look at his head I can see the cool, calculating, hard man of the world, and even worse faults than that. But I will say no more now, Frank, only be on your guard with him, and although you treat him with all friendliness, keep what I have just told you in sight if you have any business transactions with him."

"Thanks, Frierland, I will, but I must say I think you are mistaken this time."

"I only trust I am, Frank, but you will do well to take notice of what I say."

"Of that you may rest assured, for I know you tell me for my personal good, and I will observe things."

"Well, Frank, I must leave you now, for the next coach to Christchurch, as you know, goes early to-morrow morning, and I wish, as I told you, to have a look at my Temuka property to-day, so if you will make my excuses to your mother and the young ladies I will get away at once; and, Frank, by the way, you have a perfect gem of a girl in that Miss Branscombe, or my phrenological study has been time wasted."

"Yes, she is a good girl, I think," answered Frank.

"A good girl; she is one of the best I ever saw, or I am a Dutchman," replied Frierland. "But for the present, good-bye, Frank, and all I have told you to-day try and observe, and time will tell." Time, yes time, the revealer alone of great events, page 16will show how far Mr J. G. Frierland is right, and how far wrong. Hitherto in his calculations on phrenology he has been very near the mark, but in this case we will see, and to do so we must now turn to another chapter.