Other formats

    Adobe Portable Document Format file (facsimile images)   TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

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

Chapter XX. Explanations

Chapter XX. Explanations.

The stranger now gave his message to my father.

‘Do not allow your daughter to be alarmed, sir. The gentleman you expected here to day would not have disappointed you if by any means he could have avoided it. Death, however has not prevented him, nor illness either as far as he is personally concerned. He was in Wellington on business when he received a letter from home informing him that his father was dangerously ill, and not likely to live long, and that if he wished to see him again alive, he must start without a moment's delay, so as he found there was a vessel leaving on the following day, he at once took his passage, fearing that, if he delayed till there was another chance, he might never again see his father's face. As I was travelling in this direction, he asked me to come up and relieve your natural anxiety on his account, and if that confounded steamer had not broken down I should have been here yesterday. Here is a letter for you, sir, and one for Miss Melton, which will further explain matters.’

‘Come in, sir. Of course, you are not responsible for your friend's actions, but I think it infernally scandalous. My father might have page 83 died fifty times. I'd never have left a lady I was engaged to marry in the lurch.’

‘I think, sir, when you have perused his note you will feel less warmly on the subject.’

This was the case. My uncle was considerably appeased.

I must here give the contents of the two letters:—

My Dear Sir —

I am afraid you will think very badly of me for allowing any earthly consideration to prevent me from being present on the day fixed for my wedding with your daughter. Nothing short of what really has happened would have deterred me. My great love for Miss Melton, was an extra inducement for me to do my duty, which undoubtedly was to hurry home to my father's bedside. This will seem to you a trivial excuse, until I inform you that I received information that my younger brother was using unfair means to supplant me in my father's favour, working on his feeble health to induce him to do me out of my rights. In view of my approaching marriage I felt that I could not avoid looking after my future interests. I could not in honour have come to you, sir, and married your daughter, when I knew alt the time that my brother was robbing me of the property I had represented to you as falling to me at my father's death. Oblige by assisting me in my endeavours to show Fanny that it is far better to wait a few months. I will return at the earliest possible date to fulfil my utmost desires. —Your affectionate son-in-law in prospect,

Augustus Grosvenor.

Fanny's letter was not for the gaze of vulgar eyes. However, we gathered that it contained an innumerable amount of excuses and prayers for her to be true to him. He enlarged very much on the fact that love for his father was his sole motive of his journey; and that he was sure she must feel for him, for she alone could know what it must have cost him, loving her as he did, to put off the consummation of his happiness for some months; but then, he added pathetically, he had known his father much longer than he had known her. He had forgotten to mention in his letter to her father that he would have let them know this earlier, but he had only heard the news from home himself during the last few days, and there was no chance of communicating it before. He concluded by saying that if, as was morally certain to be the case, his father did unfortunately die, on his return she would speedily become Lady Grosvenor.

In uncle's letter his motives were pecuniary, in Fanny's purely love for his parent. This struck me as being strange. In looking over the Wellington paper, which Charlie had brought up, I failed to see the name of Grosvenor in the passenger list of the outgoing vessel. This I casually mentioned to his friend. That gentleman answered that he had taken his passage at the last moment, and his name had no doubt been omitted, or it was highly probable he had given some other name altogether, for he much preferred travelling incognito; it was a whim of his. He hated everyone to know his movements.

This did not mend matters much in my estimation, nor did I truly wish them mended, for I began again to hope that my outburst of feeling on the grassy knoll had been utterly needless; that this hateful union would never take place. Mrs Fortescue, in kindness to Fanny, now wished uncle to consent to put off their wedding also, but he naturally would not agree to this proposal, so, as there was yet just time, the clergyman was called in, and the ceremony performed in the drawing-room. The Sylvesters and some other friends were present, and notwithstanding the exceedingly embarrassing events of the day, we all made the best of it, and each one with varying degrees deavoured to act as if nothing extraordinary had occurred, and that uncle's wedding was the only one they expected to witness, page 84 Fanny herself was a study. She was indefatigable in her efforts to make everything go off successfully, and a stranger would have never dreamt that she had that day gone through such a bitter disappointment. The breakfast was literally a marvel, although it was rather late in the day. Uncle and aunt, as I must now call her, looked supremely happy, and doubtless they felt so. The speeches were brief but to the point, uncle's particularly so when returning thanks for himself and his blooming bride.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen,—My heart's too full of happiness to speak, but I think the more. You have drunk our healths. God bless you for it.’

After the breakfast the happy pair started for Wanganui in the waggon on their way to Auckland with a pair of greys, which Charlie and I had broken in for the occasion. The shower of slippers and rice proved a little too much for their equanimity (we had not thought of accustoming them to this part of the programme), and they started off at a furious pace. However, uncle had the rib bons, and aunt had unbounded confidence in his Jehuship, and plenty of pluck. Her ringing laugh was plainly audibl e, for wheels and hoofs made but little noise over the yielding turf. Uncle took them twice round the paddock in grand style, by which time they had to yield to his iron muscles; he soon had them in perfect command, and they spee dily vanished out of sight down the road. Mrs Sylvester had arranged to remain with us until their return.

We amused ourselves and our friends as best we could until it was time for the inevitable dance. This I had feared would be rather slow under the circumstances, but my fears were groundless, for it was a brilliant success. Fanny was again the life and soul of the party, and her efforts were ably seconded by the rest of us. Some of her young lady friends unwisely attempted something in the way of condolence and sympathy, but they were met with lively jokes and ridicule which thoroughly astonished them.

‘Surely a few more months’ freedom is not a matter requiring condolence,' said she.

Then one of the baffled condolers, a rather faded-looking virgin, whose very conspicuons though unavailing attempts at captivating one of the male sex were the laughing stock of her freinds—indeed, Grosvenor himself had been her aim on the occasion of his first appearance amongst us—this baffled condoler, I say, ventured on a little sarcasm.

‘You should really take care, my dear, that you have at least one string to your bean to keep him from roaming, and to draw him to you when required.’

‘When you cease to make such humiliating failures of your attempts at stringing on beaux, my dear, I will listen to you, but not before.’

This retort caused a perfect peal of laughter from those who heard it, for they all knew how well deserved it was. The recipient of it judged from Fanny's appearance and noted predilection for repartee, that it would be best to retire. This she did with a sickly smile. Her further remarks on the matter were restricted to confidential friends.

I had the pleasure of a good many dances with my cousin, and enjoyed them immensely. She confided in me as she would in a brother, and allowed that she felt dreadfully hurt at what had page 85 occurred, but that our kindness, and mine in particular, had enabled her to keep up an appearance of unconcern. I said that I was afraid my assistance had been but slight. I did not really know to what kindness she referred.

‘My dear Frank,’ she replied, ‘I know now what you really feel for me, and how hard it must have been for you to act the kind brotherly part you have done, never referring unkindly to my disappointment, nor putting yourself forward and saying you would not have served me in this manner. I honour you, and than you heartily, my dear brother.’

‘Yes, darling, I'll allow it has been a fearful struggle to me to witness the way you have had to suffer, but your thanks are sufficient reward. Allow me just once to allude to your future husband. (The words nearly choked me.) Dear Fanny, promise me that you will not marry until we have had time to find out more about him, whether he really is what he says. Let me tell you I have reason for grave doubts whether he really has returned home.’

I saw before I had finished the sentence that I had committed another egregious error. When shall I learn to avoid blundering so hoplessly, and everlastingly saying the wrong thing, when I would give my ears to say the right one. Her eyes lost the fond look and flashed fire at me.

‘Frank, this is too bad of you. I cannot say a kind word to you, but you must immediately add to my trouble by casting unjust suspicions on one I love. You have in a moment undone your previous considerate actions. Never mention his name to me if you would be still my friend. He has gone home, I am certain of it, and I consider it very noble of him to give up his own happiness, and travel so many miles to look on his father's face once more. You would not have done so.’

‘I should certainly have got married first and taken my bride with me,’ I could not help replying.

This seemed to strike her as reasonable, but she was faithful to him.

‘There was no time. The old man might be dead. He acted for the best.’

I saw the mischief I had wrought, as she turned coldly away from me. Why could I not have been silent, and refrained from checking her kind, sisterly feeling by my unlucky request? We were now, I felt, as wide apart as ever.

The evening had come to a close, and our friends departed to their several homes. Charlie and I worked away with a will during my uncle's absence, determined to show him that we could manage very well without him. On his return he commended us for our zeal, and placed me on regular pay. He had previously made me various presents, but my services were supposed to be given in return for instruction in matters pertaining to pastoral pursuits.

Christmas, came round again, and you may be sure we did not overlook the festive day, nor forget the arrangements previously made to hold the annual gathering at my uncle's. Aunt proved, as everyone had anticipated, a most accomplished hostess, backed up as she was by the able assistance of her step-daughters. I had imagined that Fanny would not appreciate yielding up her absolute sway over the household which had lasted for many years, but that there would occasionally be battles royal in the little kingdom. This, however. was not the case. Mrs Fortescue did not adopt the rô;le of the typical stern stepmother, but rather gave one the idea of an elder sister.

page 86

Soon after his return home my uncle, to my great delight, ordered me to be ready for a journey to Auckland by the next steamer. He had when there purchased some valuable young shorthorn stock of aristocratic lineage, which would be now ready for delivery, and as every care must be taken of them, he judged it best to send me up to attend to their lordly wants on the voyage. This was a pleasant proof of his dependence on me. I started, therefore, on my trip in high spirits. The day was a beautiful one, the sea as smooth as glass, and my fellow passengers agreeable enough fellows. What an age it appeared since I had steamed down that coast, yet it was at most not more than fourteen or fifteen months. In that brief space of time my experiences had been manifold. I felt years older as I recalled my sensations at the time, and, looking backward, regretted that I could not blot out much that had occurred in the interval, and in place of my present hopeless attachment to my fair cousin, live over again those few blissful days of its early birth and trustful confidence in the future. My reflections were interrupted by the dinner bell, and truly the effects of the sea air made me heartily welcome the interruption.

The evening of the second day was closing in as we entered the Manukau Heads. The bar had divested itself of its terrors; its aspect was that of a lion asleep; the noise of its roaring was hushed; the restless raging to and fro had subsided into comparatively speaking restful peace. It is true there were low murmurings now and then, and gentle shudderings shook at intervals the mighty frame, as if even in his slumber the noble beast could not quite forget that he had a character to uphold.