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The Toll of The Bush

Chapter XXIX The Bride

page 328

Chapter XXIX The Bride

Never had the Wairangi beach presented such an animated scene as at eleven o'clock on the morning of the 18th March 19—. It seemed that every village and settlement in the county must have provided its quota of guests to the marriage of Major Milward's youngest daughter. Vehicles of all descriptions, from the trim buggy to the labouring ox-waggon, were drawn up close to the fences; and in the paddocks the horses that had drawn them, from the seven-and-sixpenny Maori 'weed' to the hundred-guinea thoroughbred, formed a collection well-nigh as varied as the conveyances. Gay groups in sombre attire, relieved only by the white veils of the women and the palm or grass hats of the men, dotted the sands or lolled on the grass banks beneath the trees. Settlers of note for forty miles around had made it a point to be present, and to bring their wives and a portion at least of their families. Here stood a group of gum-dealers discussing the never-to-be-anticipated fluctuations in the English and American gum-markets—fluctuations which, if they kept their eyes on the mere figures and page 329neglected the broader principle of average, must have turned their hair snow-white with anxiety. Here were the school teachers of the county, reckoning up their chances for that paradise of the country schoolmaster—a town vacancy. There on the pa top, huddled against the sky, stood an assemblage of settlers, men whose road to fortune lay along the track of the axe and the slash-hook. They were watching, mostly in silence and with clouded brows, the scene of the great fire, now merely a carpet of gray smoke spread over bush and river alike. Now and then one stretched a hand to some landmark, the road probably, for on the inviolacy of that narrow white ribbon depended the security of the great forest. A deceitful quietude held the scene, only here and there the gray expanse boiled with a ruddy tinge, and away in the east a huge dark cloud slowly banked itself beneath the sun. No sign of moving life was visible, yet the watchers knew that below that impenetrable canopy a hundred suffocating men fought tooth and nail against the encroaching monster, or stood by in haggard despair while their crops and household gods went up in screeching flame. Into the eyes of many of them as they gazed came a light of battle, and some slipped quietly down the hillside to their horses, while others turned to watch impatiently for indications of the delaying bride. Sitting among the boats, a little group of native school-teachers—men with miscellaneous pasts, but of approved probity—discussed helplessly the encroachments of an experimental Government, who had made of them postmasters and dispensers of medicine and meteorologists and nurserymen, and studiously neglected inquiries as to page 330the pecuniary emoluments attached to the collateral professions. They spoke of sheets of questions arriving with worrying irregularity from the Agricultural Department, from the Native Department, from the Education Department, from the Postmaster-General, desiring to know When and Where and Why; to all of which, being conscientious men and in fear of the powers that be, they replied with courteous involution to the effect that they didn't know, sometimes adding riders as to the state of the schoolhouse chimney, or the desperate condition of the glebe fence. And now as they sat together they commented on these questions, and asked one another 'Why?' in confidence, and it seemed that none of them knew.

Large as was the assemblage of Europeans, the natives outnumbered them. Everywhere were the serge suits and toi-toi1 hats of the men, and the gay shawls and skirts of the women—on the beach, in and around the store, on the slopes of the pa, among the stone ovens, and in a dense expectant throng at the door of the big shed. The men were roughly divisible into two types, corresponding mainly with their ages above and below thirty or forty years. The latter had received the benefits of education at the native schools. They spoke in English, idiomatic, but often amusingly misapplied, and all but invariably mispronounced. Their faces showed a curious blending of simplicity and shrewdness, a duality of nature which also revealed itself in their actions. They were 'Hail fellow well met' with every one, no sense of modesty or politeness preventing them breaking into the midst of the

1 A coarse grass.

page 331most intimate groups. The other and older type presented both in manners and appearance a striking contrast to their younger tribesmen. Their faces were frequently minutely tattooed; there was a stateliness in their movements, even where age had robbed the figure of its erectness. Many wore the distinguishing marks of chieftainship—the whitetipped huia feathers in their hair, the hereditary jade jewels at their throats. They spoke in their own liquid language, with a grave and cultured enunciation, the sentences possessing a cameo-like clearness and polish. Their manner toward Europeans was marked by a charming courtesy and dignity, that aboriginal mingling of self and sympathy on which all manners, whether of courts or backwoods, are founded.

A strong wind rocked the plantation and whirled streamers of hospitable smoke from the kopa-maoris1 at the foot of the pa. The river, roused from its blue serenity, poured emerald waves ridged with silver on the shining sands. The atmosphere had that indescribable air of freshness which provides the first hint of the changing season. The leaves danced musically on the trees, veils and ribbons fluttered in the faces of their fair wearers, gay pennons on the roofs of the buildings snapped and stood out taut.

On a log, removed from the immediate vicinity of the madding crowd, sat Mr. Mallow, his eyes bent on the river. The water was teeming with kahuwai, for every now and then shoals of small fry leapt glittering in the air, betraying the presence of their enemies. In an hour or so the tide would

1 Native stone ovens.

page 332be suitable for fishing. Occasionally Mr. Mallow fumbled with his coat, and his face grew troubled; at the same time he glanced around him with the look of one whose surroundings oppressed him. In his pocket was a letter, concerning which the greatest secrecy had been enjoined him. It had to be delivered into Miss Milward's hands at the earliest possible moment, and already he had been on the spot some two hours with his mission unfulfilled. Whether his messages had reached the young lady he did not know, for the house was full of strange women, stylish Auckland girls, before whom his fifty odd years of manhood shrank into blushing imbecility. Mrs. Angus should have known him, but there was no recognition in her eyes, and she treated him no better than the rest, scouting the idea that Eve was available for even one second on this distracting morning. As far as the betrayal of her confidence went, Winnie had chosen with discernment, but at this stage it seemed more than probable that there would after all be little to conceal. Nevertheless, there was in the shy and taciturn man a fund of slow determination which usually in the end bore fruit of one kind or another.

But now the anticipated moment was at hand. The venerable silver-headed figure of the old Church of England missionary was seen moving towards the improvised church, the figures on the pa were descending rapidly to the beach, the crowd at the plantation wicket had fallen aside, and beneath the heavy shade of the Moreton Bay figs there was a gleam of something white descending towards the gate.

Mr. Mallow rose, rubbing his fingers in his page 333grizzled black hair. The procession came out on to the sunlit sands, and the crowd falling in behind, every one moved away towards the building. In a few minutes—save for those who, unable to obtain admittance, stood wedged in the doorway, and a few Maori women at work among the stone ovens—the beach was deserted. Mr. Mallow stood awhile pondering on his unaccomplished task, then he moved slowly to the gate, and stood patiently awaiting the return of the bride.

Had Winnie's instructions been less exact, her father would probably have passed the letter on and thus achieved her purpose; had they been more so, she would not have confined herself to insisting on early delivery, but would have added that delivery must precede the marriage. With no knowledge of the circumstances, and without curiosity concerning them, Mr. Mallow merely sought to fulfil the trouble-some commission into the performance of which a pliable nature had seduced him.

And so in the end, when it was too late, the bride's fingers closed on the key which could not now for her open the doors of Happiness.

'Miss Milward. Private. Urgent.'

Eve laid the letter on the toilet-stand and turned to her two nieces. 'Run away and get changed for the boat, girls,' she said, 'and then we will go down to the beach.'

'But we want to help you,' the young ladies exclaimed in disappointed chorus.

'Well, when you are ready yourselves'; and the bride urged them smilingly to the door.

The eyes of the elder girl dwelt for a moment page 334on the letter lying face downwards on the table. She would have liked to know whether the address bore her cousin's new name, and in that case to have exchanged little rapturous remarks on the fact; but she touched her sister on the arm and withdrew.

Eve closed the door, the smile dying from her face. She had little curiosity as to the letter, but she had an imperative desire to be alone—wished indeed dumbly that she might be alone for ever.

'"Urgent."' Well, then, what was it that was urgent now, when everything had ceased to matter?

She tore open the envelope, disclosing a half sheet of note-paper and a soiled and much-folded letter.

'Read this if you value your life's happiness,' wrote the Dark Lady.

Eve drew a chair towards her with her foot, and sat down regardless of the adjustment of her expensive wedding dress. Her mysterious correspondent had at least the faculty of arousing interest. She unfolded the torn sheets carefully.

Dear Mr. Fletcher——'

For a moment the girl closed her eyes sharply and thrust the thing from her as she would have thrust a snake. Then in every fibre of her mind arose an overwhelming desire to know, to look through other eyes on the man she had wedded, to learn, if possible, the secret of the power which had drawn her in her own despite and unresisting into his arms. And in the throes of this fatal curiosity, page 335the instincts of honour and delicacy, the habits of birth and breeding crumbled like a house of sand.

—— Street, Kensington, 3rd September ——

'Dear Mr. Fletcher

—It is with great pain of mind, but in the confidence that you will not refuse to a distracted and guilty woman assistance in the undoing of a great wrong, that I sit down to pen these lines.

'It is not the consequences of sin as they affect myself that I would ask you to attempt to alleviate. They are beyond your help. But in a moment of impulse, thinking to spare another, I have cast on the head of an innocent man the charge of complicity in my sin. I had no idea at the time the fatal words escaped me of the passion of vindictiveness of which my husband was capable, and now it has become impossible for me to communicate with him. He leaves, or has already left for New Zealand, on what mission I tremble to think. I ask you, then, to meet him, to disabuse his mind at once of the idea that Geoffrey Hernshaw has ever acted towards him other than as an honourable friend. The statement I made to the contrary was false—a lie, framed in a moment of fear to shield another man. This I declare solemnly and before God. Show him this letter, and tell him that if he again puts to me the same question I will no longer mislead him. Tell him I will sacrifice anything rather than an innocent man should suffer on my accusation.

'My heart misgives me as I reflect on the difficulties which may attend your compliance with my request, but I know that you will do all things page 336possible to prevent my sin having further consequences, and in this belief, I remain, your unhappy friend,

Laura Wickener.'

Eve looked up from the letter with the surprised thought that it had left her unmoved. The consequences were perhaps too tremendous to be grasped in the few moments which sufficed for the perusal of the letter. But as she turned her eyes and caught sight of her face reflected in the glass, the veil and orange blossoms still in her hair, she knew it was the countenance of one who had received a mortal wound. For a moment she looked straight into the strange eyes, then with a start sprang to her feet and locked the door. A step was advancing along the passage. Some one paused, tried the handle and rapped imperatively.

'Are you there, Eve?'

'Yes, Catharine.'

'Do you know the door is locked? Shall I send the girls to you?'

'Presently, dear. I want to be alone for a little while.'

There was a brief pause, and Mrs. Angus's voice came again with a brisk cheerfulness. 'Very well; we'll give you half an hour to make your peace with the old order of things. But mind, not a minute longer; every one will be expecting you.'

Mrs. Angus withdrew, a little disappointed. Eve had been somewhat difficult at times, but she had hoped that the actual ceremony would bring all that to an end. Had there been something in the Hernshaw business after all? Well, it was in any page 337case wise to humour her, and the lady broke off her soliloquy to give her daughters orders to that effect. Eve was a wee bit tired; she had been on her feet since four o'clock and was not to be disturbed for the present.

So she was granted half an hour's respite.

With numb fingers she undid the fastenings of her wreath and veil, disclosing the sunny masses of her hair, coiled in the latest Parisian fashion but newly arrived in the Colony. Methodically she released and threw off her bodice, bringing into view the rounded whiteness of her arms and throat. A rich colour was slowly mantling in her cheeks, betraying the feverish excitement beneath her leisurely movements. Still of the bride's vesture the skirt remained, the train heaped in a gleaming fold on the floor. Her fingers began to wrestle with the clasps, at first mechanically, then with conscious but unavailing effort; apparently the web of the waist-band held her as the marriage bond held her, past undoing. Suddenly the expression of her eyes underwent a change. Into them came the fear and the wrath of the free thing caged. The muscles of her arms rippled from shoulder to wrist, and a moment later the rent garment lay trodden underfoot. So the young lioness when she feels the bars of her prison rends the gifts of her keeper. And, as though by the violent physical action, the gates of memory and perception were shaken free, and the whole cruel plot, from the hour when her husband had lied away the good name and the honour of the man she loved, to the hour when he knelt at her side to receive the blessing of the Church on his devilish work—ay, in every base page 338and suffering detail stood revealed, never again to be blotted out or obscured.

Did God permit this? Then farewell to the dream that God existed. And if there were no God, what was left to make this contract binding?

There were left the instincts of a gentle and honourable nature. There were left the habits of a gentle and honourable upbringing.

The bride stood with heaving bosom gazing as at a picture on the shipwreck of her life. The moments of respite were slipping by. Presently the keeper would come demanding his prisoner. She started and shrank aside, the scarlet blood dyeing her cheek and throat. No power on earth should demand that of her! Sooner death than the dishonour of his touch.

Yet she was his wife!

Suddenly she slipped to her knees by the bedside, her arms stretched across the coverlet, her fingers locked together, her head bent.

'Mercy! mercy!' she whispered in her agony.

Did she appeal to the God she had just denied?

Ideas and resolves come into the mind who knows how? One moment the brain is vacant, barren of expedient, in the next the way of escape runs clearly indicated.

It was a desperate enterprise. The crowds on the beach, the scattered parties about the grounds, rendered it unlikely of achievement. Yet the beginning at least was simple. Her windows opened on to a side verandah but rarely used. A wing of the house extended to the right, making a species of alcove in the garden, at the corner of which was a small gate leading into the orchard.

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From that point one could move beneath the shadow of the eleagnus hedge to the slip-rails of the stockyard. Once there, a happy chance might accomplish the rest. Oh, to be away beyond the reach of curious eyes and interrogating voices, alone with the sweet silences of Nature! She recalled the blissful quietude of the Girds' hut in the dimness of the forest. There she could rest, there she could lie concealed, thence she could dictate the terms of her surrender.

Jack Wilson raised his head from tightening his saddle girth to find a closely veiled lady standing beside him. He had long anticipated the moment when some love - sick heiress, despairing of any voluntary effort on his part, should resolutely break the ice and entreat him to fly with her, but as the lady raised her veil as far as her eyes and dropped it again rapidly, he had to admit that not even in his most ambitious moments had he soared to the height of personifying the heiress in the person of his master's daughter.

'Jack, I want you to do something for me—something that will cause me to bless you for ever.'

'Yes, Miss Eve—Mrs. Fletcher.'

'Jack, I want your horse and my saddle. I will wait here while you get it; only if you love me be quick, quick!'

'Yes, Miss—Fletcher.'

The harness-room was close at hand, and in a few seconds Jack was back with the saddle on his arm. He had been thinking meanwhile and his face was troubled. 'Could I go for you?' he asked.

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'No one can go for me. I must go myself and alone, and no one must know that I have gone.'

The lad adjusted the saddle with averted face. Something in the girl's voice set his eyeballs smarting.

'There. Now lead him round to the other side of the orchard—to the gate on the hill track and wait for me.'

The girl slipped silently away as she had come, and Jack Wilson, vaulting into the saddle, trotted the horse over the slippery grass till he came to the gate. There, a moment later, Eve joined him.

'What shall I say, Miss—Eve?' he asked; this time, for some reason, deliberately choking down the 'Fletcher.'

'Ah! what will you say?—we must think of that.' She sat her horse for a moment quite still, her face turned from him. 'Jack,' she said softly at last, 'very likely you will get into trouble for this, but whatever happens, remember that I shall never forget or cease to bless you for the help you have given me to-day. It may seem nothing to you, but it is like the gift of heaven to me. And so if trouble comes because of what you have done for me, remember how I blessed you and try to forgive me.'

At that sweet speech the youth's manhood wellnigh failed him. 'Is this all I can do for you?' he stammered; then feeling lending him eloquence, he added entreatingly: 'If you are in trouble don't run away from it, Miss Eve; there are fifty men on this station who would lay down their lives rather than a hair of your head should come to harm.'

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But Eve only shook that same head sadly and again turned to him. 'When they find. I am gone,' she said, 'they will perhaps ask you what you know, then tell them the truth. If it is my father who asks, say that I will send him word in a few hours; if—Mr. Fletcher, say that he will find his answer in my room. That is all that needs to be said.'

'And where shall I say you have gone?' the young man asked moodily.

Eve wheeled her horse towards the higher ground. Though it was yet but little past mid-day a singular sickly pallor had crept into the sunlight. Away to the east the dark smoke bank, now of portentous proportions, appeared to be at the same time rising and rolling forward, blotting out the landscape, answering to the push of the east wind as in the morning it had obeyed the bidding of the west. The girl sat a moment gazing into the advancing shadows, then with a wave of her hand cantered rapidly away on the cattle track between the hills.