Chapter XVII.

"And so, Frank, Hobart gives a party on the 23rd."

"Yes," replied Frank; "of course, you will go, Maud."

"Oh, yes, both I and Louie have promised Miss Hobart that we will; but we must look sharp, as the affair comes off in three days' time. Rather a strange notion for Hobart, is it not, Frank?"

"Well, you know, Maud, he is very careful lest he should go beyond his means; that is, I think, the only reason he has never given a party before."

"Beyond his means! What nonsense. Why, he has now been in business with you for over two years."

"Yes, about that, Maud; but I do not blame him for being careful. You know he admits that he has no expectations from his relatives."

"Frank, where are his relatives? I have never heard him make any reference to them, nor Clara either."

"Well, you rather puzzle me there. I believe they are either in Victoria or England, but I really do not know which As he gave me always to understand they were poor, I have page 144been most careful not to broach the question, out of consideration for his feelings on the subject. Since he has been so successful here—for outside of our practice he has speculated and done well—I don't think he likes his poor relations referred to."

"Frank, I don't see any disgrace in poverty; and if Mr Hobart is ashamed of his connections on those grounds, I do not think it any credit to him."

"I am not applauding his conduct, Maud. I quite agree with you that poverty is no disgrace, but it is undoubtedly very inconvenient."

"That may be. For my part I have been lucky enough never to have experienced it; but I feel sure of one thing, that it would never make me keep my friends so much in the background. But, Frank, is not Mr Fixer a relative of his?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"Who is he, Frank? Where does he come from? Don't you remember you once had a clerk of the same name?"

"He is the head of the firm of Fixer and Co., grain merchants, &c.; anything further in this respect I cannot tell you, I believe him to be rich, and a gentleman; but as to where he comes from I cannot tell you. I have no doubt he will at any time you ask him inform you, as he is noted for his straightforward way, and his desire to give people any information they ask or require of him. I do remember, now that you speak of it, that I had a clerk of the same name, but he was a much younger man, and he had no whiskers. I never thought of it before, or I should have told him; it may be a relative. I will when next I see him casually mention the fact."

"You need not fear his being ashamed of anyone belonging to him being poor. He is not of that sort, I am sure. I quite like the old fellow," said Maud.

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"Well, I trust you and Louie will be ready, and not disappoint them as Hobart did us. If you want anything sent to Dunedin you had better tell me now, for a boat leaves here to-day, so you will have a good chance."

"No, thank you; we do not want anything, and we will not disappoint them."

"That's right," said Frank, and with this he left for his office.

"I do wish," said Louie, who had entered just as Frank had left, "that I had not promised to go to Mr Hobart's party, for I don't want to go, Maud. Do you think they would think it strange if I did not?"

"Oh Louie, don't mention such a thing, for goodness sake. Frank only just this minute said he trusted we would not disappoint them as Hobart did us. What in the world do you want to remain away for?"

"I do not know that I have any particular reason, but still I would not go if I thought I could avoid it."

"Oh, you are full of such notions, Louie. Forget them and go; you will be sure to say after that you were glad you went."

"Have you any idea who are to be there?"

"No, I have not; but I'll tell you what, Louie, we can call in to see Clara to-day, and she is almost certain if we mention the subject to show us the invitation list. What say you, Louie, shall we?"

"As you like, Maud; you know I am quite willing at any time to follow your suggestions."

"Louie, I often wish, just for a change, that you would say no when I say yes, so that we could have an argument, if only to vary the monotony of things."

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At this both laughed, and left to prepare for the afternoon call on Clara.

Later in the day, as agreed, the two called at the residence of Hobart, and were received by Clara. She looked much better than when last we saw her, for the circumstances of her case had so far become to her somewhat of the past, and she had hardened herself to the painful reminiscences of her former troubles. She has often written to her father, but as the letters have in all cases been entrusted to Hobart to post, it is needless to say none have reached their destination. After scanning their contents, he has always destroyed them, and so Clara has for the last two years fretted continually over it. But in her case, as in many others, time if nothing else brings relief, and now she has partly come to the conclusion that her father must be dead or he would have written. Several times has she asked Hobart to write the authorities about him, and on each occasion he had promised. Of course he knows too well that Grant, at least, has obtained his liberty, but he is quite ignorant as to his present whereabouts; although in his heart he sincerely hopes that his victim is dead. And Clara, although she knows Hobart to be what he is, never suspects him of opening her letters, for she has so much honesty in her own disposition that she cannot conceive that he can be so bad at heart as he is. She has strictly kept her word since the last altercation they had, on which occasion she said she would, at least in the eyes of the world, be to him as a sister, but nothing further. Often does he try in vain to dissuade her, and her refusals only seem to make him more in love with her, and frequently has he repeated his offer to risk all and marry her; to this she has turned a deaf ear, for in her heart she has decided that should she ever find her father she will devote her time while he lives to him. Gradually have her hopes of finding him diminished, but she still clings to the hope that he lives, and that sooner or later she will be with him to comfort him in his declining years. She often thinks of the story he had told her of his being convicted page 147innocently, and she trust that he will yet be proved to have been guiltless. The fact of his never answering her letters she knows not how to understand, and in reply to her many questions Hobart leads her to believe that the reason why her letters remain unnoticed is that the authorities have not delivered them, as a punishment against him for the suspected charge of having assaulted Mr Torridge. And so she is in two minds; sometimes she believes her father dead, and again she lives in hopes that he will eventually turn up, or that she will at least hear of or from him. She has further decided, when the chance occurs, that she will return to Hobart Town herself, and look for him; but at present she fears Hobart should she hint at this, for she dreads such another scene as the one last recorded. This is the state of mind in which we find her when Maud and Louie are announced.

She receives her visitors in her usual kindly manner, and, after the ordinary exchange of compliment, Maud asks: "Shall we meet any strangers at your party?"

"I think not; but stay, I forgot. The Parks, Mr and Miss Parks, are invited. I suppose you know them."

"I have seen them once or twice, and rather like the look of the old gentleman."

"Yes, so do I. He ought to be a John Bull, from his style of speaking, I think; but I will show you who are invited, and then you will see for yourselves."

The list was now brought, and Maud and Louie saw the names of those coming, and when she came to Fixer's she exclaims, "Mr Fixer, I see."

"Yes," replied Clara, "you like him, of course; I do, very much."

"Well, yes, I rather like his style; he is one of those one can feel at home with."

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"That is what I always say; and he is such an intimate friend of Mr Hobart's. I like him because he seems unlike other men one meets in his position. There is no bombast about him and in speaking of himself he never tries to appear what he is not."

"Mr Fixer should feel proud of such a champion."

"I do not think I deserve that name, for I only speak of him as I think I should. I know that I enjoy his company, what little I have of it; and he has taught me how to look at things in a philosophical light, which is to me something new, and until I met and conversed with him the actual meaning of the word was unknown to me."

"I think," said Maud, "that adversity alone teaches one the beauty of philosophy."

"I quite agree with you; at least one realises its beauties more under such circumstances."

"I should not think you have as yet seen much of the reverse side of nature."

"Quite a matter of opinion, Maud," sighed Clara; "I fancy I have seen quite enough. Remember all is not gold that glitters."

"What an old sage you are growing, Clara; one would think you had heaps of trouble before you. I suppose your illness has made you think more than you would have done otherwise; but I suppose you will forget all about philosophy on the twenty-third."

"I trust I shall be in good spirits."

"Do you know, Clara, you and Louie here would get on splendidly together? You could both be serious all day, and always be inclined to lament that you were alive."

"You have been poking fun at me all this time, and now I page 149see you are trying to bring Louie into it. We must rebel, and not let her have her own way, Louie."

"That's just what I often wish her to do; but I can't get her to do it, no matter how I try to provoke her."

"Now, Miss Perryman," replied Louie, "you are exaggerating. You have, I will admit, said you wished I would oppose you more; but why should I? You do not go far enough wrong for me to object; if you did I assure you I would not be slow to oppose you."

"I shall bring you both out directly," answered Maud, laughingly, "and then I shall have to look out, I can see. If I find I cannot get the best of you both I can run away, and then I shall prove that discretion is the better part of valour. At any rate, I can flatter myself on being successful to-day, for I have a little, although, I admit, a very little, roused you. Miss Hobart looks quite animated."

"I am glad if I do, for I am sure that will be something new to me."

"In that case I should come oftener, as I like to rouse people out of their lethargy."

"I should like you to come," replied Clara. "I often wish to see you."

"Then we will enter into a compact; you come often to see me, and I will return the compliment."

"After the party I will try, but until then I shall be fully occupied."

"Agreed; and now for fear of detaining you we will go, unless Louie here would like to stay and be serious with you. I know you would drop into that strain," said Maud, laughing, and after wishing Clara farewell the two visitors departed.

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They had no sooner gone than Clara dropped again into her pensive mood. "Ah, how I long to be myself, and yet how can I? I feel I am an imposition, for I know I am not what people think me. How gladly would I be honest, if I only dared. I know not what the result would be, but I feel inclined to confess all to Frank Perryman, and then he would scorn me as I deserve. Yet, if my poor father still lives, he would suffer, and he alone; as for me, it does not matter much. Sometimes I am almost inclined to risk all. He is generous, Hobart owes his present position to him. And how was it obtained, but by my falseness, or perhaps I may say my want of determination to follow an honest course. Oh, how I hate myself; and yet I did it not for any end of my own. I would gladly change places with the lowest menial in this town to possess that peace of mind which I never have, and perhaps never will. Oh, God, do, I pray thee, extend some mercy, for though it may be rebellious of me, I feel I do not deserve all this;" and, sinking on a couch, Clara wept bitterly, and some ten minutes later so Hobart found her.

"Why, Clara, what is all this weeping about?"

"Does your own conscience not answer you when you ask the question? How have I suffered, and for what? Is it because I am true to my vow to protect and defend my poor heartbroken father that I am to be a living lie? that I cannot look an honest girl in the face for very shame? And you, who should be the last to speak, ask me why I weep. John Hobart, I wonder you ever look Frank Perryman in the face."

"Oh, this is it, is it? Still the same cry. What would you have me do? I offered to make all the amends to you in my power, and still you upbraid me at every turn, and are continually as I now find you, and refuse my offers."

"I refuse your offers, and why? Have you ever done aught to merit my respect? No; you kept me, still keep me page 151here by threats to injure the only being I love, and then you wonder I do not treat you otherwise. No, John Hobart, I will never do as you ask. Yet will I make a sacrifice, if you will do likewise. You say you love me."

"Aye, God knows I do."

"Well, on one condition will I marry you—more, I will be to you a very slave,—and what I ask shall not be for myself, as you shall judge."

On hearing these words John Hobart's eyes glittered with delight; but again his face changes, for he now dreads what is coming. She heeds not his looks, however, but goes on, the colour mantling to the roots of her hair, making her in his eyes more beautiful than ever she seemed before.

When she has somewhat calmed down, Clara says, slowly and distinctly: "I will marry you, John Hobart, but first you must be present and hear me tell Frank Perryman how we have deceived him, and for what reason. You must ask his forgiveness, and you must return to him all your ill gotten gains made from this deception. When you are once more the poor and needy John Hobart you were, I will marry you. Now, ask yourself if I want anything for myself—nothing but an easy conscience, of which you have long since robbed me."

As she finished speaking, she stood there the picture of resolution, but she scarcely looked at her companion, and when she did, it was with an expression of scorn upon her face.

"Clara, why do you ask me to make this unnecessary sacrifice? Married without money, and situated as we should be were I to make the confession you ask, what would become of us? We must assuredly leave here, and where should we go? If you are willing, we will marry, and fly with all we have to another country; but to stay here is impossible."

"And commit some further crimes! Perhaps rob Mr page 152Perryman further, so as to give him still more reason to curse and loathe my memory. But for me none of this would ever have occurred, and still you speak to me of love, and hesitate to make this sacrifice. Well, I knew before I offered that you would part with everything—ties the most sacred—rather than part with your filthy lucre; and still, I ask, if God is just and merciful, how much mercy has he extended to me in keeping your vile passions uppermost, so that you will not agree to do justice. To be allied to you, John Hobart! oh, how I should hate life itself while I prolonged it with you. Go from my sight! You can never realise how I loathe and despise you, mean and contemptible coward that you are. Go and hide yourself, for your very presence is contamination!"

"Clara, cruel girl!" said he, looking down, for he was afraid to meet her eyes, which he knew were fixed upon him; "I may, I know, appear to you in an unfavourable light, but will you ask yourself, why I have done all this wrong? 'Twas for love of you, and nought else."

"Then, if you have done so much wrong for me, it will be but little indeed to do one right, for by that one act you will obtain what you would make me believe you most covet."

To this he attempted no reply, but stood deep in thought. At first he was inclined to be honest, and say "No"; then again he even thought of making the sacrifice Clara asked, for whenever he thought of Frank he feared lest she should cherish for him some feelings of love, and he felt he would rather do anything than risk parting with her. Then the face of Mary Torridge would appear, and even John Hobart's conscience smote him for the time, heartless as he was; and turning again to Clara, he said—

"You know not all, nor can I tell you all; but if you knew how much I loved you, you would show some mercy."

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"When you show mercy you can reasonably expect a return from me, and you shall receive it; but first extend it yourself, and then trust to others as they have had to trust to you. Until then, I pray I may have strength to do some right;" and so saying, Clara left the room.