THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES MARIAN"; OR, TUE LIGHT OF SOME ONE'S HOME, ^ ®;ale of giustralian |pu8^ f ife» By maud jean FKANC, NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION. LONDON SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & COMPANY Limited BY THE SAME AUTHOR. In one uniform seriet, crown 8vo, cloth, 7/- tach. BEATRICE MELTON'S DISCIPLINE. EMILY'S CHOICE. An Australian Tale. New Edition. HALL'S VINEYARD. JOHN'S WIFE. LITTLE MERCY; FOR BETTER. FOR WORSE. MINNIE'S MISSION. An Australian Temperance Tal«. NO LONGER A CHILD. SILKEN CORDS AND IRON FETTERS. A Tale. VERMONT VALE. GOLDEN GIFTS TWO SIDES TO EVERY QUESTION. MARIAN ; OR, THE LIGHT OF SOME ONE'S HOME. INTO THE LIGHT. THE MASTER OF RALSTON. LONDON : SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON & COMPANY Limi/fd 100, SOUTHWARK STREET, S.E, CONTENTS. OHAmB I. Wherein "Sweet Womak has hsb Owjr Way" 1 II. The Prose of Life . . . < 7 III. FiEST Impbesbions often Happy Ones 13 IV. A Sly Peep is the Moonlight . . 19 V. The New Home . . • . 30 VI. The Mbbmaid Tbansfobmbd . • . 37 VII. Sabbath in thb Btjbh . . . . 'IS VIII. Habvest ..... 58 IX. Lost in the Gxtllt . . 66 X. Fieesidb Chat ... 82 XI. Music in the Bush 90 XII. Chintz and Tacks . • . . 99 XIII. Building and Speculating . . . 105 XIV. A Novel Fobd .... . Ill XV. A Gbntlb Nubsb • • • . 121 XVI. Sowing Seeds . • • > . 183 1382868 n CONTENTS. CHAPIBX PAM XVII. What the Rain Beought . . . 140 XVIII. Who is the Happy Man? . . . 152 XIX. Maeian's -Shadow .... 158 XX. A Peep at " thb Coukse that Neveb Runs Smooth " . . . . 166 XXI. The Teial of Faith , . 174 XXII. Something Unexpected . . . 179 XX III. The Opposition Paett . . ,190 XXIV. Julie Alone with the Stasb . . . 198 XXV. The Rifled Portfolio . . . 204 XXVI. Moeb Wobk fob the Little Light . . 210 XXVII. The Light Diffusing its Beams . . 218 XXVIII. The Place of Peatee, and what the Listenee Heaed of Himself . . 232 XXIX. The Deserted Homestead , . . 241 XXX. The Snowdeop Droops its Head , 250 XXXI. Feuit, aud Something moee Agreeable 258 XXXII. The Avenue of Almond - tke^s, and WHAT WAS SAID THERE . 266 XXXIII. JuLiES Faith 277 XXXIV. How the Willow Grew by the Ceesk . 285 XXXV. How Sounds wcat Deoeite . .296 XXXVI. A Glimpse of thb Crobb . . .302 XXXVn. "NoMOBESBi" , , . 812 OONTEKTS. vU OHJLPTBB FAOa :xxviii. HOMBWAED BOTTNB . , 820 XXXIX. Teansformations . . 329 XL. Alf, and his Budget of News . . 337 XLI. The Old White Gum . . . 346 XLII. Shadows of Cohinq Events . 353 XLIII. Sunshine and White Roses . . . 35y XLIV. The Ketuen . • , . 366 XLV. SaS SliEGFSTB « < . 8518 MAEIAN, OB, THE LIGET OF SOME ONE'S HOME. CHAPTER I. WHUttETN " SWEET WOMAN HAS HER OWN WAY." " She told her purpose, and her will expresa'dj He, listening, yielded— for he thought it best." " ' It does not matter,' Mr. Burton? but I say it doef matter. I am sure it's a burning shame, that a man of your wealth and position in the colony should have so little care for the education of his children ! " " I don't know, I'm sure, what you're driving at, missus," was the measured retort of her husband, as very quietly, very leisurely, very unconcernedly, he reached forward for the tongs, and lifted one of the glowing embers to ignite the tobacco in his black pipe. He generally took refuge from his wife's attacks in its soothing influence. 2 " BWEET WOMAJI HAS TVER OWN WAT. " You do, Burton — you know as well as I do. Haven't I been worrying and worrying these last six months and more, about oup qnd the same thing?" " Truly so ! You may well say that ! " was the dry response ; and the pipe was quietly rc-admitted into the lips that had parted to utter the sarcasm. Mrs. Burton felt too indignant to reply. Her in- dignation only betrayed itself in the energetic man- ner in which she continued her operation : she was churning, and the splash of the coming butter, and dash of the barrel, formed an apt interlude to the dialogue. But it was not in her nature to be silent long when she had an end in view — a point she had determined to gain ; and in a sarcastic tone she re- sumed, " I can't forget old England and its advan- tages, if others can." " Old England ! — advantages ! — who forgets ? Not I," responded her husband, this time rather hastily, for his pipe went out, and he had to raise another ember from the hearth to re-light it. " I know this very well though, old woman," he resumed: "if we had stopped in the ' old country,' your bread would not have been so well buttered, nor your pockets so well lined." *' Well, I know that, * Old woman,' indeed ; you are getting colonial, Burton." " Pooh ! * what's in a name ? * " was the laughing response. The farmer had an old attachment to Shakespeai'e, and quoted him on all important occa- •' SWEET WOMAN HAS UEE OWN WAY." 3 sions. " But 1 say, Bess, my darling, after all, can't you civilly tell a fellow what you want, without wasting such a lot of breath. I am willing and waiting to hear i-easou." < " And to attend to it whe.'i you hear it ? " " That's as may be. But as to education, for that's the point you are argufying, I suppose, what more do you want ? Have I not in the busiest time of the season consented to send two of the boys off to school, and have they not been gone right off these six months past ? " " The boys ! yes, that's all right enough ; and badly till now have they come off, poor fellows ! But the girls ? " " That's youf look-out ; you can do as you like with them. Send them too. Come here, Bessie, you gipsy ! " he exclaimed, as a little thing of eight years old went flying through the room with a garland of wild scarlet pea-flowers wreathed round her slender little figure. " Come here, pet, and tell me, would you like to go to school ? " " To school ? Oh, no, father. I love making hay, and feeding the calf, and milking Jenny, and getting flowers too well." And the blue eyes were hfted roguishly to those so fondly looking into them, and the little figure wriggled up and down to get free from the clasping hands — the rosy mouth just upturned a minute to kiss the lips that smiled upon her, and she was off. " 3o much says our Bessie for the school scheme,'* b3 4 "sweet WOMAlf HAS HEE OWN WAT." said the father, looking after the little flying figure, and laughing. " You spoil that child, Burton. What matters it what she says on the subject ? However, as it hap- pens, I never dreamt of the school for them. All well enough for the boys ; but Julie and Bessie are rough enough already, and it's not likely I should want to send them to a mixed school, and they shall not go if I can help it. No, I had no such idea ; my thoughts were quite different." " I'd like to know them," said her husband, laconic- aUy. " Indeed ; I intend you shalL In short, the poor girls are running wild. I'm getting quite ashamed of them when strangers come. They must have a governess." " We— we— whew ! That's the English of it, is it ? And where is your governess to be put, pray, missus ? We've barely room as it is." " I suppose you're not so busy that you could not add a couple more rooms, nor so short of timber either," she added triumphantly ; " * where there's a will there's a way,' Mr. Burton." " S'pose there is, wife, but any way will work hard agen this, I thought you were so anxious to get up to the new house, that this very day I sent the men off carting stone. If I stop to build you two more roomg to the old place, you'll have to be contented with it another year. We shall have harvest at our backs before we can turn ourselves. My hay is looking fine " SWEET WOMAIT HAS HEE OWN WAT. 5 already. I warn you, not a stone will be touched if I set to building more rooms here, so you can take your choice." His wife was silent for a little, weighing the ad- vantages. She knew her husband's tone of voice too well to feel for a moment she could urge the accom- plishment of both her wishes with any chance of success. The erection of a handsome house, in the most beautiful and richest part of their home sec- tion, had long been the desire of her heart. Indeed, a garden of four years' luxuriant growth had long pointed out where the future '* Hall " was to rise ; and fruit and vegetables were there in abundant variety. Yet time had passed on, and substantial stone barns and outhouses had multiplied, but the family still lived on in their old slab hut, with its grey thatched roof, a room being added here and there as increased accommodation was required, till it had grown of no inconsiderable size — a thorough colonial monstrosity. And yet there was a certain degree of the picturesque lingering around it — slab hut as it was — that a little redeemed it from the title of " monstrosity " in its widest sense. Trees had been left standing at intervals, uneircled by the fatal ring. The blackwood, with its rich foliage and dark slight trunk ; the luxuriant cherry-tree, so beau- tiful in proportion and hue ; the airy, feathery she- oak, so singular and weird, amidst whose branches the breezes of heaven whispered their secrets ; and here and there a lordly gum, evidently permitted to 8 "sweet WOMAl? HAS HEE OWN WAT." remain for its majestic breadth of trunk and deep fulness of leafy branches. There was something, too, in the style of the building that betrayed a little native taste ; something in the deep setting of the windows, which were unusually large — in the wide spread of the verandah encircling the house — in the very door-step inviting your entrance, that redeemed the whole character of the dwelling. Within, too, there had been an attention to plaster and flooring which was very comfortable and respectable. The furniture was good and substantial, though in many cases rough ; and when Mrs. Burton glanced around her broad kitchen — well, though colonially appointed — the gleam of her eye, as well as the exclamation of her tongue, expressed her satisfaction, as she said, — " We can afford to wait for the new house. Burton.'' He drew a long breath, and rose from his seat with a yawn of relief, " Very well, Bess, as you are satisfied, I am. I'm not in such a hurry to quit the old place, I'm sure. There's enough timber feUed I suppose for your purpose. We'll set to, right away." " Yes," said his wife, looking up eagerly from her butter-mould, " now do, for if you and Alf go to Ade- laide next week, I'd like you to bring back a governess with you." " We — we — whew ! " replied her husband, with a cbng, low whistle, " that's not much in my line. How- ever," he added to himself, as he threw an axe upon bis shoulder, " I suppose for the sake of peace it will have to be done." CHAPTER II. THE PROSE OP LIFE. "A perfect woman— nobly plann'd To warn, to comfort, and command ; And yet a soirit still, and bright. With something of an angel light." Vebi bare of furniture, and very desolate in appear- ance, was a certain little room in a mean, detached cottage in the vicinity of Adelaide. Indeed, there was little but a superfluity of boxes and cases, evi- dently bearing the impress of a recent voyage, and these had been heaped up and spread out in every available posture and position to supply the place of chairs and couches, and even tables. Feminine hands had done their best to render the articles in question as much like reality as cushions and cover- lets and drapeiy could make them. A few flowers had been gathered somewhere, and stood smiling from a tiny vase at the very barrenness of the place they smiled upon. But no — they had something else to smile upon ; some things were in keeping with the flowers, at any rate, in that poor dwelling. By the rude mockery of a table, two ladies were seated at needlework. Before one of them stood an ^ THE PEOSE OF LIFE. open work-box, of Indian manufa'^ture — evidently a relic of days of luxury. Both were petite in height and figure — there the resemblance ceased — excepting in that proof of gentle blood which was visible in each alike at a single glance. The one was very fair — pale and fair as a snowdrop — and with soft, silky hair of almost golden hue, rolled over a plait of velvet Hway from her brow and cheeks. The beauty of her complexion was, however, her chief charm ; she was pretty, nothing else — no particular expres- sion — nothing but complexion and a rather good set of features to attract the many glances of admiration that were levelled beneath her broad hat, when she first passed through the streets of our busy metro- polis. A lovdy child of three summers played at her feet. The same dazzling complexion — the same blue eyes — the same silky hair in one as the other. It needed not the often-reiterated exclamation, " Mamma ! Mamma ! " to testify the relationship between them. The other lady, the owner of the elegant work box, seemed to have monopolized all the character in her countenance ; though a very pretty feminine countenance, it was constantly prononce ; — pretty as small and delicate features, fuU curling rosy lips, sweet hazel eyes, and rich brown natural ringlets could make it. The complexion was rather dark, but enlivened by the rich blood which softly tinted her cheek. The eyes in repose were almost volup- tuously languid; excited, they glowed with verj THE PItOSE OP LIFE. d intensity, and the full, broad, noble brow was so tastefally sheltered by the soft, dark curls in their natural wave, that it had not a whit of the masculine in it. A Httle graceful figure she was, reclining on her box-seat against the rough plastered wall, with eyes bent down on her work so that their deep fringe almost kissed her cheek. She was in a thoughtful mood, and the expression of her face was very grave. For a long time the little Emmeline had all the prattle to herself ; but at length the last lady gave an upward glance, and, as though by the touch of a magic wand, the expression of her countenance en- tirely changed — the lips parted, the cheek lighted, the eyes danced with the sweet smile that sprang forth at her words. " Well, Isabel, is William to be successful to-day, or not ? A penny for your thoughts ! " " Oh, I don't know," sighed her companion, wearily ; '* I wish we had never left England." " But as we are here, dear Isabel, would it not be better to hope for the best, and make the best of things, as we have already done with our boxes ? " " As you have done." " Well, dear, as / have done, if you refuse any copartnership in the matter. However, I am quite hopeful to-night. It may be those beautiful hills tinted with rose-colour — dear Isabel, do look at them ! are they not lovely? — it may be those that have touched my day-dreams with the same rosy hue j; 10 THE PEOSE or LITE. I cannot say, but assuredly I believe William will return successful to-night." " And you are a true prophetess, Maid Marian, this time, at any rate ! " exclaimed a cheerful voice in the entry, and with the voice entered the gentleman m question, all life and spirit, whose first mad action was to snatch up the child from the floor, and toss her high to the ceiling in triumph, while the young mother looked up in absolute terror, forgetting in the midst of her expostulations to ask a question, which deficiency Marian immediately supplied. "Be s'erious, William, can't you?" she exclaimed. " Don't you think we are dying to know all about your success? Come, sit down, do — there's a kind cousin ! " " I declare," he exclaimed, at length yielding to her entreaties, and sinking into her seat, " I declare I could hug every one of you for very joy. Here have I been toiling about, day after day, for more than a fortnight, with the precious remembrance of a sinking capital, and not an atom of success in any quarter, and to-day I have lighted on the very thing — a situa- tion that will make us independent again, little pale one ! Think of that ! " Isabel did think, and tears of joy came with the thought, but she wept them out on her husband's bosom. After all the anxiety of their first fortnight in the colony, it was so very sweet to look forward to comfortable certainty again. The husband and wife were too much engrossed for a time to think of any I-HIC mOBB OF lilFS. 11 thing but each other, and Marian quietly resumed her -work, though the flush of excitement and dis- appointment had deepened on her cheek ; for she had a stake in the lottery of life ; — she had also been anxiously looking, all those weary days, for a letter — an answer, only a single one, to her advertisement, and none had arrived, notwithstanding all her weary waiting. "Wait — trust still," she thought to herself; "the answer will come, ' if it tarry, wait for it.' Oh ! it is hard work this waiting, and when the purse is so nearly empty. But the promise is accompanied by the injunction ' Be of good courage.' What faith it requires ! — and yet I will not despond." " Here, Marian ! bless me, what a fool I am ! look up a moment, dear Isabel," exclaimed WiUiam Gren- ville, impetuously rising : " the answer's come at last, so don't look so grave. There's a pair of them to choose from!" and diving into his pocket, he threw two letters into her lap. " At last ! " she exclaimed, the colour mounting to her brow. " And I have doubted ! " was her mental exclamation. She tore open the first, and quietly perused it, the colour mounting every moment higher and higher, even to the roots of her hair. It was from a bachelor, requiring not a governess, but a housekeeper, or rather, a wife. She tossed it aside to her cousin, simply saying,— " You can do anything you like with thia." 12 THE PE08E OF LIFE. " I should like to chastise the fellow for his imper- tinence then ! " was the excited reply, as he read the letter in company with his wife ; and then tearing it passionately in pieces, threw it into the stove. '* I fancy the best answer will be none at all," replied Marian, with slightly curling lip. Turning again to the other letter, " O William," she exclaimed at last, with a brilliant smile, " this will do — the very thing ! two little girls to instruct — with light do- mestic employment — to be treated as one of the family — at a farmstead fifty miles up the country. This will do, and I shall do for it." ** Dear, brave little Marian ! " and William Grenville caught her round her waist, and gave her a hearty kiss. " I don't know what we shall do without you. Fifty miles away ! No, child, I think you had better wait." " Wait for what ? " replied Marian laughing and blushing. Then pushing back his arm, " I must wait to-night, so says the note; to-morrow I shall cer- tainly wait on Mr. Burton. As to the distance, Isabel has you to take care of her, and we can write to each other, and you will know I am safe." " Not so sure of that," teazingly replied William. " I don't seem to like your going. We shall have some of those rough bushmen running off with you, perhaps, and never see you again." " Rest secure on that score," said Marian, making an abrupt rise, and darting from him just as he seemed inclined to repeat his oficnce. CHAPTER 111. FIE8T IMPEESSIONS OFTEK UAPPl ONES. " The open brow, the softly beaming eye, The happy smile, — what else could they require P " " I TELL you, Alf, I don't like the job. I wish we Eould have got your mother down. I know well enough how to set about hiring men-folk ; but women- kind are a different thing — governesses of all others ! I am afraid I shall never remember half the questions to ask her." " I should not ask her many, father," replied Alf, /aughing ; " I think if I liked her looks and manners, I should be satisfied without any more." The father turned a full, clear, half-quizzing eye on the youth opposite him, and slightly shook his head. " No doubt that would be enough for you,^^ he replied, " but how would it do with the mother ? " Alf only laughed, and went carelessly on with his breakfast, and his father musingly continued — " Yes, it must be something beyond good looks, if Julie and Bessie are to get any good from their governess." " But good looks don't hinder good teaching, father," urged the youth. 14 FIRST IMPBEBST0N8 OFTEN HAPPT ONES. " Maybe not. I wish you could have done the business ; but I see that would never do though — • you are only seventeen, Alf. Besides, the lady her- self wouldn't like it. Well, it's time I was off, or I shan't have done that stroke of business I mentioned to you about the wheat, in time for this other appoint- ment." And he jumped up, took his hat, and left the room. " Don't forget, father, the servant mother wanted," shouted Alf mischievously after him, as he walked down the passage. " Confound the petticoats ! " was the reply, deep and low. If he had only a lady -friend to do the business for him ! But he had not ; for the lady at whose house the appointment was made, he learned, had been suddenly called away a few miles from Adelaide, and his time was too limited to allow him to wait her return. He had only, therefore, the alternative of meeting the governess in person ; and with many uneasy, awkward feelings, the wealthy landowner, with his pockets lined with gold, turned his steps to the house in question. He reached it, and a moment after was shown into a little pai'lour, half dark it appeared to him, for the blinds were let down to exclude the sun, and everything appeared black as he entered. When sight was restored to him, he became con- scious that a little figure had risen from an adjacent pouch, and stood waiting his pleasure — and such a riEST IMPRESSIONS OFTEK HAPPY ONES. 15 little figure — such a sweet, fresh face — that the worthy- farmer, scarcely knowing what he did, seized the little hand, and shook it warmly. " I am here in compliance with the request of your letter," said a soft voice. But Mr. Burton in- terrupted — " Oh, yes. Do you think it will suit yotl though, miss ? You have never been in the country, have you ? " " I have only arrived a fortnight in the colony," 3aid Marian, with a smile. " I want a home — I oannot stay with my friends ; I wish to be useful and independent." " I think you'll do us well enough," returned the farmer, entirely forgetting the string of questions, and as much taken as Alf would have been by the pretty little face and figure. " I guess you'll do us — that is, the missus — well enough. But the thing is, miss, I'm afraid you won't like our country ways and lifa" " I think I shall, very much," replied Marian, laughing. " Will you try me ? " she added, quietly. " With all my heart ! and if you should not like up home, I'll engage to bring you back to your friends. That's all fair." " Or if Mrs. Burton should not like me," put in Marian, rather archly. "No fear of that," said the farmer, laughing ; "my good wife has a kind heart in her, and nags no one but me, and I don't care, so you will be safe. Now don't yon want to know something about us ? " 16 FIEST IMPEESSIONS OFTEN HAPPY ONES. " My cousin came with me. He has learned from the gentleman of the house all that is necessary. He will be happy to see you, sir. He is waiting below. Do you leave town soon ? " " By six to-morrow morning at latest," returned the farmer. " Can you be ready ? " " The notice is short ; but I can be ready as you wash. My cousin, Mr. Grenville, will bring me and my luggage." " Then till that time, good-bye ;" and he heartily shook her hand. " I will see your cousin, and arrange matters with him ;" and with another glance at Marian, he turned away, well satisfied with the business he had accomplished. *' Well, father, is this irksome matter settled ? " was the laughing exclamation of Alf, as, about two hours after, Mr. Burton sauntered into the room in time for dinner. " Settled, signed, and sealed, boy. What's for dinner ? " " I don't know. But, father, have you seen her ? Is she good-looking, this governess ? " " Yes. A regular stunner. A great deal too pretty and too good for the bush, Alf; that's all I'm afraid of But she thinks not, though I told her as much. She thinks she shall like the bush." " So say I," said Alf, " if she's any sense. Who ivould not prefer the bush to dusty old Adelaide ? My throat won't get clear till I've had a good drink oi water from our spring. It never does." FIEST IMrEESSIONS OFTEN HAPPY ONES. 17 " Well, I'm afraid she won't like to stop. I have a very good opinion of her, poor young thing — an orphan too. Her friends speak highly of her. I don't think the bush will suit her ; she's too pretty." " Why? " asked Alf, half piquedfor his favouritehome. " Why — if you were a little older, Alf ; but then there is Allen. Well, I have my own thoughts ; but I am afraid, after all, it won't do." Alf waited with no little curiosity the approach of six the next morning. The Irish servant was already in the dray, with her own and the young lady's lug- gage, besides a whole host of home-purchases, from hats for the girls to tobacco for the men. Alf and his father were riding, and on a horse close by was a new side-saddle ; and when, within the time, Marian Herbert appeared in her riding-dress and broad hat, her soft brown ringlets playing over her flushed cheeks, her hand clasped in that of her cousin, Alf felt she was almost too good for them. "She will be the light of some one's home," thought Grenville, as, having assisted her to the saddle, and received her half tearful, half gay adieu, he stood moodily watching her as they cantered off. She turned once and waved her hand to him. He raised his hat from his brow, and the next moment sh*" was gone. Left alone with her new companions, very naturally Marian's first inclination was to look at them mort closely. She could do this very well beneath her l?road hat without being observed. She took her fill 18 riKGT liintcssioNs often happy ones. of observation. The farmer rode at her side. A fine, tall, stout man he was. So strong he looked, as though he could have lifted her in his arms, and carried hei all the way without fatigue. There was a free, frank, open expression in his countenance that greatly pleased her. The lines of the mouth were relaxed very often to smile, and his laugh was genuine and hearty. Mr. Burton, or Squire Burton, as he was often called in his own neighbourhood, was by no means a bad-looking man ; and Alf, who rode slightly in advance, had all the glorious promise of his father's manhood. He was truly the son of his father ; the same clear brow, tlic same laughing blue eye, the same tall figure, only it was fair hair that curled up from his sunburnt brow and peeped beneath the brim of his cabbage-tree hat. *' If these are only samples of the rest of the family, I shall do very well," thought Marian, as she finished her observations ; and by the time they reached tlie end of their day's journey, the three were on the best possible terms with each other, and Alf had so fai forgotten his shyness as to leap from his horse when they stopped at the little inn where they were to pass the night, make a stirmp with his hand, and receive the little governess, as she dismounted from her steed, in his arms. ** Y26," he mnrmm-ed to himself, before he closed his dyes that night, " I am afraid she is too pretty, too gentle to manage Julie and Ik'ssic, the wild gipHies, however she may succeed with AUeu and me." CHAPTER IV. A SLY PEEP LN THE MOONLIGHT. •' In full-orb'd glory, yonder moon divine, Rolls througli the dark blue depthfl." It was October; and though the days were warm, the evenings were generally chilly. Now and then, to be sure, would come a suffocating night, close and sultry, when open doors and windows became very desirable, just to remind one of what might be expected later in the season. But in general, par- ticularly in the October of our tale, closed doors and blazing logs were still considered pleasant and requisite. The dew had fallen heavily after sunset, and the evening consequently proved cold and comfortless without, but a glowing log breathed a warm welcome on the wide hearth of the homestead sitting-room and the rich light danced and gleamed over the plentifully set tea-table, glittering on the bright spoons and shining blue ware, and immense can-like tea-pot. Mr. Burton and Alf were expected home — two who were always missed from the homestead wheu away, and warmly welcomed on their retttfo 20 A 8LT PEEP TS THE MOONLIGHT. On counting the cups, too, that stood in readinesa on the board, it was easy to discern that one more than the family was expected, without the evidence of shght nervousness that Mrs. Burton occasionally exhibited, or the flushed cheeks that the girls turned towards the door at every slight sound that rose without. It was a very pleasant room, that sitting-room — very ; in spite of that colonial look of homehness that was strongly visible everywhere. The tables — there were two of them — one back against the wall, the other, stretching its huge length down the centre of the room — were, like the chairs and settles, of roughly hewn gum and cedar, with the exception of two large easy-chairs, occupying either side of the hearth, whose luxurious cushions of maroon leather and good work- manship made them look a little out of place with the rest of the furniture, only the leather had lost its pristine purity, and bore evidence of being often in requisition. They were for the use of the heads of the family, but little enough Mrs. Burton used hers. The seat she slighted was by common consent usually occupied by her eldest-born, Allen, her favourite son, if indeed she had any favourites. We have said it was a difficult matter for Mrs. Burton to keep quiet long. It was not her forte, perpetual motion suited her better. At the present moment, as she considered it unbecoming her dignity to appear engaged in any domestic employment on thr first entrance of the stranger, she had taken a «eftt A 8LT PEEP IN THE MOONLIGHt. 21 near the table, and was knitting away with an energy which promis(!d the speedy completion of the stocking in hand. She was a little woman — big men usually take little wives — a plump little woman, with a J>leasant, brisk, motherly air and soft motherly eyes, albeit eyes that could flash and sparkle when they liked, and that saw into everything that was going on. The hair that swept from the brow in soft bands was very light, a kind of hair that is unknown to silver ; and a very pretty tasteful black cap, with a running wreath of forget-me-nots on either side behind the ear, completed the pleasant picture. She had been very pretty, that was evident in the good features remaining, and by no means vulgar ; for, amidst all her colonial experience there was a sort of gentility (we will use the hateful word, for we have no better to express our meaning) remaining. And notwithstanding a decided love for her own way, and attachment to the last word, as her husband always said, she was a devoted wife, a careful, industrious housekeeper, and a most loving mother — in her turn tenderly beloved. Bessie, the pet, the romp, the plaything of the family, was seated on a low stool at her mother's feet, mischievously engaged in tying a handkerchief round the head and face of a black kitten, and then making it run, and merry was her pealing laughter as, in its fright and bUndness, it knocked first against one thing and then against another, mewing aloud in its terror. 22 A SLY MBt IN THE MOONIIGST. In the depth of one large chair — her father's chair— » fat Julie, a tall, fair girl of thirteen, with languid blue eyes, and a very pale, delicate complexion, tinted only with the faintest rose. Her long silken hair was parted smoothly behind her ears, but hung over her shoulders in profusion in a state of nature. One little hand supported the pretty rounded chin, the other lay listlessly upon her lap. Very pensively was the little maiden gazing into the fire ; and had she been a yeai or two older, the tinge on her cheek, deepening with every passing sound, the quiver of the red lips, the trembling of her hands, would have warranted other conclusions. As it was, she was only expecting the governess, and not a lover. In the opposite chair, his accustomed seat, reclined in perfect ease the eldest son, Allen, with a book in his hand, from which he now and then threw a very amused look at his mother and Julie. He noted well the rapid, restless movement of the knitting-needles, and the quick flushing of his sister's cheek. " How frightened they are at this unknown wo- man ! " he thought, with a smile curling his slightly moustachioed lip ; " frightened at the very fulfilment of their wishes. I wonder myself rather what she is like ; it does not follow necessarily that she must be either old or ugly." A fine-looking young fellow Allen was, but not so stout as Alf. His eyes were of a deeper blue, — more his mother's eyes, more like Julie's, — and his waving hair, sweeping far back from a very good forehead, A HLT PEE:e IN THE MOONLIGHT. 2S was much darker, and carefully attended to, while his brother's was often in disorder. Even the dress he wore had somewhat a gentlemanly appearance ; the dark stuff jumper descending lower than ordinary, and open at the bosom to display a clean shirt and care- fully tied silk neckcloth ; and his boots, though strongly, were neatly made, showing that appearance was studied almost equally with strength ; they wc-re clean, too, these latter appendages, for he liked clear boots, though he very often had to clean thenj bim- self. But somehow or other, all the lighter — the less rough — portion of the farm-work fell to AUen by common consent. He in general transacted business in Adelaide, rode to the neighbouring township for letters, or, stock-whip in hand, brought in cattle from the run, or drove them out, as might be. He under- took the buying or selling of stock, the overlooking of the men, sometimes the payment of wages. In all these things he was his fatber's right hand — the pride of his mother's heart. But he never touched the handle of a plough, never drove a dray, never held a sickle ; Alf was the master here, and as skilful in his departments as his brother in those peculiar to him. There was several years' difference between the brothers, though Alf looked much older than he really was. Two other boys there were, Frank and Charlie, the one between Alf and Julie, the next between Julie and Bessie. These, as our first chapter intimated, were at the distant township, getting education, and kad 24 A SLY PEEP EN THE MOONLIQUI'. been doing so right o^ for six months. Poor boys! in common with other bush children, they had had little enough previously, except that Tvhich tlie farm afforded, and of that they had had a pretty good share. We need not say how culpable is the conduct of many parents in our adopted country, who, awarding to the schoolmaster a quarter now and a quarter then, are pleased to term this educating their children. Sm-ely no better fate awaits the unfortunate tutor of these very wild young ideas than that inflicted, according to the heathen fable, as a severe punishment — the filling with water of a tub full of holes. O love of the filthy lucre, how dost thou worm into the very heart of our people ! Gold, gold ! what a canker iliou leavest in the soul ! But why should we say all this at the present moment, when, too. Education was very pleasantly cantering along the beaten road to the homestead in Squii-e Burton's compan3\ Forgive us, gentle reader, that even for a moment we should have forgotten it. " Your father is late," at length said IMrs. Burton, addressing Allen, and giving vent to her growing weariness. " A sure proof he has some one with him not accus- tomed to long journeys on horseback, motlier," replie( Allen, smiling. " Hark ! — yes ! Here they are. There is Alf's signal." And clear and musical, though still distant, rose the well-known cooey on the quiet breeze. A. SLY PEEP rsr THE MOONLIGHT. 25 Allen rose quickly from his seat, and took his hat, " Will re are you going, Allen ? " asked his nnother, anxiously. " To the slip-panel, mother ; it's not worth while for father or Alf to dismount to let it down." Then, turning laughing to his sister, who had sprung to her feet, and stood shivering with excitement be- fore the fire, he put his arm caressingly round her, exclaiming, "You little goose, liow you tremble! What have you to be frightened about ? Don't you think your big brother will be able to protect you from all the governesses in the colony ? " " O Allen ! " and the tears came quickly with the sigh, but they were hid on his arm : " O Allen, I can't stay in the room." He took hold of the pale little face in both his hands and kissed the trembling lips. " You shan't then," he exclaimed, firmly. " Go, put on your hat and shawl, and come with me. We'll have a sly peep at this formidable governess together in the moonlight." " Where are you off to, Julie ? " inquired her mother, as, wrapt in shawl and hood, she joyfully but timidly followed Allen to the door. " She is off with me, mother. I want her." And knowing that explanation was conclusive, they set off together. "O Allen," said Julie, with a sigh of relief, "I am so glad you let me come with you." 26 A 8LT PEEP m THE MOONLIQnt, " You are trembling yet, little puss ;" and he passed his arm firmly round her waist. " Oh, I don't care now," said Julie ; " I don't know why I am so frightened, either." " Nor I. After all, perhaps you may frighten the lady more than she will frighten you, Julie." She laughed merrily. " I ! How could I, Allen?" " How ? Why with this long hair of yours. I should not wonder if she take you for a mermaid. I hope she reckons hair-dressing among her other accomplishments, and will make my little sister a young lady in appearance ; as lady-hke as she is good and pretty." " There is Alf's cooey again," said Julie, after a moment's pause. " Won't you cooey an answer, Allen ? " " I never cooey, Julie, but I will answer ;" and ne turned up the end of the whip he held in his hand, and blew a series of clear, shrill blasts. The moment after they stood at the slip-panel, and Allen leisurely let down the rails one after the other, and then, taking his sister again round the waist, drew her into the shadow of a she-oak, a Httle on one side of the entrance. ** There now, Julie, we can satisfy our curiosity as much as wo like. We can see them clearly in the bright moonlight, but they cannot tell us till we show ourselves. Ah, there they come, helter skelter ! No. Well, I never ! Bravo, Alf ! Do you see them A SLY PEEP TN THE MOOKLIGHT. 27 Julie ? Alf is not overawed at any rate ; he is leading her horse." " Where, Allen, where ? " whispered Julie. " Coming down the hill. Don't you see ? " " Oh, yes. She wears a large hat. Allen, hark ! " For a clear sweet laugh, in answer to a speech from Alf, came echoing down the hill. "What do you think of that, Julie?" exclaimed her brother. " Nothing very frightful there, I should say." " The slip-panel is down, father," cried Alf, " and Allen is somewhere about, I know. That was his whistle, I'm sure." Allen and Julie laughed in their retreat. They could not be seen, and at the same moment the whole party rode into sight. " The homestead is close at hand now, Miss Her- bert," cried Alf, laughing. " This is father's home section." "I am very glad, for I really am tired now," returned Marian's musical voice. " Do we dismount here ? " " If Allen was only here," cried Alf, " he could help me in with the horses, and then you could walk up to the house with father." " Allen is here," said his brother, coming forward with Juhe. He had whispered that an introduction in that pale moonlight would be better than in the full blaze of the log-fire at home. " Allen is here, at your service, Alf;" and raising his hat from his brow, he approached the lady's horse. ^8 A SLY PEEP IN THE MOONLIGHT. " If the young lady would allow me to lead her horse, I should suggest that plan as the best. The grass is very damp. I think my sister's feet are already wet." " My son, my eldest son Allen," said the squire, riding up. "And well, I declare, there is one of your pupils, Miss Herbert. Why, Julie ! is that you p.i " Could not stop in the house till you came, fatlier ! so I brought her along," said Allen, laughing, Julie was thankful he had spoken for her, though she was very much reassured by a sight of the face beaming beneath the hat, and by the kind pressure of the little hand that bent over the saddle to take hers, as well as by the easy manners of her father and Alf. " Lift her up to me, Allen ; she is not more glad to Bee me, than I her," said the squire. And Allen took his sister in his arms, and placing her before his father, returned to his self-constituted post. " Two more of the family," thought Marian — " all well yet ;" and she gave a satisfied glance at the tall, not ungraceful figure in the belted jumper, who walked before with such perfect notichalance, the bridle on his arm, and his hand upon tlie neck of the horse. "All right, Julie?" he whispered, as he lifted her down from her father's horse, when they stopped at the door. A BLT PEEP IN THE MOONLIGHT. 29 A low satisfied " Yes " rewarded him for his trouble, and he turned away to assist the young governess to alight. As he did so, the full light of the sitting-room poured through the open door, and the sweet face beneath the hat was fully revealec to him. CHAPTER V. THE NEW HOME. " No home is by the wanderer found— 'Tis not in place : it hath no bound. It is a cii'cling atmosphere Investing all the heart holds dear." V^ERT timidly the morniug sun stole iu and gilded one end of the pillow on which Marian's head rested. It did not wake her; she had been awake from the first peep of day, not dreaming, but reflecting upon her novel situation. She had been successful, very Buccessful ; she thought of this with clasped hands and closed eyes. He, the " Father of the fatherless," had not forsaken her, she could trust Him still, trust Him with all her perplexities, all her troubles, all her trials, and she would do so, for in no safer hands, in no safer friend could she confide. She sat up a moment, leaning back against her pil- low, to survey her room ; for the night previous she was too tired, too glad to jump into bed, too thankful to fall asleep, to notice anything about it ; and now, refreshed with a quiet, undisturbed night, she en- joyed looking round her and taking notes accord- THE NEW HOME. 31 And a very neat little room it was for a bush re- sidence ; but Marian had too recently arrived from England not to be greatly amused with what she saw. The rough, plastered, whitewashed walls, the calico ceiHng, the uneven, loose-boarded floor, di- verted her highly, and the quaint little window, in its wooden framework, unpainted, unpolished, seemed so strange to her. And yet in how many houses, in- stead of that calico ceiling, she would have looked up to the rafters, and seen the stars shining above her head ; instead of that rough-boarded floor, her little feet, as she sprang from her bed, would have encountered the bare earth. But was there a repining thought in the depths of Marian's heart ? No, not one. Only pleanure — thankfulness ; yes, absolute pleasure. The reception had been so kind, so warm, that she felt in reality she should " be treated as one of the family." And this prepared her to be pleased with all she saw. It was so pleasant, in this strange land, to find a home — the very thing of all others her soul craved after. Her eyes soon formed an inventory of her accommo- dation. A large packing-case, neatly curtained with chintz, and covered with a snowy cloth, did duty as a toilette table ; on this a large and rather handsome looking-glass swung in its pohshed frame; a wash- stand of unpainted wood, the work of some country carpenter, supplied with ample earthenware accom- modation, and plenty of fresh, clear water and towels, occupied another corner. Two chairs, and her little 32 THE NEW HOME. iron bedstead, white and snowy in its arrangement, completed the list. She walked to the window, and drawing aside the little white curtain, looked out. Ah ! that was a sight worthy of long regard, for the additional rooms had certainly been built at the besl side of the house. What a slope — green and grassy ! down from the very house it went, ending in a little creek, the murmur of whose waters she could hear even there. There they came, rushing and tumbling wildly down a little broken dechvity. She could see the miniature cascade, the white foam, the troubled waters, as they rushed on and on, hiding themselves at length from her view amidst a cluster of tea-tree bushes. Then across that creek, spanned by a fallen tree, how pleasant to look ! up and up the eye must go. Grass, and huge blocks of rock, and flowers showing their blue heads, and trees — golden-tipped, light, feathery trees, new to her eye — the mystic she- oak, with its strange whispering leaves, in clusters they stood, here and there interspersed by an old gum or a young cherry tree ; and above all these was the sky, fair, rose-tinted in its first young beauty, blush- ing at her regard. Marian crept back to her bed with her lashes positively gemmed with happy tears ; she threw her arms round her pillow, and hid her face upon it, and E^ utter gratitude of heart she breathed forth her inurning prayer — a prayer that she might not have come vainly to this lovely spot ; that her life might b^ one of useiulness, of devotedness to Him who had THE NEW HOME. 83 given it ; and as she prayed, she slept, and her sleep was sweet. When she again awoke, it was with the very audi- ble sounds of active life around her. The inmates of the homestead had long been up, and were all employed in their usual avocations. The lowing of cows, the cackling of hens, the neighing of horses, and the rumbling of the dray-wheels all burst upon her astonished ear together, and presently a strange, sharp, cracking noise without, followed by a rush of tramphng hoofs, completed her consternation. In a moment she had leaped to the floor, and was once more at the window. Peeping this time more cau- tiously between the curtains, slie was just in time to hear a repetition of the strange sounds, and to dis- cover its cause. A mob of cattle rushed passed the window, cows fresh and wild from the run, with tiny calves lowing at their sides, and behind and round them, here and there, exhibiting no little skill in his horse- manship, Allen himself, stock-whip in hand, the immense lash of which he flourished to the no little disturbance of Marian's nerves. She flinched with every crack. And there, as she stood with her dishevelled curls resting on the delicate, frilled collar of her white night-robe, scarcely recovered from her startled awaken- ing, the door of her room was softly opened, and Mrs. Burton peeped in. She had expected to find the inmate of the room still sleeping, but as this was not the case, she advanced boldly m with a kind " Good- morning." o 84 THE NEW HOME. Marian was peeping yet through the window, and, more startled than ever, turned hurriedly round to see who had entered. A bright blush and a sweet smile stole over her face as she recognized the intruder, and took the offered hand, exclaiming, " I fear I am very late. Am I not ? " " I intended you should be, after your long journey," replied Mrs. Burton ; " I tried to keep the house as quiet as I could, but I expect Allen's whip has done the mischief." " Oh, thank you ; but I am quite rested now ; I ought to be up. That whip startled me much ; I could not imagine what it was." " Have you never heard a stock-whip before, my dear? " said Mrs. Burton, laughing. " Never. I was never even at a farm-house in England ; I have always been accustomed to Lon- don." " And do you think you shall like a country life ? " asked Mrs. Burton, rather doubtfully. " Oh, very much!" said Marian, warmlvj "I am sure I shall." Mrs. Burton looked very pleased. " We shall have something to teach you, as well as you us," she replied, smiling. " There's a deal of difference between town and bush life." " I shall like of all things to learn." Had she said this as a mere stroke of diplomacy, which was far from the case, it would have been im- possible for her to have uttered auvthinc that would THE NEW HOME. 35 have gained her a place so quickly in the heart of the mistress of the homestead. She was rewarded by a very loving look, a pressure of the hand, and finally a very motherly kiss ; and then assuring her that a nice little breakfast would be awaiting her in the sitting- room, the kind-hearted woman bustled away, and left her to dress in peace. She very soon accomplished that task, and stood in the sitting-room once more. How pleasant it looked in the morning light, with the bright bar of sunshine all across its floor, and breakfast nicely arranged for two, at one end of the long table. For two ? Yes, for the family had long since taken their morning meal ; and Allen, who had just returned from his early ride in the scrub, was hungry, — she heard him exclaim, laughing, to his mother, as she entered, "hungry as a hunter." He stopped short, not a little confused, as he caught sight of Marian in the entrance ; then mastering his bashfulness, with an effort he came forward, throwing aside his hat on his way to receive her, and wheeling the large chair he usually occupied, to the place assigned her at the table. " Mother tells me my whip startled you very much this morning," he exclaimed, after rather an awkward pause. There was a look of merriment in his eyes as he said it. ** I was a little frightened," replied Marian, smiling. " The sound was new to me. Had you far to go for those cattle? " 92 36 THB ITEW HOME. " Not far — twelve miles — I started at four this morning." " Do you call twelve miles not far ? " asked Marian, in surprise. He laughed. " A mere trifle ; our next-door neigh- bour is four miles distant. We have twelve miles to go for our letters." " You cannot go very often for them, then." The tone was rather a concerned one. " Every week, Miss Herbert," put in Mrs. Burton ; " no one thinks much of such a ride in these parts." Marian was glad to hear of it. The thought of her letters lying twelve miles distant for 'veeks would have been very intolerable. *' Oh," said Allen, " after you have been here a little time you will think nothing of such a ride. Here is part of my morning's work," and rising, he drew to her feet a string of wild pigeons — bronze-winged pigeons — beautiful even in death. " Oh, what lovely creatures ! What a pity to kill them! " and Marian took them in her hand and smoothed the ruffled plumage. " I fancy you will not say that at dinner. Miss Herbert," was the amused reply. " By the bye, mother, don't stew them, put them in a pie, they are ^ucb niser so." CHAPTER VI. THE MEBMAII) TRAJfSFORMED. " Fresh as the month, and as the morning fair, Adown her shoulders fell her length of hair." A PEW days passed on, and Marian Herbert and the homestead inmates were thoroughly at home with each other. Besides her morning occupation of instruction, she had taken many lessons. She had tried her hand at milking, with Julie, to the very- great amusement of the brothers, who contrived to be by on these occasions. She had chnrned and made up butter with Mrs. Burton ; sliced tobacco for the Squire's pipe ; hunted for eggs with Bessie ; practised leaping her horse over a log with Allen, and spoilt a beautifully crowned furrow with Alf, who insisted she should make a trial of the plough, because she told him " Ploughing looked easy enough, though very awkward ;" and so she had been scarcely a week with them when she was as much domesticated as though she had been a year. Her natural, free, frank way and manner, and ready aptitude in adapting herself to the habits of those around her, wero the principal cause 38 THE MEEMAID TEANSFOEMBD. of this, but scarcely more so than the careless, inde- pendent feehng engendered in the bush, yielding equality to all. Besides, hospitality is one of the household vii-tues of an Australian homestead, and in her case it was fully exercised. Julie and Bessie were not long in discovering they had nothing to fear from their new governess ; the roguish blue eyes of the romp took but a five minutes* consideration of the subject, and then the little hand stole into that extended to her, and with a sly upward glance she exclaimed, — " I don't think you will beat me." " Beat you, Bessie ? — no. How could you think of such a thing ? " returned Marian, laughing. " I am here to teach, and not to beat you. Do you not know, Bessie, it is one of the most delightful things to learn? " " Shall I be able to feed Jenny's calf, and play with Watch, and hunt eggs, if I learn ? " asked Bessie, rather wistfully. " Assuredly you will, and I will help you," though the last clause in the conditions rather puzzled Marian. " Are eggs gifted with the power of locomotion in the bush ? " she asked of Alf, who was present at Bessie's examination. He looked up from the spurs he was brightening with rather a puzzled expression, and she repeated the question in a simpler form. " Bessie talks of * hunting eggs ;' do eggs in the bush run off as soon as laid, like the hens that lay them ? " THE MERMAID TEANSFOEMED. 39 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! " Alf laughed most heartily. " Why, Alf, what is the matter ? " cried his mother, peeping in at the sitting-room door in surprise. " He is only laughing at my ignorance, Mr3. Burton. I did not quite understand what Bessie meant by ' hunting eggs.' " " Bessie, you will show Miss Herbert how you hunt eggs, won't you ? " said her brother, a little recovered from his laughter. The little girl looked from one to the other with a grave kind of scrutinizing glance. She was not quite satisfied as to the subject of their laughter, but she answered " Yes," half bashfully, and then added, with a look up at Marian, — " Shall I ? " And that being conceded. Miss Herbert was soon instructed in the egg-hunting business, and Bessie's little wild heart from that day forth was entirely won. The daily lessons went on well and rapidly, and so did the amusements too, a trifle less boisterously, perhaps, excepting when her father or Alf took a share in the fun, and they loved to see her in her wildest moods. On the part of the latter, Marian suspected a little mis- chievous intention ; but she left it to time to tame the little gipsy (for a work of time she knew it must be), and never hinted her suspicions. In Julie she had a more tractable pupil. The ma- terials were of a different character altogether. Not ■imply because she was older, but constitutionally, 40 THE MEEMAtD TBANSFOEMES. habitually different. Much might be ascribed to her attachment to her eldest brother, much to his affec- tion for her. When he was at home she was always near him. He often chose her for his companion when he went to shoot in the neighbouring scrub ; and, seated together under some shady tree, he had taught her to read. He read with her and to her from a volume of fugitive poems, that softened her nature, refined her spirit, subdued her style. To Allen, who had no Httle romance in his inner nature, it was a great pleasure to see his pet sister rapidly improving in loveliness as she increased in years. He had been the secret instigator at his mother's elbow, broaching the question of a governess, for he knew that his sisters would have a handsome dowei, and he longed to see them occupy a good position in the land of their birth. Education, he knew, was the first step on the ladder of life. To give pleasure to Allen was a joy to Julie's heart. She had not forgotten what he had called her, — " a mermaid," with her long, loose, flowing hair ; and after that she stole many times to the glass, to see if she could possibly devise any way more becoming ; for it was yet a stretch beyond her courage to appeal to Miss Herbert on the subject. But it was all in vain. Her inventive powers had flown. At length, about three or four days after her arrival, Miss Herbert, as she was passing quietly through the room adjoining her own, which had been set tflE MEEMAID TEANSFOEMUD. 41 apart for the school-room, and simply, though neatly, furnished for the purpose, was suddenly arrested by an unexpected sight. There was an antique glass in one corner of the room, placed there for no particular purpose, excepting that of adding to the furnished appearance of the place. It had been made use of that evening though, evidently, for before it was brush and comb, and tangled ribbon ; and seated on a chair, with her long, fair arms extended on the table beneath, and her face hidden on them, while in wilder disorder than ever, the beautiful hair fell over her shoulders, was Julie, in despair and tears. What could it mean ? Marian stopped a moment to ask herself the question — just a moment — and then softly tiptoed to Julie's side, and lifted her up, ex- claiming with a half-merry, half-sympathizing face, " Why, JuHe ! " Julie half struggled to get away, in her sudden surprise ; then glancing into the kind face looking down at her, she as suddenly twined her arms round Marian's waist, and hid her tearful eyes on her bosom. " In trouble, Julie, and not tell me ! " said Marian, half reproachfully. " Come, come, that is scarcely fair." " But it is such a little — such a silly trouble, you will think," said Julie, half smiling. " Not so little, Julie, if it can bring all these tears, Biu'ely ! " " Oh, but the thing itself ia ! It is not for myself I care." 42 I'HE MEBMAID TRANSFOEMED. « Whom for, then, JuUe ? " " For Allen. You see, Miss Herbert," contmued Julie, gathering courage, " Allen does not like to see me with my hair like this ; and I have been trying, oh, so many times, to alter it, but cannot." The tears were fast flowing again. " You are very fond of Allen, Julie." " Oh, yes. He does everything for me." " And you would do everything for him ? I under- stand, Julie." And Marian kiseed the white brow from which she was parting the soft abundant hair. " Why did you not tell me all this before ? I do not like your hair in its present state either, love ; and unlike your brother, have been busy devising a plan to make it more presentable. Come into my room ; we will see what can be done, and whether it is possible to please this anxious brother of yours." Allen had been, since morning, at a distant stati(^. But after the evening meal had been taken, his cup and carefully prepared tea remained in waiting. It was almost dark when at last he was seen crossing the creek with his hot and dusty horse ; and leaping from his saddle, he threw the reins across the animal's neck, leaving it to take its own way to the stable, and entered the house. It was all quiet in the sitting- room — dark and silent. The family was all dispersed about the house and yards around ; and quietly taking his accustomed seat, he leant back at his ease, and looked musingly into the fire. But he had not been seated there very long before there was a gentle foot- THE MEEMATD TEANSFORMED. 43 step behind his chair, and his eyes were suddenly covered by two little hands. " Julie ! Ah ! puss, it's a poor game to try and deceive me," he laughed, taking hold of her hand, and lifting her round the chair on to his knee. But he suddenly stopped then. Was it Julie ? and half re- linquishing his hold, and wholly withholding the kiss, he exclaimed, " Why, what young lady are you?" for in the murky light, the gracefully rolled silken hair, the pretty Madonna-like face, were unknown to him. The low laugh of unutterable pleasure reassured him. " Why, it is Julie ! " he exclaimed in astonishment, " after all. You sly puss ! Is this how you treat your brother? Come, let me have a good look at you. I shall want a dozen kisses for this, mind." And he again pulled her on his knee, and a very good look he took — a very satisfied look indeed. " Ah, Julie — that's it ; you beat Ellen Graham all to nothing. Dear me, what a difference it makes in you ! You are transformed. I don't know you. I shall have to take care now that some one don't run off with my little sister. Run, puss, and get a candle, and then give me my tea. Here, give me another kiss — now — quick. ' ' She soon came flying bacli again, laughing and blushing, with the light in her hand, followed by her mother. " Yes, hasn't it made a difference in Julie P " said 44 THE MEBMAID TE AJf SFOBMBD. the latter, in reply to the look of delighted astonish- ment Allen cast at his sister. " I couldn't have believed it," he returned. " It make« quite a young lady of her." Then pulling oflf his cap, he threw it to the other end of the room, " Beg pardon, Miss Julie, for wearing my cap in your presence," he continued, half teasingly. " Oh, don't, Allen ! " and Julie drew up close to him, and hid her face on his shoulders. " Sliall you not love me as well with my hair like this ? " " A great deal better, little silly, if that is possible. Look up, darling, and tell me, is this Miss Herbert's doings ? " Julie did tell him ; and Marian, when she camo in shortly after, was surprised by his warm thanks. CHAPTER VII. SABBATH IN THE BUSH. " There is a leBBon in each flower, A story in each stream and bower ; On every herb on which you tread Are written words which, rightly read, Will lead you from earth's fragrant sod To hope, to holiness, and God." The first Sabbath in the bush ! and what would it be like ? Marian went to sleep with that thought upon her mind, and her dreams convoyed her back to her English home and the quiet house of prayer. The soft, mellow chime of bells was mingled with the breeze in her happy sleep. But the morning light dispelled the illusion. She awoke — and with a half sigh remembered how far distant she was from all most precious to her. But then came sweet Bible words to relieve her sadness, and " I will be with thee in all places whithersoever thou goest," was a promise that soothed her sorrowing spirit, and chid her for her sadness. " Can I want more ? " she asked herself ; " can I have more ? Having Christ, have I not all things ? What can it signify where I am, He being there ? Oh, it cannot, it cannot. I will trust in Him, and l» 46 SABBATH IS THE BUSH. not afraid." It was yet early, but she arose, and tying on her large hat, Bible in hand, found her way quietly out of the house, and sauntered across the little creek that glistened from her window in the morning sun, and up, up among the she-oaks and black woods and rocky masses of stone, till she had gained the top of the ascent. And then how well wao she repaid! Far down below her was the homestead — quiet — undisturbed — wrapped in deep slumber. Ho\v far below it looked, embosomed by the distance in trees, with the little creek, as a silver thread, twining in and out, till it was lost among the bushes at the bend of the hill. The old gums — those gums upon which she had gazed so contemptuously when first she fiaw them after her voyage, comparing them with the gracefully timbered trees of Old England, — even they excited an interest — even they looked beautiful in the morning sunlight. And between those trees, how beautiful were the glimpses of the hay ! some waving, some already mown, sending through the air a sweet, sweet fragrance. And yet another tint of green was there in the graceful ears of corn — not yet " white unto harvest," but bearing ample promise of abundant future. Behind her rose other hills, thick with foliage, in dark relief against the sky ; others still green with the unseared grass and herbage, swelled and undulated without a single tree upon them, and yet their very indentations rendered them beautiful. To her right hand, meeting the clear horizon, the glassy waters I BABBATH IN THE BUSH. 4)7 of a lake were visible. The morning sun had left a portion of his radiance on its smooth unruffled bosom. Between her and the lake there seemed a continuation of scrubby plains, though more imme- diately near there was an abundance of fenced land, rife with the reward of the husbandman's labour. The left looked towards Adelaide. She could see the slip-panel at which she had been first introduced to Allen and Julie, and the long, narrow, fenced-in road up which she and Alf had so gaily cantered on ap- proaching it. How pleasant it looked — delightful for a ride : the young wattles on either side, yellow with profusion of blossom, and pouiing their perfume on the early breeze. How glad she felt that she had quitted her room betimes, and explored this dear hill, whence all the most beautiful points of the land- scape could be seen at once, and where her retire- ment was so complete. She started, for at that moment a strange wild " Ha-ha-ha-ha ! " was poured contemptuously into her ear, and half frightened she sprang to her feet, for she had seated herself on the trunk of a fallen tree, to enjoy her view at leisure. But who was her rude disturber ? One of the farm men, perhaps ? She began to descend the hill fast, as she remembered how far distant the homestead was beneath her, not wishing for such a companion. But she had not proceeded many yards when the same defiant laugh of derision was repeated — this time quite close to her ; and the next moment there flew out of an adjacent tree a strange-looking bird, with 48 SABBATH TS THE BTJSH. enormous bill, who, perching upon a huge block of stone some little distance off, again repeated his ridiculous laugh. This time Marian joined it heartily, blushing at her fears. " How silly I was to be sure ! " she exclaimed. *' I had forgotten all about this singular bird ; for this must be the * laughing jackass.' I shall ask Allen, for I shall only get laughter and quizzing from Alf ; he never will give me a straightforward answer to a question." And still laughing, she retraced her steps, and again took her seat on the fallen tree. But now that merry triumphant laugh had swelled to a complete chorus, and at once the inmates of every nest responded. Some with sharp, shrill, single cries ; some with strange twittering ; some with a note or two sounding like the commencement of melodious bird-song, but no more than commence- ment ; yet, above all — soft, clear, rippling, gushing — was poured forth the exquisite song of the natrye magpie, gurgling joyously ; inexpressibly sweet i.ad touching were some of the notes. It seemed as though that little throat throbbed with ecstasy. MarianVj heart throbbed in sympathy ; and burying her face i/i her hands, and bending low upon a projecting branch of the fallen tree, she poured out her soul in Sabba'sh prayer and praise. " Where's Miss Herbert, Alf? Do you knoM ?** asked his mother, walking into the sitting-room, whore the cloth had just been spread for breakfast. SABBATH IN THE BUSH, 49 " I, mother ! — how should 1 1 " answered Alf, mer- rily ; " in her room, f suppose. ' " No, she isn't ; her window was open when your father first got up. Breakfast's ready." " I haven't seen her. She's off exploring some- where, I dare say. Where's Bess and Julie ? " " Bessie's feeding the calf, and Julie's not very well. She's not up yet." " Ah, well ! I'll try what a cooey will do. I'll look for her." And Alf left the room. He carelesslj' drew to the edge of the creek. Allen was there, watching the deep, cool draught his favourite horse was imbibing, and enjoying as usual the quiet charm of the running rippling water. "Well, Alf!" " Well, Allen ! what am I after ? says the look of your face, as clear as looks can speak." " Since you read the question so well, what is the answer ? I'm not so clever. Is it breakfast ?" " Not exactly ; there's no cooey yet. I'm after a missing heifer." "What! Red Foley again? Why, I thought I fastened her in securely last night." Alf laughed a low chuckling laugh. " No, it's not Red Foley, never fear ! It's Brown Foley, if you like to call it so." "Have done with your enigmas, Alf, and say clearly what you mean," said Allen, impatiently. "Am I ♦wanted?" " Some one else is,'' said Alf, with a double meaning 50 SABBATH IN THE BUSH. in his tone. " Wl41 then," he exclainaed, seeing there was no time to trifle any longer, for he caught a glimpse of his mother at the door, " do you kpow where Miss Herbert is ? Breakfast is waiting." " It would have waited less time had you told me what you wanted before," replied Allen, coolly point- ing up the hill, where, just peeping through the trees, a fold er two of Marian's dress, and the large drooping hat, were visible. Alf laughed again, his teazing, tantalizing laugh, and glanced archly at his brother. " I thought you were over-particular with Prince Charlie's breakfast," he mischievously exclaimed, springing over the creek, and up the hill beyond hearing ; but Allen had not answered — he had only turned disdainfully away and walked slowly towards the house. He stood a moment at the door before entering, and gave one upward glance. Alf, with Marian's hand fast in his own, was half-leading, half-compelling her footsteps down the steepest portion of the hill, saucily laughing at her fears. Not very well pleased by the sight, evidenced by the knitted brow, the compressed lip, and under-breathed " Pshaw," Allen did not look again, but quietly took his seat at the breakfast-table, and engrossed him- self so entirely with attention to his pale little sister Julie, that he never even raised his eyes, when a moment or two after, his brother entered with Marian leaning on his arm, and a most provoking smile on his lips, as he took away her hat and book, and placed BABBATH DT THB BUSH. 61 her in her seat, drawing his own chair close to herg, and as far from Allen's as agreeable to his mischievous humour. " And what are you going to do with yourself to-day, Julie ? " asked Allen, affectionately, as he carefully selected a tempting morsel of ham for his delicate sister. " Will you take a ride on Dapple ? You want something to relieve those poor pale cheeks." Julie thr^w one arm round her brother, and lifting her lips to his ear, whispered something that rather oddly brought the blood to his brow, for the whisper was a very audible one. " Take us to chapel, dear Allen. I know very well Miss Herbert would rather go there than anywhere ; and it would be a famous ride, too," " Miss Herbert again," thought Allen ; but he felt he must say something. " Speak for yourself, little one ; how do you know Miss Herbert wishes to ride?" " Oh," said Julie, blushing, " I heard her asking mother how far it was to chapel, and I knew you would take us." Alf laughed. " Well done, Julie ! And so I'm to be left out of the question it seems ? or perhaps you think my escort will not be acceptable." Julie looked doubtfully at her brother, but did not reply. Allen coloured highly, and looked down, and Alf merrily continued, — " ypu see, Miss Herbert, Julie places the affectiom 62 SABBATH IN THE BTTSH. of everybody where her own are, and I am of course no sort of a companion ; but you will bear witness to the contrary, will you not ? " Marian laughed. " What is the question ? If it is whether I should like to ride to chapel or not to-day, I can speedily answer that, — I should, very much indeed." " With me for an escort ? " "Be quiet, Alf! you will offend Miss Herbert." It was his mother who spoke ; for she had seen the upward glance and flash of Allen's eyes, and was fearful of something worse. A laugh from Alf ended the discussion, and breakfast went quietly on, and then the party separated. Marian stole off to her own little room, and sat, book in hand, at the open window waiting till her pupils should come to her as slie had requested them. But the wild little Bessie was off after the calves, and Julie was nowhere to be seen ; Alf, too, had left the house on some mission, and the other inmates had each their employment, although it was the Sabbath. Hearing a low tap at the door, Marian looked up, and thinking it was Julie, replied, " Come in, dear." But it was entirely out of her calculation that Julie's brother should accept the invitation ; he did, however, though he scarcely entered the door. " Was Julie right. Miss Herbert? " he asked hesi- tatingly. " Would you really like a ride to this chapel ? " '* X slioi^ld indeed, Mr. Allen," said Marian, with SABBATH IN THE BUSH. 63 animation. " That is," she continued, rather subdued by the thought, " if it will not make too much trouble. Is it very far ? " " Ten miles — a mere nothing. You would like it. That is sufficient," said Allen, quietly leaving the room. " Can you be ready in an hour, Miss Herbert, — you and Julie ? I'll have the horses round by that time," he exclaimed, returning. " Oh, yes, and thank you," said Marian, really gratified. " How kind of him," she thought, as she busied herself with preparations, in which Julie soon shared, radiant with pleasure. " Alf is going too," she exclaimed, " and he has not been for such a while. We none of ns go very often. AUen sometimes takes me, because he does almost anything I ask." " He has done what you asked to-day, Julie." " No, Miss Herbert, to-day it is for you, not for me only." " He is very kind to us both, then, Julie," was the reply ; and Marian renewed her preparations. The hour passed away, and the horses stood ready saddled at the door. Hymn-books and Bibles were carefully stowed away in the pockets of the saddles, and Marian and Julie were lifted to their seats by the attentive brothers. In a few moments all four were pleasantly cantering along a rather narrow track round the base of the she-oak hill ; the delicious breeze uplifting hats and curls and veils in very wantonness, as they gracefully passed along. How 64 SABBATH m tHB BtrSfi. delightfnl that breeze was to Marian ! What a sacred Sabbath stillness was there in the country around ! As yet the grass was unseared, and flowers fair and lovely to the eye bent beneath the feet of their horses. The whole air was rife with the per- fume of the wattle, and in and out its fragrant boughs twittered its little familiar, the wattle-bird, a wee brownie, with a beak the hue of the flowers whose name it bears. The Blue-Mountain parrot frequently flew across their path, and flocks of small green paroquets were scattered at intervals among the grass, almost invisible till close approach, so exactly did their plumage resemble the colour of the herbage. " Is not this a little better than dusty Adelaide, Miss Herbert ?" asked Alf, archly, reining his horse to her side, after they had cantered on some distance in silence, and the widening of the track permitted them to ride abreast. " It is not comparable with Adelaide at all, Mr. Alf. My real thoughts of Australia were rather gloomy on entering her port and city," replied the lady ad- dressed. " Your country, or bush, is really delightful." "But after all, not English," said Allen "Alf cannot appreciate that distinction, for he is a native of the colony, born and reared on the same soil. I, to be sure, was a mere urchin when we left the mother-country ; but for all that, memory and feeling and liking are pretty strong. I slioold like once more to tread on English ground." BlBBATtt IN THE BUfllt. 55 " That of course is very natural to any one who claims it for a birth-place," replied Marian ; " and there are many things in England that one mnsi regret, many things that can never be the same here. Yet I am quite of your brother's opinion, it is the fault of the discontented if they do not make them- selves happy in such a land as this." " Hurrah for Australia ! " shouted Alf, in boyish enthusiasm, tossing up his hat, and catching it again as he passed. " Your love for your country, Mr. Alf, is making you forgetful of the day," suggested Marian, gently. '* The day — oh ! Sunday — yes, I did forget. But, Miss Herbert, it is easy to see you have not been long in the bush ; we do not think much o^ such things as these out here. Sunday is not kept among the wattles." " You are giving Miss Herbert a very bad impression of our character, Alf," interposed Allen, gravely. "Not a false one, though," said Alf, merrily ; " not one in fifty miles round would think of playing th« game we are to-day. No, indeed ! they saddle their horses fast enough ; the men to cattle-hunt, the women to visit and gossip with their neighbours. Little time or inclination for chapel-going, I fancy ! " " One then would almost imagine that the univer- sal feeling in the bush is, that this is a country un« sanctified by the presence of a God, in which His precepts are not to be regarded, His word not read, His throne unaddressed ; a country over which He 5d SABBATH IN THE BUSH. exercises no rule, where man's natural passions and feelings and inclinations are to be left unrestrained," and Marian's cheek glowed with the indignant ex- pression of her thoughts. " It is rather a highly-coloured picture," replied Allen, sadly, " nevertheless, too true ; and I am afraid the inmates of the homestead too closely adhere to the outward semblance of sentiments which I do not believe any of them in reality have in their hearts." " ' A people who forget God,' — ' God is not in all their thoughts,' " said Marian, slor'dy, solemnly, thoughtfully, urging her horse forward as she spoke. Julie bent down towards her horse's neck, and a bright tear glistened on the pummel of her saddle. Allen looked very grave, and rode on in silence. Even Alf showed some evidence of thoughtfulness, though he lingered behind to cut a twig from an overhanging branch, and whistled in an undertone, as he slowly followed. He did not, however, again forget himself, or resume his boisterous air, for the rest of the ride. It was a little chapel, bull*-- of roughly hewn stone, and seated with plain benches, but Marian felt as she approached it a kindred warmth of feeling arise. Here, at least, were some who loved to keep holy- day; here, at least, were some whose homes were con- secrated to God ; and as she gathered up her long iabit, and followed with Julie into the lowly temple, Jier heart arose in thankfulness at this proof that God was present, even there. Nor did the primitive SABBATH IN THE BtJSH. 67 character of the service, the unlettered address, the rude singing, or repeated " Amen " responses to the prayer, dispel the fervent reverence with which her whole soul bowed before Him who condescendeth to " men of low estate." Alf glanced vainly many times for a response to the ridicule that curled his lip ; but Julie sat silent and pale by the side of her governess, many times turning a timid, half-inquiring gaze upon her ; and Allen, with his head resting on his hand, was looking very grave. Those words were following him, " God is not in all their thoughts," and for the first time there seemed something almost fearful in their im- port. And thus it ever is. We may again and again read the word of God as applicable to the case of others ; but it is only when brought home to our own hearts that it proves as a " sharp two-edged sword, dividing asunder the joints and marrow." CHAPTER VIII. HAETEST. •* How soon the golden field abonnds with sheavee I How soon tlie oats and bearded barley fall In fragrant lines before the keen-edged scythe I " Week after week passed, bringing with them the busy harvest months, and there was httle time for excursion or recreation then for Allen or Alf, or, indeed, any of the household. It was a strange spec- teicle to Marian, though familiar enough to farmers of any breadth in Australia, — the large kitchen, fitted up with groaning tables, surrounded by sun-embrowned men, all well qualified, in spite of heat and fatigue, to do credit to the abundant fare. In those days there was not much time devoted to lessons ; even Julie and Bessie were employed ; and, as a matter of course, poor Charlie and Frank had to tlirow aside their books and slates for the sickle or the reaping- machine. Morning after morning Marian emerged from her room, enveloped in a large apron, with sleeves tucked up above the elbow, ready to thrust hands and arms into the depths of the flour bag. Many a charming little nicknack of cookery from her HABTE8T. 69 busy fingers found its way into the lunch -bag of the father and brothers, neatly stowed thereby the pleased mistress of the house ; and as bushmen are by no means insensible to the attractions of the table, it was no wonder there were eager inquiries as to the source from whence the unusual luxuries came. " Well, father," said Alf, archly, one moriiing, as he drew from his wallet a novel species of pastry, with which his plate immediately fraternized, and saw the same result follow the opening of the other bags, " well, father, after all, were not our fears groundless ? and is not our governess a stunner ? " " Won't do always to go by appearance, Alf, that's what it shows ;" and Mr. Burton went on composedly and very satisfactorily eating his luncheon. " Who'd have thought of those bits of white hands turning out such first-rate bread as we have had this week? " persisted Alf; " mother says she insists upon making all that we use." " She beats Margery out and out — my word ! " chimed in Frank, eating his morsel with evident gusto, and plunging his hand into his bag for more. Allen ate his in silence. " This is Cherry's milk. Miss Herbert milked Cherry this morning," whispered Julie in her favourite brother's ear, as she brought her bright can of rich milk to his side. Her answer was a kiss, and he accepted a draught as though very thirsty, and then stealing away her can, pulled her to the ground by his side, and taking ^ fiABTEST. off her broad hat, fanned the heated brow, gently eaymg, " I wish Miss Herbert would do another thing, dear Julie, and forbid your coming out in the heat | you will be ill, pet, — your head is burning." " She did not know I was coming, Allen," said Julie, resting the burning head wearily against her brother's shoulder. " Well, you must promise me not to come out again in the hot sun. Mind, I shall take nothing more you bring. As to Bessie, the little gipsy will take no harm. Come, pet — do you think I want to lose my little sister ?— What ! tears ? " And thus Marian was fast stealing into the hearts of the homestead people, and was already writing pleasant, cheerful letters to her cousins, who, now comfortably situated, sent her many invitations to come to them. " I have got what I wanted, dear Isabel," she wrote, " a pleasant home. Mrs. Burton is almost like a mother to me, and Mr. Burton is one of the kindest of men. I am getting very much attached to my pupils, to Julie especially; and really, my dear cousin, much as I like to be with you, I cannot help feeling that my little glimmering light is destined to yield its tremulous flicker in this very spot. It is a very pleasant thought to me, that I may become the ii.strument of good here ; you know, God sometimes works by very feeble instruments, and by very meagre talents. Tell William I am both well and happy, aud Terjr sanguine." HARTBST. a It was really a pleasant sight to see the loaded wagons, moving heavily along the tracks, groaning beneath the precious grain ; and Marian liked the deep, drowsy hum of the machine, as it came from the old barn, where the winnowing was gaily going forward. Once, when short of hands, she went and gave her assistance, filling and refilling the tin dish to Alf's rapid turning. The noise was not quite so agreeable on close vicinity as at a distance, but she endured it the whole of one afternoon most bravely, heeding neither aching arms nor aching head, and rendering real assistance. As to Alf, it was really too pleasant to see those little hands working for him ; he never thought of her possible fatigue ; and towards the end of the long afternoon, when Allen, who had been away on business, entered the bam, she was wearied, heated, and with a severe head- ache. " Why, Alf, how's this ^ I'm surprised at you ! Miss Herbert is not used to such work." The machine was stopped at a look from him, and Marian's dish fell from her hands, as for a moment she leant against the machine-handle, the colour fading from her lips. Allen caught her as she was falling, and carrying her to the door, laid her on a heap of chaff at its entrance, while snatching off his hat, he fanned her vigorously with its broad brim. " I am sure. Miss Herbert, you must think me a very thoughtless fellow," said Alf, in a tone of vexa- tion, as he held a glass of water towards bey, 62 HABTEST. Allen took it impatiently from him, and held it to her lips. " Certainly, you manifest great consideration," he replied. " It was entirely my own fault," replied Marian, as revived by the air and cold water, she attempted to rise ; "I tried my strength too far. I should have given over before." " You should not have been here at all, Miss Her- bert," said Allen, " if I had been at home." Alf laughed, and turned again to his machine, and Marian suffered herself to be led to the house. And so an abundant harvest was gathered in ; and gradually the men not connected with the farm passed away. The hum of the winnowing machine was still heard, but there were hands sufficient at the homestead for that, and Allen returned to his usual duties. " You are going to Adelaide to-morrow, are you not, Allen ? " The soft voice and twining arms were Julie's. Her brother was seated at one corner of the veranda, near the sitting-room, smoking a little ebony pipe, and quietly musing. He laid down his pipe, and put his arm round her. " Well, Julie, and what then ? What am I to bring you ? " " Oh, I want something so much. Do you know, Allen," she continued, as usual approaching his ear, " Do you know Miss Herbert can play — on — on the piano ? Would you like me to learn ? " " T should like you to learn every nice accom- piishmeut, my little gis. What then? " He thoughti HABTEST. <'68 but he did not say, how often he had looked at the little hands, and conchxded that they were familiar with the piano-keys ; and if so, how much a piano must he missed. " I should like very much to learn if I could." And Julie hid her face on her brother's shoulder. " And wliat is there wanting to prevent your com- mencing at once ? " asked Allen, teasingly. " Allen, a piano ! If I only had a piano ! I know the notes already, and my time-table," " Hey-day ! you have made progress. Well, well, we will see what can be done ;" and he rose as he spoke. " Mind, Juhe," he continued, detaining her, " if I buy a piano it will be mine, and I shall only lend it to you and Miss Herbert." "Oh, yes; oh, yes;" and Julie's blue eyes swam with happy tears. " Can you keep the secret, then ? You must not breathe a word of it till I come back from Adelaide." "Oh, I won't, I won't!" "How about the music-books, though, Julie ? " " Oh, Miss Herbert has heaps and heaps. That large brown trunk that was so heavy, you remember, Allen, — well, that has only books and music and drawings in it." Allen walked slowly away. There was a burning thought at his heart ; if delicate fingers like Marian's, familiar as they were with ivory keys and crayons, could descend to the humble requirements of hfe, could make a pudding or a cake, or even household 64 HAEVEST. bread, and do all attempted so well, why should he, because he was a farmer, throw aside his Euclid or his algebra, his German or Latin, those cherished studies of former days ? Why should he not in his wallet of provisions for the outward man, place a little mental aliment when bound for a distant sta- tion ? Nay, why should he not keep up the natural talent for drawing he knew he possessed, when spare moments intervened ? If a bushman, he would not be an uncultivated one. And in addition to the piano, there was a reserve of drawing materials and classics for himself, jotted down in his memo- randum-book, which, could AJf have seen, would have called forth again and again his tantalizing laugh. A little later in the evening, AUen asked Marian for her commands in Adelaide, and she brought from her desk a letter to her cousin, which he promised to deliver into her own hands. It contained a little commission for some kind of fancy work for Isabel to procure, and the parcel was to be consigned to Allen's keeping on his return. So he particularly requested, and Marian was glad to yield to his entreaties. The sun had not stolen over the top of the she-oak hill, when Allen's horse stood at the door ready caparisoned for the journey. He was seated at his early breakfast, which one of the maids had prepared for him. His hat and whip and gloves lay near him, and his last cup of coffee was nearly finished, when the door of the sitting-room leading to the bed-rooms HARVEST. Co was lightly pushed open, and Julie, wrapped in her dressing-gown, appcai-ed. " Why, Julie ! out of hed at this time in the morn- ing ? It's too early for you, pet ; you are as pale as a snowdi-op, if you know what that is. Now, tell me what other commission you have for me." " I only came to say good-bye, Allen. You will be away a whole week, you know." " A whole week ! Is it possible, Julie ? Well, so I shall ; but I think the memory of my pale little sister at home will survive it." " And will you remember something else ? " Julie asked rather bashfully ; " something we talked of last night, Allen." He laughed, and pulled her to him, taking his pocket-book at the same time from his coat. " Look here, pet : — Mem. — a piano — Marshall's. There, will that satisfy you ? " " Oh yes ! I'm so glad ! " and Julie kissed liim again and again. He returned with affection her caresses ; but at length arose, saying, " This won't do, pet ; I must be off; tlie drays started hours ago. There ; you may stand at the door and see me start, and then run to bed again." To bed and to sleep ; but her sleep was full of dreams : Allen formed a considerable portion of them ; her governess and the beloved piano came in fre- quently enough. But she slept and dreamt on to a rather late hour that morning. Her secret burned within her, but she did not betray it. 9 CHAPTER IX. LOST IN THE OULLT. " Foster the pood, and thon shall tend the flower Already sown on earth t Foster the beautiful, and every hour Thou caU'st new flowers to birth." Dats and nights must pass away, many and long, before the arrival of Allen and his treasures, thought Julie with a sigh as she awoke next morning ; but that they tvould pass, however slowly, was an un- speakable comfort. Then the joy of anticipation was something: tlie surprise that would await the home- stead folks when the first notes of the piano sounded ; Miss Herbert's glow of pleasure as her fingers again renewed acquaintance with the keys of the instrument ; Bessie's wild delight ; Alf's teasing laugh, — aU this formed a portion of Julie's anticipations, and many a time she was obliged to run out of the room to conceal the gladness which would otherwise have betrayed itself. "What is the matter with that girl?" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, after one of those joyous paroxysms had compelled her exit. " You may depend Allen has something to do with LOST IN THE GULLT. 67 it, mother," said Alf. " I never knew him go to Adelaide without a commission of some sort from Julie. He's wild about that girl ! " " I do not wonder at it," said Marian ; *' a very gweet girl I think she is. She is very fond of him besides." " Bess is more to my taste. There is no nonsense in her. She's as wild as a young horse ; wants k pretty good hard bit, too — not very tender-mouthed." " Bessie is a dear little girl, but not to be compared with her sister," said Marian, warmly. " Bessie is all nature — lovely nature, certainly — but there is some- thing spiritual in Julie." Alf dropped the axe-head to which he was neatly affixing a new handle. With a bang it fell to the floor, and he suddenly faced round upon the young lady. " That's it — that's it ; that's the very thing, I suppose. My coarser nature can find no fellowship with the finer texture of spirit. Come to think of it," he exclaimed, affecting to muse, " there is a very spiritual look about that fair, thin, white face." " With its blue veins, Alf," returned Marian, gravely, as she saw Mrs. Bm-ton pass out of hearing. " That term you are quizzing may have more meanings thaa one. I often fear our Julie will in reality be only spirit ere long." *' Ha ! ha ! now, Miss Herbert, I did not think you were so romantic." " I am perfectly serious, I can assure you, on such A subject I do not like to say so to your mother, y 2 68 LOST IN THE GULLY. but I am sure Julie ought to go to Adelaide and have medical advice." " You don't say so ! " said A.lf, beginning to look grave ; " why, I don't see much the matter with her. She's not over-strong, and rather thin, — spiritual as you call it," he replied, relapsing into merriment. " Now, Miss Herbert," he exclaimed, " confess for or.ce that you are encouraging fear." And he coolly lifted the axe-head from the floor, and gave a succession of such deafening blows, as though purposely to preclude the possibility of answering. But Marian saw, beneath all, a deep under-current of feeling he was doing his best to conceal. Marian and the two girls were seated at lessons in the school-room very diligently one lovely afternoon nearly a week after Allen's departure, when Mi's. Burton came, and opening the door, looked good- humouredly in upon them. " Are you for a walk this afternoon, Miss Herbert?" she asked, smilingly. " I have been putting up a few little niceties for the poor man who was so badly hurt with the dray-wheel the other day ; I hear he is still very weak and ill, and he might fancy something coming unexpectedly. Sick folk usually do." " Oh, I should hke it very much, dear Mrs. Burton," said Marian, springing up, " but I am afraid I shall never find the way. He is on Ales. Turner's section, is he not ? " " Yes ; he and his wife rt^ork for Turner, and live in one of his huts. Poor fellow, I am very doubtfiu LOST IN THE GULLt. 09 wheViKT he will ever work again. But I did not iiii/:in you to go alone, Miss Herbert — Julie knows tlit; wav ■ — don't you, darling ? " " Yes, motlier. I have been twice to Turner's ; once round the road, and once across sections." " Well, you bad better go round the road, then, for creeping under fences will shake all the jelly to shivers. You can't miss your way — it's as clear us daylight ; and you will be back before sunset." " Then come, Julie, let us get on our hats at once. Is Bessie to go, Mrs. Burton ? " " No ; I want Bessie. Donald Melrose's wife hns j st come in, and brought her little Maggie; besides, you 11 have plenty of trouble with the basket, without her.'' Neither Marian nor Julie seemed to think much of the trouble. It was just one of those pleasant days which often occiu" in the very middle of an Australian summer, after the floodgates of heaven have been opened, causing the arid soil to sing in gladness, and little timid flowers, here and there, to put forth their modest blossoms. Here and there, too, a green patch of herbage caused an uplifting of joy in Marian's heart. To her spiiitual perception it spoke of the revivification of love and hope and faith in the soul, after the gentle dew from on high had de- scended ; of those sweet fruits of the Spirit which modestly peep into view when Jesus has been near with His loving influence, as " dew on the tender herb." Marian remembered the beautiful words of Scripture as the grass was lightly pressed by her feet. 70 LOST IN THE GULLY. But the promise was not for a temporal, but a spi- ritual blessing. How she rejoiced that it was so, and how often in her own experience had she found the promise fulfilled ! Their way led them round the road ; but the road was little more than a dray-track, on one side of which a continuation of hilly ranges abruptly rose, and on the other, scrub and wattles and massive gums falling back from the wheel tracks for many a weary mile. The sun came not too hotly upon them as they walked, for the hill and branches sent forth the cool shadow, and the soft breeze wandered up and down through the wattles, and whispered mysteriously in the weird she-oak leaves, and in and out among the tea-tree bushes. Through a bed of the vei-y greenest, freshest water-cresses, a slender creek ran murmuring along their pathway, now and then widening, and over- shadowed by branches, sending forth from its dark water the bul-bul of the great bull-frog, as a bass to its own silver treble. '* How much I Hke those deep-mouthed notes issu- ing from the dark, weedy waters," said Marian, pausing on a little rude bridge of logs which had been thrown across the creek for the convenience of drays. They were on the borders of Turner's section. They knelt down together on the rough logs, and looked into the quiet waters. The fresh cress grew on either side luxuriantly, but wilder herbage was mingled with it beneath the bridge, and thither the frogs took refuge, und croaked at pleasure. LOST IN THE GULLT. 71 " Hark ! one — two — three — four of those full bell- like notes," said Marian, " all in time, regular, and musical. Have you ever thought of tliat before, Julie? music in the croak of a frog ? " Julie laughed a glad little laugh, for the word music brought back the recollection of Allen's near return and its consequences, but she had never associated the croak of a frog and melody together in all her life before. " You do not think it musical ? " said Marian, re- turning the laugh. " Nay, Juhe, only hsten, Bui ! bul ! bul ! bul ! like deep-toned bells ; and that murmuring, rippling water is whispering another quiet song. Oh, it is very sweet ; do listen ! " " I have never thought of it before," said Julie. " I once read that a ' heart in right tune can find music everywhere,'" said Marian, thoughtfully. " What should you imagine was meant by a heart in right tune, Julie ? " Julie thought a moment, and then half-hesitatingly replied, " Is it a contented, happy heart, a heart pleased with everything, that is meant ? " " By no means a bad definition, dear Julie, though I believe the author of the sentiment went even farther than this. He was comparing the heart of man to a harp. The strings of that instrument are extremely liable to become out of tune. Weather has great influence upon them ; a slight accident may jar and produce discord ; but rightly tuned and skilfully played, the melody is very sweet. Very much like ?2 LOST IN THE GULLV. the heart, dear Julie, and its feelings and thoughts and actions ; those delicate strings which yield little but discord till a heavenly influence has passed over them." Julie turned her soft, blue eyes wistfully to the face of her young governess. She was quick of apprehension ; she began to understand the com- parison. " I think I have read something like this in a little hymn-book you lent me," she at last said — " strange, that a harp of thousand strings Should keep in time so Ions." " Yes ; that is Dr. "VVatts's. There he refers to the heart as the seat of life and health. The heart has innumerable vessels connected with it from which the blood flows to every part of the body : these vessels he compares to the strings of a harp. He is taking it in a more literal sense than the other author, Julie. It is of the mind — the understanding — the soul, the first is thinking, when he talks of the heart being rightly attuned ; and it is the soul under the influence of God's Spirit he alone considers so. Naturally you know, Julie, every heart is out of tune, for the Bible tells us that the ' heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.' Have you not read this, Julie ? " It was a faintly whispered " Yes," in reply, and her blue eyes were now swimming ^nth tears. " ' Deceitful and desperately wicked,' " repeated LOST IN THE GTJLLT. 78 Marian, half musingly, " but little harmony there — discord, terrible discord ! and this to arise to the ear of a great and holy God ! Have you never thought of this, Julie dearest ? " " Sometimes — lately," was the half-choked whis- per. Marian tightened her clasp of her young com- panion's hand, and they walked on some way in silence. She could scarcely command her own voice, and the little hand she held quivered and trembled sadly. " Ah! full of discord, indeed ! " she continued with a sigh, after the silent interval. " All discordant, but not past tuning, dearest, not past tuning. ' The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin.' It is the ap- plication of that blood which restores the harmony. When the soul feels that that blood has been applied, then steal forth the notes of melody. All is melodious then ; nature has new charms, there is a new fountain of happiness opened — ' the love of Christ that passeth all understanding.' Do you understand anything of this, Julie ? " " I think I do," was the softly spoken reply. They were almost in sight of the house to which they were going, a bush-fence alone divided them from it ; but Marian was earnestly interested and hopeful in her pupil. She put her arms round h^r, and kissing her fondly, exclaimed, " And what is the state of my dear Julie's heart, discord or harmony ? Is love to God attuning its strings, or is it still discordant with hatred ? Harmony or discord, dearest 74 L09T IN THE GTJLLT. Julie ? There is no middle state — one or the other must exist." The slight frame shook and quivered wich excite- ment, the eyes filled more and more with tears, the voice was almost choked with sobs as she answered, " O Miss Herbert, it seems to me all discord. But I want, oh I do want to love God. I do want to feel that He loves me ! " Marian's own tears welled up from her earnest, loving eyes. She clasped her little pupil closer to her. " Thoughts and wishes and prayers of harmony, my dai-Hng ; sweet tokens of the breath of the Holy Spirit upon the strings ; for, never from the desperately wicked heart alone could even a wisJi for the love of Christ arise." They stood a little while quietly recovering them- selves before entering the house, and then creep- ing through a hole in the bush-fence, walked slowly towards the hut where the sick man lay ; such a hut as no one in the home country would think of consigning his horse to, but in which a whole family contrived to live very much to their own satisfaction, in plenty, if not in comfort. It made no kind of difference that a rude stable closely ad- joined the sleeping apartment, spreading its aroma powerfully through the place ; that the walls were of rough slabs, with their crevices stopped by a mixture of clay and chopped straw ; that the apertures in- tended for windows, were covered with calico, instead of glass ; and that even at the open door two or three LOST IN tSE GUtLT. 76 pigs wandered at will, and a whole bevy of barn-door fowls had to be chased away before Marian and Julie could enter. But when they had entered, in spite of the rude exterior, things wore a little better aspect. The settles were chiefly of home manufacture, but there were one or two very good cedar chairs and a polished table of large dimensions. In one comer of the room, near a large gaping chimney, stood an easy- chair, a recent purchase, covered with chintz, which at least told of no lack of means. In this chair the invaUd was seated. Had he been in health, he would certainly have looked out of place in it ; but now sickness had given a pallor to his cheek and a languor to bis athletic frame, that made it a little more in keeping with the luxury; and his clothes, though rough, were scrupulously clean, for he possessed a truly in- dustrious and cleanly wife, who came forward to meet the visitors with a very gratified countenance, and gave them a profusion of thanks. Fresh home-brewed beer foaming from the bottle, and home-made bread and butter were instantly placed before them, and regardless of all they could say, they were obliged to sit down and partake of the hospitality and chat a while, though Marian from time to time cast many anxious glances at the fading sunbeams. ** Now we really must go," she at last exclaimed, jumping up. " We shall scarcely get back by dark if we go round the road." " Did you come round the road, miss ? " said the ?6 tOST IN THE OULLT. woman in a tone of surprise ; "it's only half the distance cross sections." " Is it easy to find the way ? " asked Marian, rather concernedly. " Oh law ! yes, ma'am ! Why, Miss Burton knows the way, I think." " Yes," said Julie, " I know the way. I came once before, you know. Besides, we have nothing in the basket now, and you do not mind creeping under the fences, do you, Miss Herbert ? " *' I am not ver^' fond of it, Julie ; hut as you say, I don't mind particularly wlien the way is shortened by it, and it is late already, that is an object." " I'll see you across the paddock, miss ; I would come farther, only for my man, he's no one just now to stay with him." " Oh pray do not come at all," said Marian ; but that was not to be thought of, and the three started across the paddock. "Now, miss," said the woman, leaning on the fence at the other side, and pointing to a narrow foot-track in the grass, winding through a vista of trees, " keep right away along this here track, till you come to the next fence ; you must then leave it and go past the fallen gum to your left to the next fence ; then you will come to three or four tracks all leading dif- ferent ways : just take the middle one, and that'll bring you right home." "Oh yes! — I know the way, Mrs. Payton," snid Julie, confidently. And with renewed farewells, and LOST IN THE GULLT 77 thanks, and professions of hope for the invalid's speedy recovery, they parted; Marian and Juhe briskly pursuing the slender pathway, and cheerfully chatting as they went, " Now we are to leave this track," said Marian, as they crept under the first fence with some little dif- ficulty, for crinoline and muslin Avere never contem- plated when the fence was made. They tlien stood a moment, looking round tliem, rather puzzled. " Ah ! there it is I — all right. Miss Herbert ! " cried Julie, triumphantly, " this is the fallen gum, and this is the track. We arc right again ;'' and on they went, swinging the empty glasses. Julie talking of next spring flowers, and Marian pleasantly joining with words or smiles, as they carelessly traced the path and arrived at the second fence, creeping under as before. " The middle patli," said Marian, looking very mystified ; " Mrs. Payton said there was three, but here are four paths, Julie. How shall we know the right one now ? Can we have come wrong ? " " Oh no ! I remember the way exactly, I am sure we have come right so far ! " said Julie, earnestly. She looked searchingly round her. " There used only to be three paths, I know," she continued half to herself; "this must bee new one and this one must lead home." *' They are all so alike to me, I can scarcely see anv difference," said Marian, rather uneasily ; " certainly that dray-track is rather fresh-looking." 78 LOST IN THE GTJLLT. " Yes," said Julie, eagerly ; " and I think this broad one must be the right. Oh, it is, I know — I remember that tree with its strange, white, crooked trunk. Oh yes ! all right. Miss Herbert, come on ! " and she went a few steps forward in her haste to see further proofs of her assertion, for her mind a little misgave her. " We must indeed make haste," said Marian ; " sec, the sun is leaving the tree tops. We stayed too long at Mrs. Pay ton's. What now, Julie! are we not right? " For the poor girl had stopped suddenly and looked round in distress. " I've quite forgotten the way. It don't seem right a bit, Miss Herbert ! What shall we do ? " " I do not know, I'm sure, dear. We should have gone round the road ; but now we are here we must do our best to find the way," replied Marian cheer- fully. " What makes you think this is the wrong track?" " We ought to have crossed part of the creek by this. Oh dear! oh dear! let us go back." " Why, Julie ! I thought you were a braver bush- woman," said Marian. " We will go back and trj another path. I dare say the next will be right." They hurried back and turned into the next most promising, and pursued it some distance as fast as they could, for the sun had set and the shadows were deepen- ing every moment. " Are you sure about the creek, Julie ? " said J^ariau, aftei' a little while, and no appearance of it, LOST IN TnE GULLY. 79 " Yes, quite sure," said Julie, turning her eyes, now fast filling with tears, on her companion. " Thia cannot be the right wa}'." " Oh well, never mind ; we will go back and try the next path," replied Marian, affecting a cheerful- ness, for Julie's sake, which was in reality very foreign to her feelings. To spend a night amongst the opos- sums and wattles was beyond the very utmost stretch of her romance, and the dread of encountering wan- dering cattle was uppermost in her mind. So she placed one arm round the abeady trembhng girl and hurried back once more. They reached the first spot again in safety, but the darkness was coming on rapidly and there was no moon. They had to stoop down to find the track at all, and it was with a beating heart that Marian again turned for the new adventure. " If Allen was only at home," she thought, " or even Alf," and Julie expressed the thought in words, " Oh how I wish I could hear Allen's whistle or even Alfs cooey ! " " I wish so too. Perhaps Alf will be home by this time." " And mother will send him out ! " said Julie^ almost joyfully ; and in the strength of that hope they hurried on and on, but no creek passed across their way. Marian felt sick and weary ; on every side imong the bushes were the, to her, terrible cattle-bells — and once or twice, peering through the trees close to her, were the glaring eyeballs of the startled animalg. 60 LOST EN THE GULLY. Her breath came rapidly, and the voice with which she attempted to cheer the terrified Julie was low and husky. " We are wrong, quite wrong, dear Miss Herbert, I am sure about the creek, even if Mrs. Payton had not said so. This is not the way. We must go back again," she whispered beneath her breath. " We shall never find the way back, I fear," said Marian, in a low, desponding tone. But they turned again. " Ah, we are off the track ! " she exclaimed, as they suddenly came in contact with a brush-fence that stopped their way. " We cannot be far off a house then ! Oh I wish I could cooey! " and she tried, but failed. " I will try," said Marian, and she made an attempt — then another — growing louder as she continued ; and Julie gathering courage, alternated the cooey. " Hark ! What is that, Julie ? " " A more-porJc, T think.'' "There — there it is again ! Did you hear? That is not a more-porJcy " No ; it's Allen's whistle. Oh, I am so glad. Oh, I'll cooey again." And with a wild gladness she forgot fatigue, fright, and all, in the certainty that he would find them ; and her sweet full cooey rang out on the quiet night air. It was immediately answered by the same prolonged whistle, only much nearer, and ar. the same time by a loud cooey and a shout in another direction. LOST IN THE GULLY. 81 " That's Alf," said Julie ; and she threw her arms round Marian, and cried for very joy, looking up in her tears again to coocy once more. A moment after, and a horse was heard making his way through the scrub, and the next instant Allen was at their side, exclaiming as his sister sprang to his arms, — " Why, Julie, darling ! Miss Herbert ! how you have frightened us ! Thank God you are safe ! " " Halloo ! Here 3'ou are. Where in the world were you going? into the waterhole?" and Alf sprang towards them with a shout and laugh. UHAPTER X. riBESIDE CHAT. •' Ilappy the fireside student — happier still The social circle round the blazing hearth." Whethee to laugh or to cry at the exquisite sense of safety, succeeding so much tension of feeling, Marian scarcely knew more than her pupil. Her feelings had been of a deeper and more highly wrought nature, and the exertion of concealment had been with difficulty sustained, and now the revulsion was almost beyond her strength. She leaned heavily against a tree that stood close by, faint and almost breathless ; while Allen was busily engaged in placing Julie before Alf, who had now mounted Prince Charlie, intending first to deposit his sister at the sitting-room door, and then to take the horse to the stable. " And now," said Allen, after cautioning his bois- terous brother to ride slowly with his burden," if Miss Herbert will accept my arm, I think I can promise to lead her with perfect safety." He turned round hastily in alarm, for she did not answer, and for the first time he perceived her situation. " Miss Herbert ! Miss Marian ! you are not well j FIEE8IDB CHAT. 88 you have been very much frightened. Dear me! how very thoughtless ! Here, Alf, come back ! " But Alf had no such intention, he was half-way home already. His laugh came ringing back to his brother's ears. Marian's slight faintness, however, soon gave way to an hysterical burst of tears, which even more alarmed her companion for the moment, though it restored her. " I am very foolish," she said after a little, " but you must bear with me. You know it is only a few mouths since I came from London, and totally un- acquainted with country life." " Bear with you ! " said Allen, earnestly ; " I'm afraid you'll never forgive me for being so selfish in my love to my sister as to forget you, or rather, seem to forget you. I had no idea how fatigued and alarmed you were ; and now I have sent off the horse, — at least, Alf has chosen to ride off." " Oh, I am better ; I can walk well. Those foolish tears have relieved mej they are the safety-valves of a woman's feelings, you know, Mr. Allen. I shall be quite recovered after a cup of your dear mother's tea. I am afraid our misadventure must have occasioned you a great deal of fatigue. When did you return ? " " Just in time to find the whole household dis- turbed about you," replied Allen. " Alf was off already exploring, so I never dismounted till I saw you." G 2 84 FIEESIDE CHAT. " How kind of you ! I am sure I am very raucb obliged." " I am afraid I should have very much disobliged myself if I had not come, supremely selfish as the atlmit^sion is," returned Allen. " Do not be afraid to the me; pray lean on my arm. I cannot feel you at present, and keep fancying I have left you behind me." Marian laughed, and complied partly with his request, for she was really tired. " I don't exactly know — I can't understand where you ha've been, or how you were lost," continued Allen. " My mother seemed to imagine herself in fault, as being the moving agent in the business, I did not wait long to hear particulars ; I guessed at your probable destination from Bessie's exclamation about Turner's, but what in the name of fortune should take you there was beyond my power of com- prehension." " Many things happen in a week, Mr. Allen," said Marian, archly. " There's no knowing what might happen ; during the last few days, I might have gone altogether, instead of only losing myself," " I should hope not that," replied Allen, rather gravely. " I hoped — that is, we all hoped — you were becoming attached to the old homestead." " I only stated what might have occurred, not a probability, you know," said Marian. But Allen's gravity increasing, she changed the subject, and began to recount the afternoon's chapter of accidents in full, FIBESIDE CHAT. 86 rousing herself with some little difficulty, but vnih perfect success ; and they had reached home before either was aware of it. There the welcome was unanimous, though Marian had much quizzing to undergo at the expense of her bush experience. " My poor child," said Mrs. Burton, affectionately taking off her hat as she leaned back in the large chair to which Allen had led her, and kissing the pale cheeks with a tenderness which soon brought a bright bloom into them, " My poor child, we have been in sad trouble about you, both you and Julie ; and it was my fault, too, for sending you." " Oh, no, Mrs. Burton ; it was my presumption in crossing sections," laughed Marian. " It was only my fault," cried Julie, earnestly ; " I ought to have known better than to go a way I knew so little of," and the tears were coming into the blue eyes once more. " Your fault, pet ! " said her brother, coming behind her chair, and stroking down the soft hair from her brow ; " well, never mind it now. Have you nothing to say to me after this whole week of absence?" " Allen, yes, a hundred things ; I am so glad you are back, for one." "Then suppose, Julie, we defer hearing the ninety and nine till after tea. Have you any idea, darling, how hungry it is possible for a day's ride to make one? " 86 tIEESIDE CSAf, No one had had tea, late as it was, for no one dreamt of sitting down until the wanderers were re- Bloi-ed; and now the bright fire on the hearth — for the evening was chilly — the well-spread table, the refresh- ing tea, and cheerful circle of faces, were doubly- sweet. There was not one clouded countenance. To the mother, Allen's return was sufficiently pleasant ; to the squire, the fact of some very excellent sales of wheat having been effected, was quite agreeable enough to pour the sunshine on his broad brow ; and for Allen, Marian, and Julie, a sweet home-feeling was enjoyed by each to the full. Alf and Bessie carried sunshine with them wherever they went, each to be Bure in their own way ; so laughter and merriment were nothing new to them. A very pleasant evening it was to all parties, and passed rapidly away. Julie soon found time to whisper her question — that which of all others she was longing to ask — and she was made happy for the rest of the evening by the reply — " Yes, pet ; coming on the dray, so prepare your fingers." " How soon will it be here, dear Allen ? " *' Not soon enough to be unpacked to-night. Can you wait till to-morrow ? " Julie laughed, and hid her face on her brother's shoulder, but her joy was full that evening. " What is it you promised to bring for Julie ? " asked his mothei-, after the excitable girl had gone to bed. " She has been wild, I think, since you have been FIEESLDE CHAT. 87 gone ; laughing to herself, and skipping about, and telling none of us the reason." Allen smiled. " Forgive me, mother ; it in a little exclusive secret between Julie and me — time will unravel the mystery." " That's a comfort. I'm afraid you'll spoil the child though, and Miss Herbert is almost as bad," she continued, smiling at Marian. " Between you, Julie is a perfect pet." ^ Allen coloured, but appeared pleased with the vnion of their names. He said nothing, however, but simply turned and looked at Marian. Alf laughed. " What say you to the declaration of partnership. Miss Herbert?" he asked, miscliievously. "Do you plead guilty of the offence ?" " No," replied Marian, smiling and blushing ; " certainly not guilty of spoiling." " Only of the partnership ? " Marian made no answer. " Pray to what do you plead guilty, Mr. Alf? " asked his brother. " To a little second sight, that's all, Allen," was the provoking rejoinder : " you know coming events cast their shadows hefore,^^ and with a loud laugh he sprang up and left the room. There was an uncomfortable silence for a fewmmutea. Allen sat biting his lips and casting covert glances at the drooping head in his neighbourhood. There was a broad smile on Mr. Burton's face, which he strove to hide behind his newspaper j and his wife's knitting 8S FIEESIDB CHAt. needles rattled again. At length, taking compassion on the mutual embarrassment, which for a time he exceedingly enjoyed, he addressed a business question to Allen, and the conversation resumed its usual jBow. " The dray's coming, father," said Alf, re-entering the room about an hour after, just as Marian had risen to take her candle and retire. " Happy to hear it ; — proof that Black Jack has not fallen sick on the road, and needed his favourite remedy, hrandy,^' said the farmer drily. " Now are you not dying to know what's in your parcel. Miss H erbert ? " he asked, placing his broad hand on her shoulder, and looking merrily into her face, for she had put down her candle when Alf brought in the news. " Is it not a little too bad to have to wait till the morning for the news and the ribands ? " he inquired teasingly. " You will not have to do that, Miss Herbert, if you wait here a few minutes ; I have put your parcels where I can get them immediately ;" and Allen went out, followed by his father, whose face was most un- mistakable in its merriment. " Alf," said his father, after the unloading of part of the dray, while Allen had gone with the precious parcels into the sitting-room ; " Alf, when do you think the ploughing will be done?" Alf knew very well by the tone of voice that there was more in the question than met his ear. He replied in the same sort of tone, ** Another week will Enish it. Why?" PIEESIDE CHAT. 89 " Only that I think of revoking my former deter- mination. The stone carting may go on. It's high time we got the new house u])." "Oh, oh! The sJ/adoiv of the coming event!" laughed Alf ; " well /think so too." " It's rather reversing the hec-colonizing system for the old hees to turn out to make room for the young ones, but your mother has set her heart upon the new place." " But I say, father, I chink you are getting on a little too fast," said Alf, laughing. " Whatever we may think of Allen, we are by no means sure of the lady's inclinations. For instance, how do you know that she does not prefer me ? " " You — you ! Well, these colonial lads ! No — no ; wait till your whiskers grow before you talk of pre- ferences. Humph ! for the matter of that, I was no older myself, and more of n stripling, when 1 first fell over head and ears in love." CHAPTER XI. MUSIC IN THE BUSH, " Like some wild air Of distant mnsic, when we know not where Or whence the sounds are brought from." " MoRlTI^'G^ sleep is sweetest," says one ; " morning dreams always come true," another proverbially ex- claims. And certainly Marian enjoyed a very plea- sant sleep, and a great deal of reality stole into her dreams, even after the sun had risen, and her usual hour for repose had passed. She had read a long, diamond-crossed letter from her cousin Isabella, and a short, brief, pithy note from William, before closing her eyes ; each had something of importance to say, the former a great deal about Allen ; and as the remarks were highly favourable, it was no wonder that the young farmer occupied a considerable portion of her dreams. Reality and fiction entangled them- selves together in interminable confusion. We are no dream-tellers, and by no means intend to inflict upon our gentle reader the various phases assumed their entanglement, only par parenthese, premis- that there was a happy termination to all ; also, MUSIC IN tse Btjsa. dl that towards the end of that dreamy sleep thera were sweet sounds mingling with the dream, stealing softly over her senses, and one by one unlocking them. She awoke at length, with a smile upon her lips, and the music still trembling in her ear and memory. And yet, was it a dream ? No. She was awake now, seated on her bed. The sounds were real then, and had woven themselves in her dream. But whence could they come ? There was no regular strain ; and as she listened, combinations of harmony, evidently , accidental, came now and then from the keys of a piano. " A piano ! Oh," thought Marian, " Julie's joy is interpreted now. The sly little puss ; I believe half her pleasure consisted in the thought of the gratifi- cation it would afford me. How quietly, too, Mr. Burton has managed to elude suspicion, and keep his secret." Mr. Burton indeed! But it was Mr. Burton, junior, whose secret it was. Marian opened the door of her room, and Julie sprang in and ran towards her, flushed with excitement and joy. " Miss Herbert, did you hear it ? Oh, do come and look ; isn't it a beauty ? " " It is indeed, dear Julie," said Marian, advanc- ing into the little study, one side of which was occupied by a pretty cottage piano, " quite an addi- tion to the furniture of the room." She ran her fingers across the keys to Julie's intense delight. 92 MUSIC TS tht: buss. The sweetness and fulness of its tone pleased her much. " Well, Julie, it is a beautiful instrument ! " she exclaimed, sounding several chords in succession, and testing its full powers and depth of tone. " I am sure 3^ou ought to show your sense of your father's kind- ness by taking great pains to learn." " Oh, but father has nothing to do with this. It is only Allen. He bought it with his own money. It is his, Miss Herbert ; but he says he has lent it to you and to me as long as ever you like." " Your brother, is it ? " said Marian, colouring with surprise. " He certainly shows both taste and kindness." " Oh, he is always kind. If I had asked father, he would only have laughed at me, and said the churn was the best music, as he always does. But Allen — there, I had only to tell him how fond of music you were, and what lots of music you had " " Not lots, dear Julie ; have you no better word ? " interrupted Marian, glad to shelter herself behind her profession at the moment. " How much music you had," said Julie, correct- ing herself, " and he said he would get a piano directly." " You have a kind brother, Julie ; he is very anxious for your improvement," Marian managed to say, still running over the keys. " Where is he now r " Oh, he's gone to the township after the other MUSIC IN THE BTJSH. 93 drays. Black Jack and Tom helped him to take the piano out of its case, and bring it here before any one was up, for he had to go early." In truth he had made a special errand to the town- ship in order to be out of the way of his father's and brother's bantering ; an errand which he knew very well would detain him all the day, and he hoped a Uttle of the novelty would be worn oflF before his return. He was also a little nervous respecting Marian's opinion of his purchase, and had resolved to hear it first from Julie, for which purpose he had commissioned her to watch for his return towards tea- time, at the slip-panel. Mrs. Burton was both proud and pleased with the addition to the homestead. It was almost difficult to say which feeling predominated. Certainly it added not a little to her pride, that the action belonged so entirely to the son after her own heart, her own English-born, partly English-educated, Allen. Allen and Julie were to her the connecting links between refinement and that coarse vulgarity which had leen in the homestead, and which ivas in her colonial asso- ciations. The first sounds from the keys of the new piano sent thrilling home-memories to her heart — memories long buried, yet surviving still. She was a girl again — a merry, light-hearted girl, dancing to her sister's music, or singing low, soft songs to i1s sweet accompaniment. What years had passed since then, and how changed was she who then pang ! She turned away to hide the tears that cam© 94 MT7SIC IN THE BUSH. with the memory, and yet that memory was not bitter. As to Allen's dread of banter from his father ani brother, it was by no means exaggerated. It was VTcW he was not there to witness the first explosion. As it was, the peal after peal of laughter that burst from the tormentors, very niuch disconcerted poor Marian, She thought it a very novel way of wel- coming the pretty plaintive air she played, and dlie rose from the piano with somewhat heightened colour. Alf, notwithstanding his merriment at the brother's expense, was not a whit less pleased. He was fond of nmsic, and could with difficulty tear himself away from its sounds. " I wonder what put it into his head ! I don't believe I could have dreamt of such a thing as bring- ing a piano up into the bush, if I had tried ever so much," thought Alf. " Well, missus, the new house may go up now," exclaimed Mr. Bm-ton after one more prolonged laugh than usual. " I'm very glad to hear it," said Mrs. Burton, a little sarcastically, for she felt rather scandalized by the excessive, and to her, unaccountable mirth of her husband and Alf. " I'm happy to hoar it ; if all your laughs prove as productive, you may laugh on, though what you find to laugh about this morning goodness knows." '.you jjnow, missus, as Alf says, ' Coming events MUSIC IN THE BUSH. 98 cast their shadows before,' " and with another burst of laughter they went off to their work. The day wore away as usual, the customary studies were pursued, the various little domestic duties at- tended to with precision, no particular extravagances were perpetrated, for Julie testified her joyous feel- ing very quietly by an occasional smile, and now and then a clasp of Marian's hand. But the day wore away on the whole very pleasantly. There was one little half-hour of intense excitement for Julie, when the music-book was brought out from Marian's store, and she received her first lesson. Her hands trembled so excessively that they in reality -fluttered over the keys, and the first sound following the pi-essure of her fingers absolutely made her start from her seat. But, as we have said, the day wore away, and the evening's shadow came on ; and mindful of her pro- mise, Julie noiselessly took her bonnet, crept un- observed from the house, running swiftly along the dray -track to the slip-panel, stopping every now and then to recover breath and listen for Prince Charlie's footsteps. Having reached it, she stood leaning on the fence, peering eagerly into the growing dusk for her expected brother. The night was still and dark, yet there was enough of murky light to render the surrounding objects dimly visible, and to invest them with a fantastic and sometimes startling appearance. The over-wrought feelings of Julie, bush-maiden though she was, caused her to feel a certain degree of timidity ; and she gav9 96 MUSIC IN THE BUSH. an involuntary start at beholding a tall white figure, stretching its arms towards her ; but she smiled as she remembered it was but an old and time-bleached tree. Now, of course, her feelings were very different from those of the previous night — here she was ab home, and had so often waited and watched by ohe old slip-panel that she could have easily found her way to it blindfolded. Still she could not help think- ing of the troubles of that dark wandering in the bush, of the pleasant afternoon's walk, of the con- versation — and Julie sighed deeply as she wished her heart might breathe only naelody, like a well-tuned instrument. She little knew how engrossing her thoughts had proved, or how audibly her sigh had been expressed, and she uttered a slight scream and started violently as she felt her face suddenly covered by her brother's well-known hands, while he exclaimed, — " Why, Julie, are you asleep ? What were you dreaming of, and why such a sigh ? " " I was not sleeping ; I was thinking, Allen," re- plied Julie, gravely, quite recovered from her fright. " Thinking — and of whom ? " " Of myself, partly, and of yo?«." " Of me ? and do thoughts of me cause sighs, Julie? Surely then. Miss Herbert cannot be pleased with the purchase ; or father " "Oh no, Allen. I am sure Miss Herbert is V' ry pleased ; she does like the piano so much. She wa^ ^0 surprised, and says it is such a beauty.''' MUSIC IN THE BUSH. 97 " Oh, she does like it, then ? " said Allen, with a glow of pleasure. " Oh yes, I am quite sure ; and do you know, Allen, I have really taken my first lesson ; oh, it is so heau- tiful ! I am so very glad ! " " Are you ? So am I ; but, by the bye, Juhe, this is rather a ditFerent frame of mind to that I found you in. I was quite prepared to hear my taste in choosing the piano pronounced decidedly bad after that heavy sigh." " Oh, were you ? I did not know I sighed. But at any rate, it was not for that, I am sure," said Julie ; " Miss Herbert said you showed very good taste." " Much obliged to you and to her, Julie. Well — but wliat say father and Alf ? " " Oh, they have got over their laughing now, Allen. How very silly Alf is, though !" Her brother made no answer, but quickened his footsteps a little. By this time they were nearing the house, and instead of walking towards the sitting- room, he went round the other side, stiU holding Julie's hand, and presently they stood together beside the study window. Allen placed his finger on his lips, and di-ew on one side a little, so that he could gee within. Did he regret his purchase when he heard that low, sweet melody from its keys ? Rather did he not rejoice that he had an opportunity of giving such pleasure, to Julie more especially — of course? No doubt it was a secondary matter that the little graceful hands within lingered so lovingly B. 98 liUSIC IN TUE BUSH. on the keys, now dancing, literally dancing along in wild gaiety, now hanging over the notes as though afraid to lose the melody. That had nothing at all to do ■with his rejoicing — oh no I CHAPTER XII, CHINTZ AND TACKS, "The very instanl thai 1 saw you, did My heart fly to your service; there residet To make me slave to it ; and foi yoin sake Am I this patient log man." Like all other aflFairs in tlii? strange wcild of ours, the novelty of the piano subsided, and the nine days' wonder having ceased, Mr, Btu'ton's and Alf's tor- menting banter was quickly over also. At last by common request the door of the sitting-room com- municating with the study was thrown open every evening, and Marian's playing was a source of great pleasure to all through the winter. As to Alf, as if to make amends for his formeT laughter, the moment his brother conveyed a hint that it was too cold for Miss Herbert to play in a room without a fire, he obtained permission of his father, and with the as- sistance of one of the men, soon built up a comfort- able hearth and chimney ; and henceforth took upon himself the task of seeing that a bright fire glowed every evening upon the hearth. Allen, on returning from one of his excursions to the township, brought A large parcel back with him across his saddle, and H 2 100 CHINTZ AND TACKS. threw it on the sitting-room table. Only the ladies of the house were present. " What on earth have you there ? " cried his mother in astonishment. " A draper's parcel ?" Allen smiled, and quietly untied the string ; turned the brown paper slowly aside, and unrolled a quantity of striped chintz and binding to match. " Chintz, I declare ! " It was all liis mother could exclaim in her surprise. " Oh, how pretty ! " exclaimed Marian and Julie together. "What is it for?" cried Bessie climbing up by her brother's side, and smoothing down the shining folds with very admiring little hands. " Why, Allen, is this for bed-curtains ? Do you feel a draught to your head at night ? " asked his mother, finding words. '* No, mother," replied Allen, laughing and colouring. " Well, I suppose I may as well tell you, for I am going to work immediately ; this is intended instead of paper. I am going to clothe the study walls." " Fiddlesticks ! What a waste ! How extravagant you are getting, Allen ! " " Oh no, Mrs. Burton — not extravagant ; what a pretty idea! " said Marian. " How very pleasant it will be to study in our room, Julie ! " AUen turned from his mother with a quick glance of pleasure. What she had said was as nothing then ; the last words had entirely effaced the effects of the first. CHINTZ AIJD TACKS. 101 " Then will you give me your advice and assist- ance, Miss Herbert, in the performance ? for I am not sure of acquitting myself well in my new voca- tion." " Most certainly — with great pleasure," and Marian folded up the muslin she was working, and instantly arose, while Allen produced from his pocket a paper of tacks, and followed by Julie and Bessie, entered the room. " How very nice it will be ! " baid Marian, in a very pleased tone of voice, after the first few tacks had been put in, leaving the chintz depending from the ceiling to the ground. " I am afraid the old sitting- room will bo sadly deserted." " It will, at any rate, correspond a little better with the piano," replied Allen. " I must acknowledge that the unplastered walls looked rather unsuited to its polished wood and rich blue silk." He glanced ap- provingly at his work, which proceeded rapidly under his hands and Marian's supervision. " I bought enough, I think. Miss Herbert, for cushions to the couch and sofa, if you and Julie will make them ; I know where there are plenty of feathers." " Mother is saving those for a bed, Allen." Allen laughed. " Well, Julie, what then ? Don't you think she will give them to me ? " " I dare say," said Julie, doubtfully. " We will make the cushions then," said Marian smiling. " We shall have quite a pretty boudoir, and 102 CHINTZ AND TACKS. the next thing we shall want will be a stand foT flowers, to complete " " Yes ; and, Miss Herbert, you know what you said the other day — a nice garden, a flower-garden, from here down to the creek." Marian coloured and laughed. " You must not betray all my wishes and fancies," she said gently ; " I only observed how pretty it would look, that was all." All or not, Allen quickly got down from tlie step- ladder, and, walking to the window, pulled aside the curtain and looked out. How beautiful they looked in that clear, full moonlight, that grassy slope, the creek beyond, and the rough she-oak hill above all ! He wondered he had never thought of a garden there before ; but was there not a new house building ? and all their thoughts of improvement were for that. Julie, as if she read his thoughts, had crept to his side, and now laying her hand on his arm, whis- pered, — " The new house will be a long while building, Allen ; why could we not have a garden here ? If this is to be your house, won't you want it to be pretty?" " I don't know, Julie. Why, do you think it pos- eible of being made pretty ? " " Yes ; and so does Miss Herbert. Don't you ? I am sure I shall never like the stone house so well as this. Shall you ? " — and the appeal was accom- panied by an earnest glance into the face of her goTerness. chuttz and tacks. 103 " Speak for yourself, Julie," said her brother, rather gravely ; " Miss Plerbert does not shave in all your feelings." " lu this I do," replied Marian, rather embar- rassed. " I almost wonder at your father and mother wishing for another house when they already have this nice one — one, too, capable of so much improve- ment." "Do you think it is?" said Allen, eagerly. The old homestead was gaining new charms in his eyes, and he went back to his work with renewed pleasure, so that by tea-time the study walls were clothed. Mr. Burton and Alf enjoyed, as usual, their ma- sonic laughter that even\ng, as they discovered the newly-robed chamber. But they could not help acknowledging that, after all, Allen beat them " out and out " in taste and contrivance. " I fancy I should have thought of a good many things, Allen, before I thought of a petticoat for the walls," said the farmer, stretching himself at full length on the sofa that evening, preparatory to being played to sleep by Miss Herbert. " Well, Allen, that beats all!" cried Alf, in tanta.^ lizing admiration. " But I'd be bound, Miss Herbert, you put him up to the thing." " Indeed I did not, Mr. Alf. I cannot claim the merit, I'm sure." " Well then, you inspired him — that's the word, so it's all the same." 104 CSlNtZ AND TACKS. " I wish I could inspire you with a little common sense," said his brother. " Wouldn't pay, Allen ; I might prove too much for you," replied the provoking Alf, with a most impudent toss of his head towards Marian. CHAPTER XIII. BUILDING AND SPECULATING. "Hope is a lover's staff, walk hence with that. And manage it against despairing thoughts." The stone walls went up — not quite so rapidly as was intended, perhaps, but still steadily progressive. It was difficult in those days to meet with men of any building capacity, and labour was at a high pre- mium. But notwithstanding all difficulties, the new house went on, and the winter months quickly stole away. In the spring they expected to enter. One evening, a little before the tea hour, Allen and his brother Alf were slowly pacing the verandah which extended round the house. They were smoking and musing, and kept step by step together for a long time without speaking, a rather unusual thing for Alf; and it was he who at length bi'oke the silence, making a full stop outside the study window, and gazing down the slope. " This is certainly the most attractive part of the house, Allen," he exclaimed, laughing; "I vote to our limiting our walk to the boundary of its verandah. What was that you were speaking of the other day 106 BUILDING AND SPECDI-ATING. about a garden?" lie continued, finding his brother did not reply. " Why — that I should think it would be quite worth while to have a stone wall, — of course I mean loose stones, no mortar, — instead of a mere two-railed fence. I'm sure there are stones enough on the section, and they take no splitting." " And look better," said Alf ; " but there's a garden down at the other house ; we shan't want this," he added, drily. " A fruit-garden," replied Allen. " Oh, I understand ; you want a flower-garden here. But I say, Allen, what if you get ready your house and garden, and find no fair lady to put in it ?" Allen only quickened his footsteps by way of reply, but Alf could not be silent. " Well, I don't see but that the wall can be done. You are so very quiet over your affairs : maybe the fair lady is already engaged, and in that case, if the garden is to have any flowers this spring, we must set to work at once. There's not much farm work doing just now, I'll speak to father, and get one of the drays." " Oh, Miss Herbert ! " cried .Julie, running into bhe sitting-room, and throwing her arms round that young lady's waist, " I heard Allen and Alf talking just now by the study window, and they are really going to make a garden down the slope as you wanted. Alf is going to build the walls. I am so glad ! " " That will be an improvement, Julie," and Marian BtJILDlNQ AND SPECULATING. 107 coloured deeply as slie spoke. " Well, by-and-by you and I "will be able to offer our assistance. I have a large packet of seeds I brought from England, we can sow them, and then in spring, Julie, I can pro- mise you lovely flowers indeed. I like this house ; do not you ? " she continued, looking affectionately round the comfortable room as she spoke. " And with a garden, and that ugly stock-yard out of sight, what a pretty place it might be made! " " Yes," said Julie, musingly ; " I am almost sorry we have got the new house. It is so square and stiff after this, though of course it is better and finer." " You are something like me, Julie ; you would relinquish its finer appearance for the more graceful curves of this. Well, never mind, it will be some time before the HaU will be ready, and we can enjoy the garden meanwhile." Anything that Alf engaged to perform was done in the face of all impediments, and he had not a little to oppose him this time in his father's expostulations. " Really, Alf, you are as bad as Allen. Now what wild-goose chase are you after ? What is the use of making a garden down here? No ; let Allen and the girls set to work on the ground at the new place, if they want to garden. I can't spare time for foolery." " But I thought you said Allen was to have the old place," replied Alf, with a laugh in his eye, thouph not on his lip. " Well, so I did. Is he in so great a hurry that he muist begin his improvements before we are out?" iOa BUILDING ANB SPECULATING. "You know, father, a garden must have time to grow. Besides," he continued, Laughing, " Allen has taken such a liking to the old homestead, that I verily believe he intends to make a Bachelor's Hall of it, till — till something else happens." " I' faith, does he ? Well, he's such a strange, close fellow, I can make nothing out of him. Is he not more open with you ? Do you think he is after Migs Herbert?" " Not from anything he says. If he is thinking of her, I fancy he takes it too coolly. If it was me, at any rate, I should not act so." " How would you act ? " asked his father, with a quick twinkle of merriment in his eye, and knocking the ashes out of his pipe as he spoke. *' Make sure of my bird before I began to beautify its cage," replied Alf, turning away carelessly, and whistling a bar of that half-plaintive, half-defiant melody — " I care for nobody. Nobody cai'cs for me." But he took for granted that the work was to be done, and by evening had carted sufficient stone for the purpose, and built a long piece of the wall, from the creek, with the assistance of one of the men and his bi'other Frank, who chanced to be home for a holiday, and liked the "fun." Alf was not one to slumber over his work, what he undertook to do he liked to do quickly, and on the whole, his father did not repent the tacit consent he had given, when he BUILDING AND SPECULATING. 109 saw how little of his son's time it was likely to occupy. Besides, Allen's services were of too valuable a kind not to merit an occasional concession to his wishes. He retained, however, his own opinion re- specting the folly of the business, and was inclined to take the same view of the subject as Alf, respect, ing the propriety of paying more attention to the winning of the bird than the gilding of its cage. The question is, whether Allen would have thanked either for their opinion. "Come and look at the wall, and see what you think of it," cried Alf, entering the sitting-room next day, and oflFering his arm with comic gravity to Marian. " Not with that dirty jumper on, certainly," replied Marian, smiling and shrinking from the soiled sleeve and earth-covered hands. " What, do you disdain the dirt accumulated in your service ? " exclaimed Alf, turning away in appa- rent displeasure, but literally to hide the mischief of his intention. " In my service ? I don't know liow you can prove that, ~Av. Alf," replied Marian, crimsoning to the brow with vexation. Allen raised his eyes from the account with which he was occupied, and looked earnestly, though covertly, at the flushed face. " Surely you don't mind what that mad fellow says?" he quietly exclaimed, as his brother left tU« room uiiJ Marian rose to get her hat. 110 BUILDING AND SPECULATING. " Oil, no ! " she answered, tying the rose-coloured strings very tightly ; " I ought to know Alf pretty well now." But she did not say she minded a great deal more the question asked by Alfs brother, and felt far more inclined at that moment to shrink from the dark, spotless coat-sleeve that was oflfered to her than from the soiled jumper before presented. TVhy, she scarcely knew, excepting that there was some- thing in the look, something in the manner, some- thing in the tone in which this was said, undefinable enough, unpresuming enough, but cognizable to her delicate sense. " See what it is to have a presentable coat-sleeve," said Alf, with a mock-rueful glance at his own, as Allen sauntered up with Marian to the spot where he had resumed his work. " Well, Miss Marian, have you forgiven me ? " " Forgiven you ?" " Oh, don't pretend you have not been very angry, because I know you have ; but as I have been so un- happy as to give offence, have you forgiven me ? " " Oh yes ; since you admit offence intentional," replied Marian ; and Allen soon drew her away from his mischief-loving brother, to describe to her how he intended to divide and subdivide and serpentine the yet turfy ground, and to obf ain her advice ou the Bubject. CHAPTER XIV. A NOVEL FORD. •" Ort have I scon a sadden stonn arise From all tlio waiTing winds that sweep the s.l:iaB. With such a force the flying rack is driven. And such a winter wears the face of heaven I The lolly skioB at once come pouring down." " Who are those new neigbboui's I heard Alf telHnj^ your father about this morning after breakfast, JuHe ? " asked Miss Herbert of her pupil, as once more they started off together, early one afternoon, for a rather long walk on a mission for Mr. Burton. They were not afraid of losing themselves this time. Their way lay entirely along fenced roads, and not across sections ; it was a road, too, with which they were familiar, and excepting here and there, where pools of mud and water covered the road, rendering it rather a difficult matter to steer clear of their stains, it was pleasant and dry. " I do not know them," replied Juhe, " but I think Allen does. Their name is Clare j there is a large family of them up at the Burra, but there are only three of them here : the two eldest sons, and one of their sisters to keep house." 112 A NOVEL FOED. " But where is tlieir house ? since they are neigh- bours." " Three sections from this, I do believe we shall pass the very corner of their section, and shall per- haps get a glimpse of their house, for I think Alf said they had put it up not far from the corner. However, as Allen knows Edward Clare, we are very sure to see some of them soon, for near neighbours are so rare. Mother says it is a good thing to have " I wonder what Miss Clare is like," said Marian. " How dull she must be when her brothers are away at work!" " I think she is pretty, from what Alf said. I heard him talking about soft, brown eyes, and a small mouth, and a colour like a rose-leaf" " Indeed ! " laughed Marian. " Alf is getting quite romantic. Do you not wish very much to see this pretty young lady who has so taken Alf's fancy ?" " I should like to see her, and shall soon ; but as to her prettiness, we may not think her pretty. At any rate, Allen has seen her a great many times, and I have never heard him say she was pretty." A very conclusive argument with Julie, not quite so much with Marian. It was something, however, which seemed to afford food for the quiet meditation of each for a long distance on the road, for neither spoke, though now and then Julie's hand was pressed more closely on the arm she held. It was a pleasant afternoon, winter though it was. A NOVEL FOSD. 113 The sun shone out warmly and brightly ; so much so, indeed, that they were glad to remove their fur wrappers from their necks, and swing them on their arms. The grass, revived by the recent heavy rains, was of the freshest, gayest green, and here and there some of the earliest spring flowers were bending their blossoms to catch the breeze and bright sunshine. Glad were the two young ladies of their broad hats' shade, for that sunshine so eagerly absorbed by the flowers, looked down too hotly into their eyes and on their cheeks, dazzling and flushing with its cloudless beams. They were walking along very silently and very leisurely, when by one of those obstructions, hall mud, half water, their path was suddenly stopped. The bog extended from one side of the road to the other, and wandered off either way through young springing corn and lucern, so that there was little prospect of their finding a dry path on either side of the fence. They vainly walked backwards and for- wards in search of one spot better than another. " What can we do ? " said Marian, laughing. " It would be a pity to go back when wq are nearly at our journey's end." " Oh, we can mount the fence, and creep along so ;" and suiting the action to the word, Julie sprang upon the rail, and commenced a tottering walk. " I can show you a more agreeable way than that, if you will allow me, young ladies," said a gentlemanly voice behind them. I 114 A NOVEL FOED. Marian started and turned hastily round, and Julie sprang blushing from the fence, as the intruder, a young man dressed in a belted serge shirt and smaL oilskin cap, approached them from the other side of the road, leaping the fence by placing one hand on the top rail as he came. He raised his cap as he approached them, and looked inquisitively at Julie, and rather longer at her companion, and repeated his former offer. Marian thanked him, rather wondering how he could make good his word. Her look seemed to say as much, for he smiled and turned again to the fence he had leaped ; presently he came back with two or three long pieces of bark, which he busied himself in forming into a very passable bridge over the narrowest part of the slough. They crossed in perfect safety in a moment, and again united in thanks for the stranger's politeness. He again bowed, and turned his gaze on Julio's fair face, as though there was something he recognized there. " I think," he said after a moment of hesitation, " that it is Mr. Allen Burton's sister I have t!ie pleasure of speaking to ? " Julie coloured and bowed. " Will you tell him then, from me, Miss Julie, that when he has any leisure time to spare, an old friend, lately come into the neighbourhood, will be very glad to renew his acquaintance ? " Julie smiled her reply, and he continued gaily, — A NOTEL Ford. 115 "I need not speak for my sister, for I liave no doubt she will soon find an opportunity for herself; nevertheless, Miss Burton, I am sure Mary will be delighted to see you, and your friend too," he added, with another earnest look at Marian, and a little emphasis on the word friend, as though a gentle re- minder to Julie, that she had not introduced her. Julie did not heed it, however, and again raising his cap, he leaped the fence, and they pursued their way. " Edward Clare ! I knew it was, the moment I saw him," whispered Julie, as he left tlnm. " I thought so too. He was very polite. How do you think he knew you, Julie ? " *' Only because I am considered so like Allen ; and then meeting us here, you know, Miss Herbert. There are not so many young ladies in the bush, but that those there are may easily be found out." " That's it, is it ? " laughed Marian merrily. " So meeting two young ladies in these wilds, he thought he might easily find a Julie Burton in one of them." Julie laughed and blushed. " Do you know, dear Miss Herbert, this road leads to our homestead, and he must have known that," she said, half doubtful whether her governess was laughing at or with hir. *' Do you like him ? " she asked, after a moment's silence. " I am hardly prepared to answer that question yet, and particularly of a friend of your brother. It would be scarcely fair to judge him after so short a time. He was very polite." I 2 116 A NOVEL rOED. " Oh, you do not like him very much, I see ! ** said Julie, laughing slily, with a little of Alf'i mischief in her soft eyes, " and I am very glad, because " " Because what, Julie ? because you do ? " " No, no. Because I should not like you to like him better than poor Allen." Marian did not quite expect that reply, as the quick colour testified, but she only answered softly, — " Do you then think it possible for me to like only one at a time, Julie ? Are there not different kinds of excellence ? And are you very sure, Julie," she continued, rallying, and smiHng archly, " are you so very sure that your brother would like that epithet of ' poor Allen ' that you have given him, or that he would care so much as his sister, who liked or disliked him?" " I hope you ladies have not far to go," cried the same voice that before addressed them, now consider- ably in advance of them. They started, and looked about in vain, but could see nothing but trees before and on either side of them. It was from a cluster of wattles the sound seemed to come, and towards them accordingly they turned ; Julie with a very laughing face. " Ah, you may laugh. Miss Julie ! I can see you. ■ — Never trouble yourself to look for me." " Why do you hope we have not far to go, Mr. Clare ? " asked Julie, silently prompted by Marian. "Oh, you know my name, do you? and I only A NOVEL FOfiD. 117 know yonrs in return, and that you did not tell me : that's not fair, Miss Julie. Well, I hope you are not going far, because I see a storm brewing yonder, and if you are not very quick you will have it before you reach home." " Oh, thank you ! " cried Marian. " Come, Julie, we must waste no more time. Your father's message will not take long to deliver." And they set off at a rapid rate, which soon brought them in sight of the cottage they wanted. *' Who the dickens is she, I wonder ! " was the muttered exclamation of Edward Clare, as pushing aside the branches of a tree he had climbed, in order to fix a white flag to be drawn up and down, as a signal for meal-hours, or gruh-timc, as he termed it, he showed his good-looking face and cm'ly head, as rough as a carousal among the leaves and boughs could make it. " Well now, that's a little bit of Master Allen's slyness. To think of his having that young lady domesticated at home, as she evidently is by his sister's manner, and not so much as even mentioning her. Ah, ah ! Allen, my boy, we'll be even yet. Well, that's a pretty little creature, too^ that Julie. He has not praised her a whit too much. After all, it won't be so lonely here while the bush contains such rarfc meant." " Poor little girl!" said Julie, with tears in her eyes. "And did not he tell her?" "Yes, dear Julie, he told her of the Saviour, and of His love. He told her what praying was ; and then before he left in the morning, he promised her that on his return he would bring her a little present — a neckerchief — if she would promise to repeat a short prayer night and morning. The little prayer contained only four words, ' Lord, show me myself! ' " " And did she promise ? " asked Julie, eagerly. " Yes, dear. She promised very gladly ; and then the kind minister explained the meaning of the prayer, and how necessary it was that she should be able to see her own sinfulness, in order that she might discover her need of a Saviour. " I hope he remembered that poor little girl, and the promise he made," sighed Julie, as Miss Herbert paused. " He did, Julie ; but it was many weeks before he returned to the little inn. However, when he did come, one of the first he inquired after was the little scullery-maid. * Oh yes ;' was the reply, ' she is here, Bure enough, but little enough use she's been since you left. She's done nothing but cry night and day, and now she's so ill she cannot work at all,' ** * Let me see her ! let me see her I ' cried the A GENTLK NURSE. 131 minister, and a flush of joy came to his heart. He guessed what was the matter with the little girl, and believed that God had answered her prayer. They showed him a hole under the stairs, where the poor girl lay on a bod of straw, very ill. He took her by the hand. " ' Well, Peggy,' he said kindly, ' I have brought you the neckerchief I promised you. Here it is ! ' " ' Oh no, sir!' cried the poor girl, her eyes streaming with tears. ' Take back the neckerchief. I cannot take it. A dear gift it has proved to me. God has answered my prayer. He has shown me myself, and I am miserable ! " Very glad indeed was the minister to hear this account, and so he told the sick girl. ' I will now teach you,' said he, ' another little prayer, which you must also promise to repeat as before. It contains only four words, like the other ; but it will bring joy and peace with it. It is this, " Lord, show me Thyself! " It was, he kindly told her, a sight by faith of Jesus dying for her — bearing hor sin in His own person on the cross at Calvary — pleading in heaven for her. That — that alone could restore peace to her agitated bosom. For this sight she was to pray, and that simple prayer contained all she could desire. That he prayed with her and for her there can be no doubt, and then he once more went on his way." " Miss Herbert! did he never see her any more? " Julie's tears almost prevented her asking. " Years afterwards, dearest. She had bdcome a K 2 132 A GENTLE NUESE. woman, had married and had four children. She took a long journey to Edinburgh merely to see him once more. He did not remember lier, but she told him that she was the same little scullery-girl to whom he had once taught two short prayers. The last prayer had also been answered, and ever since that tmie she had been a sincere and happy Christian. " So you see, dear Julie, it is not for our much speak- ing our Father hears. Oh no. It is the believing prayer, however simple. He loves to answer; and this last little prayer will just suit you, love, who feel as though you wanted to know Jesus, that you may love Him ; 'Lord, show me Thyself, that I may learu to love Thee ! ' " She gently wiped away the fast falling tears, and soothed the trembling Julie with caresses. Then shaking up the pillow and administering a coohng draught, she drew the curtains and left her to sleep, for which her excitement had disposed her. Her own prayer?, were fervently added to Julie's that night, not only for the gentle girl, but for herself. CHAPTER XVI SOWING SEEDS. " I know by tu:it Rolilen wattle boni^h. That beautiful Spring ia coming now ; That the sun is dispelling old Winter's showers. And crowning the hill and creek with flowers. Oh dearer than ever will spring-tide be. For a Father's hand in His g^ifts I see." Neault a fortniglit's confinement in the house, and nearly the same time in her bed, were the consequence of Juhc's exposure to the storm. It did not pass off so wearily as might have been expected. Her gentle nurse never left her self-imposed task, never appeared tired of soothing or administering. Could the walls of that httle chamber have spoken, to how many sweet lessons would they have testified ! How much of Jesus, His love, His tenderness, would they have discovered issuing from the lips of the gentle teacher! How fervent were her low-breathed prayers by the sick girl's pillow ; how earnest and trusting was the voice in which the sacred page was read ! In that sick chamber Julie learnt much ; and, oh, higher, better than all other knowledge, she learnt to love her Saviour — she learnt to know Him as her Saviour. Between the pupil and her governess a new tie was 184 SOWING SEEDS. jBtablished — they were children of one Father, bound for the same haven of peace, travelHng the same road, understanding the same language. Julie could now bless the Hand that laid her low to raise her up to such happiness. And Marian's heart was overwhelmed with gratitude, that in bringing this one Iamb into the Saviour's fold, she, humble as she felt herself to be> had been honoured as an instrument. She had, indeed, been "sowing seeds," but little had she thought how soon they would spring up and bear fruit to everlasting life. She watched the young plant affectionately, prayerfully, it may be anxiously ; that no frost might nip the blossom, that no storm might bend or break, oh, how earnestly she prayed ! Yet what had she done after all ? the fallow ground had been prepared, she had only sown the seed. It was the continued influence of the Holy Spirit that could alone render the labour effective ; and was not His gracious influence sufficiently evident in the new inclinations, the new desires, the new hopes of her pupil ? Marian felt it was. It was a pleasant change for Julie, from the bed- room to the little study, to sit in that comfortable easy chair — Allen's easy chair — by the glowing, well- built fire, the table drawn close within leach, her little Bible at her elbow, her volume of fugitive poems beneath it, the ripe oranges Allen had purposely lidden to the township to procure, temptingly diffusing their rich perfume ; to exchange the closely curtained aOWING SEEDS. 1S5 window of the bed-chamber for the gracefully lifted drapery of the window of their pretty blue room, through the parted folds of which she could discern green trees, and the dear rising hill, crowned with she-oaks, refreshing to look upon. How pleasant it was, too, to Hsten to the sweet-toned piano, to watch Marian's white fingers as they lingered lovingly over the keys; more than all, to hear her sing low, sweet, uirilling songs of Jesus and His love. How she loved her governess ! There were soft, warm, sunshiny days succeeding that storm. Indeed it appeared as though it was the parting outburst of the season, and though there was still occasionally a shower of rain, just to keep the earth refreshed and fertile, yet the violence of the winter had spent itself. " Does not this remind you that spring is coming, Julie ? " asked Allen one morning, entering the study, as his sister had seated herself in her accustomed lounge by its fire. He threw a small branch of golden wattle flowers on the table as he spoke. " O Allen ! yes. How beautiful. I am so glad. I did not think that there would be any wattle blossoms for a long while." The rich colour that glowed in her cheek suiSciently testified her pleasure. The sight of the golden blossoms did her good. " When are you coming out, Julie, to see the garden?" Allen asked, placing himself behind his sister, and his hands resting affectionately on her shoulders. 136 Bownra seeds. " I don't know, Allen," said Julie, half mournfully. " I want very much to come out, the sunshine is so beautiful. It is not wet, Allen, is it ?" " Wet, darling ? no ; the paths are as dry as a bore Try a walk to the window, pet, and look for your- self." He placed his arm around her, and gently led her across the room as he spoke. " There ; is not that worth looking at, Julie ? I'm sure it would do you good to be out. I'll ask mother and Mi.s8 Herbert, shall I ? They will know best what is good for you." " Oh yes, Allen ! please do. I want so to see what you have been doing in the garden. Is the ground ready for the seeds yet ? " " Quite ; and I want you and Miss Herbert to sow them. You see, Julie, I always think ladies manage those delicate sorts of matters best. They generally have more taste, especially among flowers." " Ah ! but gentlemen have taste, too," said Julie, with a slight archness in her tone and glance. " At least, Allen, Miss Herbert says you have." " You will make me vain, Julie, if you tell me that," said Allen, smiling. " Miss Herbert wishes to please you, pet." "But she would not tell an untruth, or say what ghe did not think, to please me, Allen," replied Julie, gravely. " I did not mean that, darling, I'm sure she would not. Well, come and sit down again, dear, and I will go and consult your nurse as to the propriety of a SOWING SEEDS. 137 quiet promenade. It is so very fine, I think I may promise you ' Yes,' for an answer." And carefully wrapped in a warm shawl, with a close little silk hood tied under her chin, and her parasol to ward off the rather fervent sunshine, Julie was once more permitted to inhale the fresh air of heaven. With what new feelings she did so, welcoming each blade of grass, each tiny, insignificant flower, every leaf, every passing breeze, with the inward glad whisper, " My Father made them all. He who created all things is my God too ! He loves even me." Could Alf have seen her that moment he would have better comprehended that term, " spiritual," Marian had once applied to his sister. Something of the heart's language was impressed upon her features. Alf, however, was away at his usual avocation, and Julie was supported on either side by those she dearly loved, Allen and Marian. The paths had been left of a pleasant breadth ; four might have walked comfortably abreast, for there was no deficiency of ground inclosed, and the purpose of all was pleasure, a very unusual one in Australia. Utility was here put entirely out of the question. " I have been venturing a little beyond the pale of your advice, Miss Herbert," at length Allen exclaimed, IS they turned into a path evidently winding round the whole of the inclosure. " Do you see what I have done?" and he pointed to either side of the path, aL^ng which were newly planted vines, rapidly put- ting forth buds and leaves. 138 SOWING SEEDS. "Grape-vines!" said Marian. "Well, but I thought you intended to have no fruit here." " So I did ; but you see, Miss Herbert, in planting these, I was thinking of something almost as agreeable in summer as fruit — I mean shade. I intend this to be one of the coolest, prettiest walks one could desire on a hot day. I shall have a trellis thrown overhead, the vines will very quickly cover it, and in the centre of the walk there is to be a summer house. Stoop down, if you please, ladies, and you will discover something else. Do you see those little unmeaning twigs, all putting out buds and leaves ?" *' Yes. Why they are rose slips ! " " Every variety that I could lay hands upon," laughed Allen, highly gratified by the evident pleasure and approbation of his companions. " How beautiful ! " said Marian, with admiration. " How much I admire the idea ! Can you not fancy, Julie, you see the roses in bloom, and the vine-leaves and tendrils interlacing above ? " Allen looked at her with unbounded admiration. His imagination carried him even a little farther than that, for hope was bright just then. It was something beyond roses and vine-leaves that was to reward his labour, or it was all futile. They sauntered slowly through the walks. At intervals there were openings on either side, com- municating with the other parts of the garden. Through one of these openings they came upon a little lawn in embryo. The grass liad been left ; it SOWING SEEDS. 139 waa of a particular soft, velvety kind, and had been newly mown into order. A ring had been marked in the centre by slender poles placed in the ground, round which, from pole to pole, wattle boughs, stripped of their leaves, had been securely fastened, forming a continuance of arches, and at the foot of every pole was a creeping rose-tree. " You do not want my advice, Mr. Allen," said Marian, earnestly ; " your design is beautiful. I can understand how perfectly lovely it will be." " Oh, but there is much more to do. I fear I have exhausted my genius in the rose- walk and lawn. I hope you will not withhold your promised assist- ance. " Certainly not if it is required ; but it appears to me you can do so w^ell without it." Allen turned upon her a quick, penetrating, ear- nest look. It said more effectually than words, " That is impossible ; " and there was so much more the eyes expressed, that Marian was glad to avert her gaze, and turn the conversation. Glad, too, she was to hear her name called from the house, that she might hide her embarrassment in a retreat. " Allen ! I wish we were never going to leave this house," sighed Julie, as she slowly returned towards home with her brother., He smiled. " Do you, Julie ?" but he did not tell her he could not reciprocate her wish. CHAPTER XVIL WKAT THE EAIN BEOUGHT. " And the rain, it raineth so fa^'^t and cold, Wo must cover the embers low ; And snugly housed from the wind and weather, Mopo like buds that are changing feather." Sunshine and fine weather did much for Julie, and slie was no longer a prisoner in the house. As her accustomed strength returned, she was almost con- stantly in the garden, following out either Allen's or Marian's suggestions ; for he still persisted he could not do without their assistance. It was pleasant work those bright days, sowing seeds, and planting rose slips, young lilacs, and laburnum-trees. Allen was not at all times with them. He had his cus- tomary business to pursue, but he never returned from a journey without procuring some shrub or herb, some trifle for the garden, which he had either begged, borrowed, or stolen. Just opposite the study window, in the centre of another plot of grass, he had formed a small circular bed, and in the centre of this he had placed a basket, on a pedestal of wattle boughs. Its shape was very ingenious, and green paint had greatly improved itg WHAT THE KAIN BEOUGHT. 141 appearance. This he had filled with mould, and decorated with two or three creeping plants, a gerar nium, and one or two dwarf rose-trees. It was attrac- tive in its unfinished condition. " We must have some more of your flower-basketa about the garden, Mr. Allen," said Marian with admi- ration, as she watched the completion of his design, " You will become quite notorious on account of this garden," she added laughing. "I care little what others either say or think of it, if you like it, Miss Herbert," replied Allen, in a tone intended for her ear only. She coloured highly. "What possible consequence can my opinion be on the subject ? " she thought to herself. " I am not to be long here ; or if I am, I shall be on the other side of tlie home section, in the new house. What benefit then will be the beauty of this garden ? For in a short time it will be beautiful — it must be." Marian stood with her hands resting on the top of the garden-rake. Imagination was busy at work. " It will indeed be lovely," she inaudibly murmured. AUen rose from the basket around which he was twisting a truant spray, and looked earnestly at her. At that moment he would have thrown himself and garden and all he had at her feet. But whether or not Marian's quick instinct saw the danger, she de- stroyed the charm, and threw him back from his sentiment by suddenly exclaiming, — " What do you intend doing with that large piece 142 -WnAT THE BAIN BTlOFOnT. of ground behind the house ? You have separated it from the rest by that long row of arches, which I see you intend to be covered with Cape ivy." " I have not yet made up my mind," repHed Allen, dashed down by the question from his sentimental position to common life again. For in truth he had a kitchen-garden in view on that identical spot ; and the completion of that was dependent upon an evenb, so uncertain that it would not do to speak of. The new house was progressing rapidly. The fine weather tended wonderfully to its completion. All the exterior work was done, and the plastering of the interior was in some cases completed. Mrs. Burton was satisfied to her heart's content. She expressed her pleasure, and did not spare directions and sug- gestions. She was so often away at the new house with Bessie, Alf, and her husband, that Marian, Julie, and Allen were already almost left to the old home- stead. Allen was very contented it should be so. If occasionally, on returning from a long ride, he found his mother absent, and on inquiring, heard she was not likely to return, he was in no way displeased. His dinner was too pleasantly prepared by other hands for him to miss her, his cup of coffee was none the worse for being administered b}'^ Marian. The seeds, bulbs, flower-roots, and slips were just in their destined places, when down came the rain again — heavy rain, too — a sort of reminder that if the other storm was taken as a farewell to winter, it was a most decided mistake. Work out of doors was WHAT THE BAIN BEOUQHT. 143 out ot the question, Marian and her pupils returned more steadily to their studies, and the fire again burned all day in the music-room, for latterly Allen had changed its name, and by silent though general consent it had been adopted. " Ah, come down — come down in bucketfuls ! Who cares?" was Alfs exclamation on a very wet evening, as divested of damp boots and jumper, and in full enjoyment oi' warm, dry ones, lie followed Allen's example, and sauntered into the music-room. " Well, girls, this is what I call cozy," he exclaimed, throwing himself into a chair, a comfortable distance between the fire and lamp. " I have bad a vision of this music-room and its glowing fij*e and pretty faces," added he, with a glance at Allen, " all the time I have been in that wet stockyard. The very prospect of it made me warm." And so indeed it well might, for a very pleasant, warm picture of comfort was that little room ; the softened light of the lamp forming an agreeable con- trast to the dazzling, brilliant, sparkling radiance of the fire. Marian was seated between her two pupils, busily employed on a dress for Bessie, who was dividing her glances of approbation and pleasure between its Boft blue folds and a large book of pictures which lay open before her. Julie, in her accustomed seat, was leaning back among the cushions, wi'th a small Pil- grim's Progress in her hand, in which she was deeply absorbed. Certainly they were grouped very pp ttily 144 WHAT THE EAIN BEOUQUT. together ; the merry romp, with her flaxen curls, and the fair, soft-haired, dehcate Julie, in strong contrast with their governess, with her rich, dark-brown ring- lots and flushed cheeks. Allen silently thought so. Alf significantly expressed the thought, not only in looks but in words. Characteristic, also, were the position and employ- ment of the young men. Allen had seated himself opposite Marian at the table, with a small writing- desk before him. He usually had writing to do in an evening ; but could the contents of that desk have been revealed, something besides calculations and business letters would have been discerned. As to Alf, penknife in hand, he was very busily engaged carving the handle of a whip with all kinds of grotesque figures ; his tongue meanwhile rattling on with its accustomed freedom, sometimes to the amusement, sometimes to the discomfiture of his com- panions. The fire blazed and glowed though the rain was descending still in torrents ; it really made the atmosphere of the room very inviting. " Hallo ! '* shouted Alf, suddenly, as a rather start- ling knock at the sitting-room door, followed by a rapid entrance of feet, broke in upon their momen- tary silence. '' I say, Allen, there are some friends of yours, I fancy/' he continued, with a comic look at his brother, " three of them. Lady INIary and all ! " He rose, threw open the door of their ntroat, and discovered Edward Ciare, bis sister and l^rotlur, removing wet coats and WHAT THE RAIN BEOUGHT. 145 habit before the large sitting-room fire. Allen left his seat, and went forward. " We have taken you by storm, as the storm has taken us," said Edward Clare, shaking his friend's hand with double the warmth it deserved could he have known the feelings with which it was extended. "Frank and I have had a long ride, to bring this young lady home from Riverton, where she has been visiting; and this storm was so unmerciful as to half-drown both us and our horses. So, as the creek will be impassible, or at any rate, unpleasantly high to cross to-night, we have intruded on your father's kind hospitality. Do you and Mary need intro- ducing ? " " I think not," repHed Allen, making an attempt to smile, and approaching the young lady in question, who certainly had nothing either alarming or repul- sive in appearance ; for, as Julie had said, she had soft brown hair, banded neatly away from her brow, and eyes — not soft, that was a mistake — but quick and full of glee, and a cheek to which the storm had only given greater freshness, and whose colour might have shamed the rose. A tall, full figure, of very just proportions, did indeed give her something like a commanding aspect, and the ruby lips had not a little archness in their smile. Allen was, however, neither afraid nor bashful, and the other nameless feeling vanished before her first glance ; and half laughing at her, half at himself, he bade her welcome to the liQUse; then leading her forward into the music-room, 146 WHAT THE EATN BROUGHT. at once presented her to Marian and his sister Julie. " Allen, my boy," said Edward Clare, when he re- turned to him, in a low voice, " I had no idea you were so sly. To think of your having music and heauty here in the bush, and keeping it all for your own entertainment ! " " I never knew you were an admirer of music." " No ! Well then, you have discovered one of my dormant qualities. I am a passionate admirer of — of — of everything that is beautiful." " I vote for our return to the music-room," said Alf ; " father will enjoy his pipe and newspaper better if we go. Never mind what we shall enjoy," he whispered to Frank Clare, aside. ** I second the motion ! " cried Edward, eagerly. " Come, Allen, we have had the proof of eyesiglit that gentlemen are admitted : so please lead the way." And the whole party of them entered together. Marian rose from her seat, and was formally intro- duced to Edward Clare and his brother; and then they all seated themselves about the room, Alf run- ning the gauntlet of fun with Mary Clare, Allen talking gravely of horses and dogs with Frank, a young man of Alf's age, and Edward Clare devoting all his atten- tion to ]\1 arian, who would rather have listened to his sister. Julie came in for a share of his attention. He had discovered that that was the most effectual way to secure the ear of her governess. " You are like a veritable snowdrop. Miss Julie/* WHAT THE EAIN BEOUQHT. 147 he exclaimed, laughing. " All the prettier for your illness, if that is possible. Oh now don't blush 80, or juu will spoil my simile, and I shall have to think of another, or turn my snowdrop into a rose- bud." " Julie docs not care to be reminded of her looks," said Marian, taking compassion on her crimsoned cheeks. He turned short round, and fixed a look of ill- concealed admiration on herself, but he said nothing, for the glance she gave was no encouragement to him to proceed. " I suppose you will not venture out so far as your last walk for a long time. Miss Herbert ? " " Oh, I hope we shall ; I should think this rain would close the winter. Have not you farmers had Bufiicient now ? " " Quite ; we shall have a little too much if the weather does not become settled soon. Do you often walk such distances ? " " Not often ; Julie is not very strong. But we can ride as soon as the weather is settled. We intend goiiig to the little chapel at Evansdale as often as we can." " What, to the Ranters ? " " No ; the Wesleyans, Mr. Clare. They are a simple, earnest people, but I never heard of their ranting I am not a Wesleyan, but I like some of the people very much. At any rate I think it pleasant to worship God in a house set apart for His service, when I have the opportunity." L 2 148 WHAT THE BAIN BEOU&HT. There was a little awkward pause for a foiv mo- ments after this. It was broken by Allen suddenly exclaiming, — " Miss Herbert, is it too much to ask for those sweet ' Bird waltzes,' of which we are all so fond ? Miss Clare I am sure would like to hear them." She rose instantly, and walked to the piano. Edward Clare started up, placed her chair in readi- ness, and opened the instrument ; while Allen quietly took possession of her portfolio, and sought the desired waltzes, and then, to the evident disappointment of his friend, remained by her side to turn the pages of the book for her. Even Alf and his companion, Mary Clare, were silent as those sweet sounds floated through the room, rippling, quivering, dancing like things of life. Marian had often played, but never with more feeling. So Allen thought, as with one hand resting on the back of her chair, the other turn- ing leaf after leaf, he stood watching the delicate hands in their passage over the keys, and determined to keep his fiiend Edward as much at bay as possible. A glance at him as he stood resting his head against the wall, with both arms folded, and his eyes fixed intently on the fair musician, not a little confirmed him in his purpose. How at that moment he wished that his own fate wtre decided, that he need fear no longer ! " How delightful it must be to have the power of bringing out such sweet sounds from those keys ! " said Mary, with a sigh, after Marian had risen froiR WHAT THE IIAIN BEOtJOHT. 14§ her seat at the inBtrument, and returned to her formei place at the table, Allen thit isxne being by her side. " I wish I could play." " You, Mary, with your great, fet,. awkward hands ! the churn-handle is better adapted to them," said her brother with a merry laugh. " I am sure, Edward, you are very polite," said his sister, colouring highly, and looking down at the offending, but sadly libelled members. Rather large they certainly were, and — truth compels us to confess it — red ; but they were not awkward-looking hands after all. " If I were you, Miss Clare, I would pull his wool for that," said Alf. " At any rate, he is glad enough to get the ' awk- ward, fat hands ' employed in his service, and ready enough to eat the butter they make," replied Mary. " To be sure I am ; and when is there a time that I do not give you full credit for being one of the best and neatest housekeepers in the country ? " replied her brother laughing. "I will say that," he con- tinued. " Your dairy is worth looking into ; but my dear sis, you must acknowledge your fingers were never made for piano-keys." And he gave a glance at the ?iands he was abusing, and then at the pretty fingers busily engaged on the soft blue merino, by way of adding force to his words. " You must not think that your brother means any- thing else but compliment, Miss Clare," said Marian, 150 W&AT ffHE EAtN BSOtTGfiT. indignant at the unwarrantable attack of Edward. " Many gvintlemen think musical accomplishment waste of time, and that hands adapted for the piano are not fit for anything else." Edward Clare shook his head. " We know better than that, Miss Marian. Don't we, Allen ? " said Alf, roguishly. " Do you remem- ber last harvest — the can and the lunch bags? " " Be quiet, Mr. Alf," said Marian, laughing and blushing ; " you have no right to betray secrets." " Or the winnowing machine ? " persisted Alf, with a provoking glance from his brother to Marian. " Alf, have you not sense to see you are making yourself very disagreeable ? " said AUen. " That's what it seems I always am," said Alf, with an affected sigh of resignation. " Was there ever such an abused being ? Take pity on me, Miss Clare," he continued, turning with a most despairing coun- tenance to the young lady he addressed, and flinging his arm rather impudently over the back of the chair against which she was leaning; "everything I say they tell me is wrong." " And I shall join them ; and add also, that every- thing you do is wrong," she exclaimed, laughing, and withdrawing her shoulder from his hand. " No, don't do that, for it always has a contrary effect — it makes me worser. You have no idea how provoking I can be." " I have : a very good idea," sh* replied, rising and attempting to cross the room. WHAT THE EATN BROUGHT. 151 "Oh, don't leave me," petitioned Alf, catching her hand and re-seating her. " I will be a good boy, indeed 1 will, if you will only stay." CHAPTER XVm. WHO IS THE HAPPY MAN ? Not he who has all that this world can bestfw, Its wealth and affection most lavishly giver. But he who can look from a Bojoum below. To a permanent treaeure— to mansionB in heaven. " Who would not be a Christian ? I have seen Men Bhrinldng from the term, as if it brought A charge against them. Yet the honoured nam© Is full of gentlest meaning." ** Good morning, Miss Herbert," exclaimed Edward Clare, moving towards the sitting-room door with a smile of j^leasure as she entered. He was the sole occupant of the room, and had been silently and rather moodily watching the clouds, through which an occasional gleam of sunshine gave slight promise of improving weather. " Good morning," replied Marian, cheerfully giving him her hand as she sj)okc. " The weather is not quite so bad as last night. I saw you were inspect- ing it." " I was looking at the clouds, certainly, though not altogether studying tKe weather ; about that there is not much question. The wind is in the right quarter ; we shall have it fine again. I suppose," Who is the happy man ? 153 he added, laughing, " you would scarcely believe me if I told you I was philosophising on human life when you entered." " Why should I not believe you ? " "Oh, I don't know. I thought perhaps you entet- tained the same opinion of me as most other people do, that I am a haruin scarum sort of a fellow, into whose head such a thing as philosophy could never enter. Indeed," he continued, turning a very pene- trating look into her face, " I still believe you think BO." " Do you imagine then I o<),n read character so <^uickly ? " " Yes, I do — at least I think you form your judg- ment quickly, and have set down Edward Clare as a very shallow-pated individual, with only a dash of good nature as a redeeming quality." " You affev'j to read my thoughts, do you ? " said Marian, laughing, " Will you, then, to counteract those thoughts, oblige me with a little of your philo- sophy ? " " Has it ever struck you, Miss Herbert, that some men are born under a particularly happy star, while others have a clouded destiny from beginning to end of the chapter ? " Edward Clare spoke very gravely, but not in reply to her question. " Do you mean as to externals ? '* Why, the internal is so dependent on the exter- nal, is it not? I should think there can be little difference." 154( WHO tS THE HA.PPT MAN ? "Pardon me, every difference I imagine," replied Marian. "A clouded earthly career does not neces- sarily imply a lack of mental sunshine ; and with regard to your first question, perhaps we differ re- specting the ' clouded destiny ' on one side, and the * happy star ' of the other ; our estimate of each may widely differ. What is your definition of the latter ? " " I call that man horn under a happy star, who is the favourite child of fortune, not only as to the pos- session of the baser metals silver and gold, but of the affections." " I call that man a fortunate man, a happy man," said Marian, gravely, " who is a child of God — a favourite of heaven ; who fixes not all his atfections on earth, whose treasure is above, whose heart is there ; external things can then indeed have little influence on him, he is beyond, superior to them all. " Breakfast ! breakfast ! " shouted Alf, who had just entered the room ; and not very well pleased, for his brother's sake, by the serious tete-a-tete, of which he was a witness, he broke upon them with the whole strength of his lungs, — "Breakfast! breakfast!" " For mercy's sake have pity upon one's head, Alf ! " said Edward Clare, responding to his morning salutation, but most heartily wishing him at that moment sound asleep on his pillow, or at the other end of the section. ** Oh, it's nothing when one's used to it," replied WHO IS THE HAPPY MAN? 155 Alf, bustling about, upsetting the chairs and over- turning stools in his progress. " Come, Miss Her- bert, let me escort you to your place ; the coffee wante your attention. Here, Allen, come to your old post, can't you ! I am obliged to take your office, you see. That comes of being late ; however, now you are here, take your seat and do your duty." Allen mentally, almost for the first time, was grate- ful to his random brother; he understood his intention. As to Edward Clare, it certainly was not a blessing he breathed on Alf 's head for the officiousness that had left him only the opposite side of the table. He was obliged to content himself with his distant position, and answer, as well as he could, the questions with which Mr. Burton plied him during breakfast, respect- ing the produce of his farm and stock. It was a diffi- cult task to be sure, and sometimes the answers he made were in danger of proving wide of the mark ; for on one side he could hear a running fire of wit and fun between Alf and his sister, and on the other hand, nearly opposite to him, a low conversation was going on between Allen, Marian, and Frank. He would have given much to have heard what they were talking about. After breakfast they had no plea to detain them ; they therefore mounted their horses and returned home, Alf volunteering to accompany them. Edward Clare had the satisfaction to hear his sister Bay, as she stooped from her saddle before they started, * I hope Miss Herbert and Julie will very often come 156 WHO IS THE HAPPY MAJI ? and S6. me," and his satisfaction was by no means lessened at ^Marian's reply, — " We will, as soon as the weather is fine." "And let us see you often," said Mrs. Burton, kindly. " You young people must be rather dull by yourselves, but there need be nothing to prevent your coming here as often as you can, and your brothers too, Miss Clare." " Thank you, Mrs. Barton, thank you," said Mary, with a beaming smile ; " I shall certainly avail myself of your kind invitation." " I am glad you include Frank and myself, Mrs. Burton. I shall certainly not forget it," said Edward, laughing. " I hope you do not stand in need of invitation, Mr. Clare," replied Mrs. Burton, " you will be wel- come whenever you come. Are you not Allen's friend ? " But Allen wished just then that his mother would not be quite so warm in her invitation to his friend. He stood by, and said nothing, affecting indeed to be too deeply engrossed in the arrangement of the bit of Mary's horse, to notice or even hear the conversation. It was a genuine sigh of relief he gave as the horses cantered away and disappeared among the trees. His spirits involuntarily rose fifty per cent, as Marian exclaimed, — " Now, Julie ; now for the garden. While this sunshine lasts let us see the good the i*in has done," WHO 18 THE HAPPY MAN ? 157 Allen congratulated himself that he had thought of a garden, and gloried over Edward Clare, because it was hi^ home of which Marian was the sunshine ; it was by his possessions she was surrounded ; and ho had at least the benefit of daily intercourse with her, which Edward Clare was denied. CHAPTER XTX. maeian's shadow. " I would not wish Any companion in the world but yon." Speino, with its buds and blossoms, was now fully in. Occasional showers were now not deplored, but rather welcomed. The little brown, unsightly seeds Marian, Julie, and AUen had put into the ground, had now sprung into beautiful being, and with all three the garden was a favourite resort. Allen had formed a very pretty bower of hop plants ; he had chosen them for their rapid growth, and closely around them he had planted the choicest roses, and blue and white violets, which, now in their full beauty, diffused delightful fragrance through the air. Whenever the sun looked warmly upon them, Marian and her pupils took books and work thither. The girls were learning to love flowers as well as their instructress. Every fine evening brought other admirers to tho garden, admirers Allen could very willingly have excluded, for he doubted, in one instance at least, whether all the admiration was expended on the gar- den. Edward Clare was not one who waited for much 'svitatiou. Motive with him was all j and a motiv? maeian's shadow. 159 he had in coming to the homestead which he chose to keep to himself; perhaps his own natural vanity pre- vented him from discovering that, to some parties, his visits were unwelcome. " Well," exclaimed Alf to himself one evening, as he stood under the veranda, looking over the garden wall, where Marian and Julie were walking with Edward Clare by their side, — " well, if I were Allen, I be hanged if I would allow that ! What a fool he is to let matters go on so. I doubt now whether he will not let the girl slip through his fingers ! " Allen heard his soliloquy, and was looking at the same scene in the garden, but he did not discover himself to his brother. " I am not quite such a fool as that," he thought ; " at least I won't without a trial." Oh, it was rather a ticklish point, this ' to be or not to be ' part of the business ; the courage might well require screwing up for the occasion. " Promise me one thing, Julie, wnll you pet ? " he whispered that evening to his sister, as he sat in the veranda, with one arm thrown round her slender waist, and her head resting on his shoulder. " Promise me one thing ; whenever Edward Clare intrudes his pre- sence on Miss Herbert, do you always keep close to her — don't leave her for a minute." Julie's blue eyes opened very widely, and she lifted her head to look into her brother's face, in order to discover whether or no he jested. " Do you not like Edward Clare, Allen? " she asked in a tone of innocent wonder. 160 Marian's shadow. The colour flushed to Allen's brow at the question, but the shadow of the veranda prevented the moon- light from betra^'ing it. He replied evasively to hia sister, — " I think he is rather tiresome in his attentions, Julie, that's all. Will you do as I ask you ? " " Oh yes, Allen. But do you think Miss Herbert will like it ? I'm sure Mr. Clare will not, for he always looks as if he wished I would go away when- ever he comes." Allen bit his lips, and frowned, but he commanded his voice sufficiently to ask, — " Do you think, then. Miss Herbert also wishes you away, Julie ? " His breath came short and thick as he listened for her answer. She hesitated a moment, and then replied, " No Allen ; I do not think she does. She will always have me with her, and holds my hand, I remember now, very tightly whenever Edward Clare is with us." Allen gave a sigh of mingled pleasure and relief. " Then, Julie, you will do as I ask ? " " Oh, yes." And to her brother's secret satisfaction, though to Edward Clare's very evident annoyance, she most faithfully kept her promise. Thanks to her watchful- ness, the latter gentleman never found Marian alone. " Her shadow," as he half playfully, half pettislily called Julie, was ever at her side. There was no such thing as a word in secret between them, and certaiiilj maeian's shadow. 161 Marian gave no evidence of desiring it. She feigned no messages to get Julie from her side, but the more determined Edward Clare seemed against her shadow, the more determinately did she cling to it. ' Julie's health had very much improved with the warm weather; they were once more enabled to resume their walks. And one very lovely Sabbath morning the horses stood ready saddled at tlie door, the hymn-books were once more safely tucked into the pockets of the saddles, and Marian, Julie, and the two brothers were again on their road to the little chapel among the hills. The wattle blossoms had all disappeared, but there were yet hundreds of unfaded flowers in the shade of the green boughs. Flocks of parrots of all colours, from the grass-green paro- quet to the beautiful blue mountain, flew across and across their path. The little robin, with its breast of vivid vermilion, like a living gem, carelessly twittered among the wattle boughs ; and sometimes a white cloud disturbed the blue of the heavens, attended bj a discordant screeching, as a flight of white cockatoof passed over their heads. Wide-brimmed hats and veils were found comfort- able, for the spring was rapidly brightening into gummer, and the sun looked very, very warmly from the heavens. Where the grass was unprotected by the shade of gum, or wattle, or cherry-tree, it had already begun to assume a yellow tinge, and its seeds were unpleasantly proclaiming their existence to the pedestrian. But on this Sabbath morning, a 3d 1G2 maetan'8 shadow. pleasant breeze was tempering the sun's fervid rays ; a breeze that lifted the veil, and fanned the cheek and lip and brow, and slightly dishevelled the ring- lets beneath the hats, and was altogether a very welcome, refreshing visitant. So Marian thought ; at any rate, it came so pure from heaven, albeit it caught some of earth's flowers in its way. " I am very glad we are going once again to chapel, Miss Herbert, are not you?" said Julie, reining her horse to the side of her governess as she spoke, and placing her hand caressingly upon the mane. " It is only a little chapel, to be sure, but it seems so mucli nicer than spending Sunday as so many spend it in the bush — as once I liked to spend it," she added with a blush and sigh. *' Yes, dear Julie," said Marian, re-echoing her sigh ; " that is just what I so much miss in the bush. The Sabbaths are still so strange, though we spend them a little more pleasantly than we used. But I must confess a strong attachment to the house of God, to a place set apart for His worship, where He has promised specially to meet His people. I can understand well the feeling of the poet, when he says,— •I have been there and still would go, 'Tis liku a little heaven below." " I think I can, too," said Julie in a low voice, musingly. "1 felt so glad to think we were going to- day !"' " Yes, Julie ; and we should remember whom we maeian's shadot*. 1G3 are going to meet — not man, but our Saviour. He has promised to be there, and however poor the means, He can bless, and will." Julie rode silently forward for a few minutes ; she was evidently in deep thought, and for a little while no one spoke. At length she turned to Allen, and leaning slightly forward on her saddle, half coaxingly whispered, — " Would it not be pleasant to have a pretty little chapel built on the home section, Allen ?" "Very pleasant," said Alf, satirically, for he had overheard the whisper. " I fancy I see it — Allen officiating as minister. By the bye, Allen, I verily believe you are cut out for the profession. Yes, decidedly, your cast of countenance is just the thing for a parson." Marian glanced quickly at the embryo minister, a quick half-earnest glance ; but, alas ! the countenance wore anything but the meek, quiet expression of one of Heaven's messengers. With a quiet sigh she turned away again. Allen was indeed prepared for a passionate reply ; whether or not he caught the expression of Marian's eye is doubtful, but however he only answered, — " I think you, Alf, are decidedly ' cut out ' for a fool." Alf laughed, and rode forward, amusing himself as he went by stripping all the boughs within his reach of their leaves. Allen turntd toward his oister wit^> a gofbened voice, asking, — 164 MABlAJf's SHADOW. " What is that jou thought would be so pleasant, Julie?" " A chapel on our home section. Oh, it would be nice, Allen ! we should be able to go every Sunday, and I dare say that after a little while all the people within four or five miles would be glad to come.' " If they all had hearts as warm as the little one beating against your jacket, dear Julie, they would I dare say ; otherwise I fear they will prove very much like some of the homestead inmates, rather lukewarm on the subject." "But you are not lukewarm, dear Allen?" Julie asked earnestly. Her brother, however, made no reply to this, and she went on, — " I dare say at first they would not all come, but after a time they might, and I am sure some would. Now, how seldom any of us can go to a place of worship. In bad weather not at alb" " Well, Julie, what would you have us to do ? " asked Allen, rather quizzingly, " ask mother to throw open the sitting-room for the purpose ? " " That might do for a little time at any rate," replied Julie, gravely and thoughtfully, ** but it would not be half so nice as a little chapel ; not half so nice, Allen." " But I do not believe that father would hear a word of the scheme, Julie. I hope you do not want me to propose it to him, do you, pet ? " " Oh no ! " said Julie, laughing, and then looking gmldenly grave again, " Oh no ; not father, certainly. jIaeian's shadow. 165 but then you know, Allen," she continuefl, hrightening up, and resuming her coaxing tone and manner, " you will soon be master of the homestead and the home section, and then of course you can do as you like, and build what you like." Allen coloured and laughed, and playfully switched his sister's horse with his whip. It at once set off at a full canter, and his own fine steed gallantly kept company. They left their companions far behind. "Will you do as I want you, dear Allen?" Julie resumed coaxingly, as they reined in their horses and stood waiting the approach of Marian and Alf, who were following more leisurely behind. " When that time comes, Julie, and when the homestead has another inmate, ask me again," re- plied Allen, half playfully, half seriously. Julie's blue eyes turned a very surprised look upon her brother ; she did not thoroughly understand him ; the "other inmate " perfectly mystified her. But she knew very well by the expression of his face, that she must not ask any further, and as she loved him too well either to trouble or displease him, the little hcmo- atead chapel was mentioned no mojo. CHAPTER XX. A PEEP AT " THE COTJESE THAT NEVEE EUN8 SMOOTH." ** Oh, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day; Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and bye a cloud takes all away I " Service had already commenced in the little chapel, when their horses stopped at its simple slip-panel, for it boasted no gate. As they stood a moment or two while the brothers fastened the horses within the enclosure, Marian and Julie could distinctly hear the words of the sacred song. The harmony was sweet, though the voices were rude, and to Marian espe- cially the words were very dear. Her heart leaped in unison with the measure and responded to the eentiment, — •* I thirst, Thor wounded Lamb of God, To wash me in Thy cleansing blood ; To dwell within Thy wounds : then pain Is sweet, and life or death is gala. Take my poor heart, and let it be For ever closed to all but Thee 1 Seal Thou my breast, and let me wear That pledge of love for ever there ! How blest are they who still abide Close sheltered in Thy bleeding side .' Who life and strength from thence derlva i-nd \>s Thee move, aoid ija Thee liva. • TUB COUESE THA-T NEVEK HUNS SMOOTH." 1G7 How can it bo, Thou heavenly King, That Thou shonld'st us to glory bring t Make slaves the partners of Thy throno, Decked with a never-fading crown ? Hence our hearts melt, our eyes o'erflowi Our words are lost, nor will wo know. Nor will we think of aught beside, ' My Lord, my Love is crucified.' First-bom of many brethren, Then I To Thee, lo ! all our souls we bow : To Thee our hearts and hands we give : Thine may we die, Thine may we live !" They were comfortably seated within the little ianctuary before the hymn was concluded. Marian's eyes were resting upon the sweet words in her little hymn-book, and, as Allen turned towards her, he per- ceived tears on her dark lashes. He looked again and again, but unable to decipher the mystery, turned for information to the hymn-book in his hand, — " Take my poor heart, and let it be For ever closed to all but Thee I " were the first words that met his eye. A shade of disappointment passed over his brow : ho closed the book, and leant back in his seat. No, he did not, and could not approve of that sentiment, in his present state of feeling. " Why should the heart be closed to everything but God ? " was the question his heart rebelliously proposed. He had yet to learn how possible it is to love earthly objects well, and yet for God to reign supremely in the soul. Perhaps, too, could he have learnt the source from whence Marian's tears flowed, a less gloomy shadow would have dark- ened his brow ; and he would only have been too 168 " THE COtJESE THAT NETEE EUNS SMOOTH.*' happy to have known that it was the thought of the ascendency of earthly affections above heavenly ones, that drew from Marian those silent tears. Alfred's eye had been caught in another direction ; he had exchanged a merry glance with a pair of laughing eyes a few seats oflF. Mary Clare and her 3'ounger brother, Frank, having taken advantage of the beauty of the Sabbath, and Marian's former re- commendation, had entered the chapel a few minutes before them. He was pleased to see them, for there was a prospect of company home, and a merry canter with Mary Clare was just what he wanted. In his own mind, he at once appropriated her. Julie he gave over to the tender mercies of Frank, as he knew, young though she was, she was sufficiently attractive to him, her snowdrop style of beauty being his par- ticular admiration, and he was perfectly convinced that Allen would be satisfied with his division of the booty. Perhaps less of earthly feeling was mingled with Julie's thoughts than any of her companions. New to the heavenly road, all was bright and beautiful yet. It was a fair, a flowery pathway, with but few dark shadows or storm-clouds. Her young soul, melted by a Saviour's love, was yet unfrozen by the chill of worldly influence. She could feelingly re- spond to the words of the sacred page, " Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." Beautiful, childlike confidence, sweet early days of Christian life ! Would that that delighful season, "(THE COtTRSE THAT NETER HtJNS SMOOTH." 169 when the atmosphere in which the soul delights to dwell is an atmosphere of prayer, could always remain! And yet it is good for the Christian that he has to fight as well as to pray. Exercise is good for the soul as well as for the body, hut the days of early love are never, never to be forgotten. It was not one of the ordinary local ministers who this time ascended the pulpit, but a young and gentle- manly looking man, whose brow, from which a pro- fusion of dark hair was carelessly thrown, bore the impress of thought, and whose eye glowed with intel- lect and feeling. He did not thunder out his message to his audience. He was evidently no Boanerges in the ministry, but he carried their hearts with him by his deep, rich voice, his persuasive tones, his affectionate exhortations. He placed before them a Saviour of boundless mercy, and exhibited Him in all His lovely attributes. He sought to throw around them the cords of love, not by awakening terror, but by enlisting their affections on his side. With those warm, pure, devotional feelings, think you he did not succeed ? Even Alf was interested. *' Well, I call that something like a sermon, don't you. Miss Clare ? " exclaimed Alf, after the usual salutations had passed, at the conclusion of the service, while they all stood grouped together before remount- ing their horses. " It must be good, since you say so," replied Miss Clare, laughing, " though I perfectly agree with you. 170 " THE C0UES3 THAT NEVEE fiUNS SMOOTH." I have been interested greatly, and I need not ask if Miss Herbert has." She added in an undertone, " Her beautiful eyes were glowing like stars — they would betray it — and my little friend Julie's look just like dewy violets." " Well now, I declare Ned should hear that," cried Alf banteringly ; " I think he would see that his sister knew something besides the price of butter, or that at any rate butter and sentiment are not so uncongenial as he might suppose." " Insolent ! " said Mary, playfully tapping him on the shoulder with her riding whip. " Let me see if you have improved in gallantry, and can hand me to my saddle in a passable manner." They were the merriest couple ; though Frank was by no means lacking in fun and attention to Julie. The four were cantering along the homeward road before Allen had even assisted his companion to her seat. There was something certainly rather mysterious in the unadjusted state of Marian's saddle. How this belt had become loose, and that entirely unfastened, was exceedingly odd ; but Allen did not appear to be troubled about it, though a few moments placed the others beyond sight, and his companion began to be a little restless. " What a distance they have gone ! " she said, rather uneasily, as Allen placed her at length in the saddle, handing her the whip, and gathering the reins in her hands. ** The trees are betu^een us and them j they will •^THE COUESE THAT NEVEE EUNS SMOOTH." 171 easily be overtaken," he replied. But the quiet manner in which he allowed his horse to choose its own pace betrayed no intention of doing so. Marian's trod step for step with it. A little way along the road, but at distant intervals, surrounded by gardens of fruit and vegets.bles, were the simple slab huts, familiar to every traveller among Australian scenery. These did not extend very far, and finally ceased altogether. Fenced roads continued some distance farther, and fine crops of wheat and newly-gathered hay attracted the attention. But pre- sently even these marks of habitation ceased, and they were again in the bush among trees and hills, with nothing but nature — beautiful wild nature around them. And where were Alf and his troop all this time? It was of no consequence, as Allen said, they would wait for them when they were tired of their wild gallop ; and as to JuUe, there was not the least cause for anxiety about her, she was so excellent a horse- woman, so familiar from her cradle with the saddle. And so they quietly pursued their way, talking about the sei'vice in the little chapel ; of what might be done nearer tc the homestead, and of all the fair scenes around them. But just in proportion as Marian became more perfectly at ease, Allen became more nervously restless. His face flushed, and grew pale by turns. He looked with anxiety into the distance, dreading lest he should catch even the shadow of a riding-skirt or veil. After all,, how much 172 "the COtJESE THAT KEVEB EUNS SMOOTH." pride is there in the heart of man in this dread of a refusal. But he went on talking still of one thing or another, till at length the topic came nearer and nearer home. The new house, and then the old house and its im- provements ; Marian suggesting, and Allen eagerly grasping her ideas. They were now far on their homeward course, and at any minute might come in sight of the rest of the party. Was this golden opportunity to be thrown away ? It was not. It should not be. Allen, by this time, was desperate. He turned suddenly towards Marian, with a counte- nance of intense anxiety, and laying his hand gently on the reins that were hanging carelessly from her horse's neck, exclaimed in a low, tremulous, husky tone, — " It is not possible to go beyond a certain point of endurance. I must speak now. Miss Herbert. Dear Marian, it is in your power to make my life hence- forth either very happy, or very, very miserable. Oh, let it not be the latter ! Presumption though it may seem, I cannot help it." Marian turned red, then pale, and finally slightly started from her saddle with surprise. The surprise, indeed, took away all power of utterance, but Allen had plenty of words now to plead his suit. She bent lower and lower over her saddle. There was a burning spot on either cheek, and more than one tear glistened on her dark riding-habit; her whip lay ** THJ! COUESE THAT XEVEE ETJNS SMOOTH." 173 across her lap, and the hands were clasped closely over her heart. Little knew Allen the struggle she under- went with her earthly affections, before she had power to utter the words that seemed the death-blow to his hopes. " I cannot — I cannot — you must not — I must not — we must not think of each other ! " " And why ? What was there to hinder ? Who ? " were Allen's eager questions, but she only sorrowfully shook her head. The thought of Edward Clare flashed through his mind. His brow grew dark and troubled. ** Had another won her affections ? Was she not free ? " There was none she preferred to him. She was free from all engagements excepting one. And that ? What other engagements could or ought to interfere with love ? She was turning over rapidly, though with eyei bhnded with tears, the leaves of her pocket Bible. He watched her eagerly, and tried in vain to look into her face as she handed it to him. Another moment, and a look of blank disappointment passed over his counte- nance, as he read, underlined by her pencil, the decisive words, — " Those that marry, let them marry in the Lord." At the same moment, the whole troop of missing ones rode into sight, and Edward Clare amongst them. What mattered his presence now ? Allen felt indeed that he had to contend, not with him, but with a more powerful rival. CHAPTER XXL THE TEIAL OT' PAlTn. " 'What may bo my fature lot, Well I know concerns me not ; This should sot my heart at rest, WThiit Thy will ordains is best." In that homeward ride, neither Edward Clare, nor his sister, nor Frank, noticed any change in Allen or Marian, other than that Allen was in one of his reserved moods, and Marian particularly quiet. Alf and Julie were not so blinded. Under the shadow of her large hat, Julie cast many sad, perplexed glances, alternately at her brother and his late companion, wondering whether they were offended at being left behind, or whether they had quarrelled, or what indeed was the matter. As for Alf, one glance was enough, and " What the dickens is up ? " was his muttered exclamation to himself, as he took note of his brother's gloomy, clouded brow, and thought he saw a trace of tears in Marian's eyes. He began to conclude that after all he had better have left the saddle belt and buckles alone ; or that at any rate he might have saved himself the trouble. Had it not been for tlie Clares, the ride home would have proved but a gloomy one. It was, howdver, THE TBIAL OF FAIT.l. 175 Utterly impossible for Alf's buoyant, light-hearted nature to remain long with a shade upon it. He soon shook off the cloud, and was frolicking in sunshine again. The whole party rode home together, but they changed companions ; Allen rode silently behind with Julie ; Mary Clare, Alf, and Frank cantered on ahead; and Edward Clare for once found Mariaii divested of her " shadow." There was something in her face that prevented him taking advantage of the fortunate circumstance, however ; something at any rate for- bidding familiar approach. It was hard to Marian to bear his light, frivolous rattle, but she did bear it, and for the remainder of the day too, for she could nut escape. Allen was not so bound, or at least would not sub- mit to such bondage. He absented himself imme- diately after dinner, and they saw him no more until very late in the evening, when he crossed the sitting- room, and went off to bed. He was to be up by day- light the next morning on his way to a distant station, and was not expected to return home for some days. Marian passed a very sleepless night, a night of very mingled feelings. She could not disguise from herself that Allen possessed no second place in her 6eart ; that she felt for him more than as a sister or a friend. But the one great barrier arose still strongly before her. They were thoughts, hopes, feelings, aspirations, desires, in which he could not share. He knew nothing of the inner life, the life of the soul, 176 THE TEIAL OF FAITH. v/hich was most precious to her : and " How can two walk together except they be agreed ? " came again and again to her mind through the night. Think you Marian trusted only to her own judg- ment in the matter ? Oh, no ; for her own natural inclination said enough for Allen. She knew that even for the simple actions of every-day life, it is well for the Christian to search for a warrant in the sacred page, to appeal to that throne whence no petitioner is sent empty away. " Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers," were words that echoed command- iagly in her ear, and she felt there could be no real happiness where the vital points were opposed. Yet it was a bitter, bitter struggle ; and what was left for her ? what hope ? what consolation ? She could pray for him. And when had she ceased to do so ? though till that night his name never crossed her lips, even when alone and in prayer. She had fallen into a tranquil sleep at last, and the dawn had stolen quietly in, and the earliest sunbeams were gliding obliquely into the room, when the pranc- ing and neighing of a horse, and then a quick footstep outside the window, dispelled her slumber. She awoke with a start, and Hstened with a consciousness of pain to the sounds. She knew very well now she was aroused, who it was had risen so early. She lay breathlessly listening. There was a momentary pause at her window, and then the footsteps suddenly and heavily passed away ; a few moments more and the quick gallop of horses' feet was heard, and Mariaa THE TEIAL OP FAITH. 177 Sprang from her bed to the window just in time to catch a glimpse of Allen's disappearing figure, and then her eyes rested on the little ledge outside the casement, where a small parcel lay directed to herself. Ah ! gently, gently, dear Marian ! the sash of your little window is not of English manufacture, remember. It is fresh from the hands of one who has never handled work more delicate than a fence or a stile in the home country. Patience is a virtue, and it is sometimes meet that that virtue should be tried, even in the simple act of opening a stubborn window. Ah ! patience has done its work, and that little parcel is safe in the eager hands at last. Marian with glowing cheeks and trembling fingers tore away the paper, and discovered her own little Bible, the same she had handed to him during the ride of the preceding day, the leaf turned at the words which now seemed so terribly decisive. He had not re-turned it then. And now Marian eagerly turned over the pages — hoping to find she scarcely knew what. As she did so, a small folded paper fell from its leaves to the floor. She picked it up and read it through blinding tears ; then throwing herself again on her pillow, she wept long, almost wildly ; her whole frame trembled with emotion, and many, many bitter murmuring thoughts were mingled with her feelings. At some moments she almost resolved to let her affections take their own course ; at some inoments she almost reconciled herself to the reasoning JS 178 lUE TRIAL OF FAITH. of this too dear Allen. But at the very helgM of her passion, came the still small voice of the sacred word to her rescue: "Commit thy way unto the Lord, and He shall direct thy path." " I will guide thee with mine eye, and afterwards receive thee into glory." " The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord." Marian recognized the voice, and was still. " I cannot, will not, give you up, dear Marian," wrote Allen, " neither do I think a God all gentleness and love ever desired such a sacrifice. Did you not say (the ears of love are too quick to be mis* taken), did you not say you preferred none to myself ? There is not another in the wide world, dearest Marian, that is worthy of comparison with you. If you cast me off, my ruin will lie at your door. I shall henceforth care for nothing ; business or pleasure, all may go. Will you di-ive me from my home, Marian? The home I have been adorning with the hope that one day you will share it ? Oh, can it be that religion teaches such harsh doctrines as this ? " I have marked passages in your own Bible, dear Marian, will they not plead for me ? Surely they should do so. I shall return the day after to-morrow; if you can give me the shadow of hope (you know the old white gum-tree with the cherry-tree beside it, there is a small hole in its trunk) place there a letter for mo, that I ma} know before I enter the house what 1 may expect." CHAPTER XXII. SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. " A most auspicious star, whose inflnence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop." Thboughoui that weary Monday Allen's words were incessantly in her ears : " I cannot give you up, dear Marian — will you drive me from my home ? — on you will lie my ruin." And many, many times she stole out of sight with her tears. She had an almost uninterrupted day, for Julie and Bessie had gone to visit the Clares. She was invited, hut had excused herself ; and the few little duties she had to perform, she went very listlessly about. It could not escape the quick motherly eye of Mrs. Burton that all was not well. " Put down this duster, my dear," said Mrs. Burton, taking hold of Marian's hand kindly ; " you must rest yourself; you are not well, I am sure. Your hands ai-e burning, and your head too." And she placed her own cool palm upon it so tenderly that the tears were nearly bursting forth again. " I am not quite well, I believe," and Marian hid lier tears and flushed cheek upon the kind bosom. 180 SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. " This sudden heat, and you yet only new to the colony. Of course, dear, you would feel it. But did you feel well yesterday ? you did not look quite the thing." " Not quite well," faltered Marian. Had Mrs. Burton looked at the face nestling against her at that moment, she might have been assisted to conclusions which as yet had never crossed her mind. " Ah ! what a pity I never noticed it ; then Allen might have asked Dr. Brown to call. He will pass his door. What a pity ! Alf is out too, and father is so busy." " Oh I am not ill, dear Mrs. Burton," said Marian, hurriedly ; " my head aches a little ; but I will rest, and then I shall soon be better." " Yes, do. Come lie down on the sofa in the music- room. I will draw the curtains and close the door, and if quietness will do you good you shall have it. Now if Allen were only here, I would set him to bathe your head with eau-de-Cologne, and he should have my old Indian fan to waft away the heat." It was fortunate for Marian that as she spoke she was busily opening the window to its widest extent, and drawing the curtains closely over it ; and then quitting the room, she presently came back with the eau-de-Cologne and a snowy handkerchief, and stood herself bathing the flushed brow ; then stooping down, ehe gentlv kissed first the brow and then the lips, SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. 181 softly sealing the action by a gentle, " My daughter,'* and left the room. " My daughter ! " There was something beyond mere endearment in those words ; there was an em- phasis on them which shot a sudden thrill to Marian's heart. A mother's dearest wish was betrayed in that close kiss. Marian turned her head to the pillow and shed bitter tears. What was she doing ? Disappointing all this love and tenderness —turning ungratefully away from the pure affection lavished upon her ! No, no ! not un- gratefully ; for was it with no pang, no suffering to herself, she put this happiness from her ? Was it no cross, that she laid all that appeared dear on earth at the footstool of her heavenly Father, exclaiming with faltering lips, " Thy will be done ? " Rather was it not the heavy weight of her cross that sent the blood so wildly through her veins ? Was it not this that made her temples throb so painfully ? this that caused the deadly sinking of heart, which at times drove all colour from her face, as she lay stretched passively amongst the cushions heaped around her ? She lay there all day, quiet and undisturbed, excepting now and then by the kind entrance of Mrs. Burton, and the anxious glance of her eye. Now she had gathered a leaf of fine ripe strawberries, some of the first in the garden, of Allen's planting. Now she placed a slender glass upon the table near where Marian lay, with a stem from a beautiful and curious rose tree growing near the summer arbour. It waa 182 SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. but one stem, but there were on it two roses, one a glowing pink, the other a pure white. That tree had been formerly christened by Alf, in one of his pro- voking humours, " Allen and his Bride." The name was familiar to the homestead ; Marian knew it very well. Why that stem was gathered now by the mother's hands she could not doubt ; or why, from those roses to the couch where she lay, there were so many wistful glances. Marian slept much during the day, and may be her sorrow made her heavy. Her intervals of wake- fulness were generally peaceful. She had placed her cause in other hands; she felt sure she was right. To what must inevitably be, her taking farewell of the homestead, she closed her eyes. One hope per- petually lingered to comfort her, that God would yet touch the heart of him whom she had so well learned to love, though that happiness seemed almost too great for fulfilment. And so passed away the long weary hours ; hours of rest they were, too. The evening meal was over, and the sun was already declining towards the West, when Mrs. Burton came quietly into the room to Marian, with her bonnet on, and a shawl hanging on her arm. She came up softly to her, and seeing she was not asleep, again tenderly kissed her. " Do you feel better, my dear ? Do you think you would mind my leaving you for a little while ? Mr. Burton wants me to go to Edward Clare's and fetch back the children." SOMETHING tTNEXPECTED. 183 " Oh yes ! do Mrs. Burton, it will do you good ; I can lie very well here. My head is a great dea' better." " You know the girls are all about milking now, but they will soon have finished, and I will tell Maggie to come and see if you want anything." " Oh, thank you ! but I shall want nothing, indeed > and if I do, I can rise and get it." " I shall send Maggie with the lamp, at any rate, dear, then you can light it if you wish," and with another kiss, Mrs. Burton went. " You need not trouble about me, Maggie," said Marian, as the girl brought in the lamp and placed it on the table. " If I want you I will come and call." " Will I not light the lamp presently, Miss ? " " No thank you, Maggie ; I can do that without troubling you. It does my head good to lie in the dark." And so Maiian was soon left alone in the house ; quite alone, for the men were without at their various employments, just closing matters for the night, uu« yoking the bullocks, after removing tb.e last load of hay from the back section, or flirting with the girls who were m.ilking a short distance from the stock- yard, sometimes with, and sometimes without their aid. It was getting dark, but Marian was accustomed to the gloom. She forgot all about the lamp ; she did not need it, but lay with her eyes wandering dreamily about the little room. They rested very lovingly 184 SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. upon the piano. It was open, showing its white ivory keys, but there was no- music on the stand. It had not been played on that day, and they had forgotten to close it at night. A white shrivelled rose-bud lay on the keys ; it was one Edward Clare had gathered her the evening before. It was with- ered and dead now ; she had held it only for one instant in her hands, and a moment after it had been forgotten. Near the window was a bouquet of flowers, still fresh and blooming, not a leaf injured. Marian had not seen them before, yet they had been gathered for her very early that morning. It was another assur- ance of Allen's devotion for her. " Oh that that barrier, that only barrier were broken ! " she sighed, and then closed her eyes. She lay so perfectly still, that at last she fell into a tran- quil sleep, a sleep of mingled dreams. She was aroused by hearing a step in the room. She listened without moving, and her heart heat violently ; but the dusk had increased so rapidly during her sleep, that she could at first discern nothing. At last her eyes caught a faint shadow of some one seated near the window. Whoever it was, the arms were leaning forward on the table, and the head bowed down upon them. Who was it ? who could it be ? Marian tried to speak, but failed; she half rose, and at the same time the figure arose, and drawing aside the curtain, the full li/jht of the moon fell across the floor to her oouch. BOMETHING UNEXPECTED. 185 " Allen ! " she exclaimed, in utter surprise and fear. He started, and came eagerly forward. " You here, dear Marian ! " he said, seizing her hand, and squeezing it far more than he was aware of. *' They are all out. I thought you had gone to those Clares too. But you are ill — faint ! Fool that I wa.s, I have done this ! Marian ! dear Marian ! " She did not hear him ; her head hil upon his arm. He lifted her up, and carried her to the window. She lay Ufeless against him, almost like a child who had fallen asleep, had it not been for the deadly pallor visible even in the moonhght. " I have killed her! " he again groaned, placing her on the couch ; and steeping her handkerchief in the eau-de-Cologne, whicli he fortunately perceived, he bathed again and again her face, brow, and hands. He was presently rewarded for his anxiety by a faint sigh, and then life came slowly back to the pallid face. A moment or two more, and she was conscious who was beside her. She feebly raised herself, but he would not suffer her to move. " Oh, Avhen you are better ! Not now, dear Marian. I thought I had killed you." " I am better," she answered, trying to raise her hand to her temples. They were throbbing violently. She laid her head down on the pillow and wept. Allen was beside himself; he scarcely knew what he did. He drew her to him like a petted cliild, and tried to soothe and quiet her in vain. " Marian, tell me one thing, — do you love me ? Oh, 186 SOMETHING UNEXPECtED. deny me not that ! I will wait — wait as long as you wish. You say you love no one else ; but do you not love me ? Say it, and I will not despair." " Allen, you are unkind to urge me so," sighed Marian. " Will you let me go forth without hope, Marian ? I had rather die at once." " No, Allen ; if by saying that, I can save you to a hope of higher, better things, I will say it." She hid her face on his shoulder, for he had drawn her to him again, and whispered almost inaudibly, " I do love you." Allen's answer is not recorded, gentle reader ; we will look out at the open window, at the pure, clear moonlight, so tranquil in its loveliness ; or if it better please you, we can toy with the white ivory keys of the piano ; or better still, we will pass into the gar- den for a little while. At any rate, it is no business of ours to listen to what is said. Now we may enter again. Marian is half- sitting, half-leaning, against the sofa cushions, and Allen has drawn his chair close to the head of the couch ; one of Marian's hands is very fast in his, yet they are talking very gravely, for Marian adheres strongly to her first resolution. She has admitted the state of her heart, but that heart is not her own to give to him ; she owns allegiance to another, who long since had said, " Give me thine heart." Her determination was fixed never to marry any otlier, but she was equally firm in her r .-,olve not to bestow her hand on SOMETHmO UNEXPECTED. 187 him till she should be thoroughly convinced he had experienced real change of heart. He was obliged to submit. " At any rate, Marian," said he, hathing her hot forehead with the eau-de-Cologne, and pushing back the dark curls from her brow as he spoke, " at any rate, darling, you will let me enjoy the present. Do not be unkind, Marian ; a little love, a little hope is sweet ! " She had not yet asked the occasion of his sudden return, and he laughed as he told her, that not being very well possessed of his senses when he left home, he had to return to find them. " I have a good ex- cuse, however, for father. I heard news on the way of some cattle of ours which have been missing a long time, and it was worth while returning to make sure of the brands— at any rate father will think so ; though, between us, I should never have dreamt of returning, had I not felt that I could not wait for the old gum-tree post-office, but would try and hear my sentence by word of mouth. And have I not suc- ceeded ? " But just then came the sounds of voices and feet rapidly approaching. They were almost at the door. Allen started from his seat, and walked towards the window. Marian composed herself on the pillow, and awaited the intrusion with beating heart. " What, still in the dark, love ? " said Mrs. Burton toming quietly in. " I am afraid you must have been very dull, all alone." 188 SOMETHING UNEXPECTED. " You did not expect me mother," said Allen, comiDg up to her. " Allen ! Why hless the boy — no ! Why, is any- thing the matter ? " " Nothing, mother ; only I have heard of those missing cattle." His mother was looking searchingly into his changed countenance. There was too much happi- ness in it to deceive her, she turned and clasped him in her arms ; and then throwing her arms round Marian, kissed her warmly, again fervently whisper- ing, " My own daughter ! " " Who is that talki'ig with father ? " asked Allen, a moment or two after, y\\.en the agitation had a little subsided. " Ah, I had forgotten ! Some one you will be glad to see. He was coming here, when we overtook him, to see you." "What name, dear Mrs. Burton?" asked Marian, pale with excitement. Allen stood on one side, biting his lips, and trying to peep into the sitting-room. " I did not catch the name. Here, stand by Allen, dear, and you can see." " It is your cousin, Mr. Grenville, dear Marian,' whispered Allen, with a pleased countenance. " My cousin William ? " and pushing back her curisi entirely forgetting their dishevelled state, she joy- ously spn'ug forward to greet him. SOMETHING UNEXPECTED, 189 " Why, Marian ! are you not surprized to see me up in the bush?" he exclaimed, laughing, and kissing her. "I am come to take you away. Isabel wants TOU." CHAPTER XXlii. THE OPPOSITION PAHTY. ' 'Tib where thou art is homo to me. And home without thee cannot be." " No, I don't like you, naughty man ! I won't like you ! " said the romp and pet of the household, struggling to get away from William Grenville. He had caught the little bush njanph as she flew past him, and was holding her fast, to her infinite and laughable vexation. " I don't like you, and I won't like you. Let me go, naughty man ! " exclaimed the wild little Bessie, struggling like an eel to get out of his strong and somewhat rough embrace. "'You don't and you won't like me!' eh, Miss Bessie ? " laughed Grenville. " Well now, tell me why you won't like me?" he asked, after Bessie had ceased her struggles from sheer want of breath. " Let me go, and I'll tell you," and seizing a favour- able opportunity the little gipsy made a dive, and was beyond his reach at the other end of the room, laugh- ing and dancing in triumph. " Why won't you like me, Bessie ? " said her tor- mentor, rising and approaching her comer, as though »T> tlie act of pursuit^. THE OPPOSITION PAETT. 191 " I shan't tell you. I won't tell you. Go away, Mr. Granville!" and Bessie danced up and down in excess of triumph. " You will tell me, will you not, Miss Julie?" cried William Grenville, suddenly turning and throwing his arm round Julie, who was just coming in from the garden, with a bunch of flowers in each hand. " Oh, my flowers ! Oh, Mr. Grenville, please let me go, you are crushing my roses !" It was too bad to tease poor Julie, bewildered with her flowers ; but William was a thorough torment, and, as Edward Clare would have said, the snowdrop was transformed. " Oh, please, Mr. Grenville, do let me go ! Bessie, help me to get away." But Bessie, secure herself, danced and laughed triumphantly in the corner. It was fine fun for her to see her sister in the toils she had so recently es- caped, and she heeded not the plaintive cry, " Do help me, Bessie !" " What do you want to know, Mr. Grenville ? Please let me go, and I'U tell you," said Julie. " I want to know why Bessie don't like me, and why she calls me a naughty man," said Grenville, laughing, but not releasing his prisoner one whit. " Oh no ! I shan't let you go. Not I, indeed. That little eel shpped through my fingers; but I have got you safe enough." " Bessie does not hke you, because of something she heard you say last night," 192 THE OPPOSITION PAETY. "What was that?" "Tou are going to take Miss Herbert away, and for that I don't like you either. Do let me go." " You don't like me for that ? Then what do you like me for ? But do you know, Miss Julie, I have fallen in love with you, and have almost persuaded your mother to let you go also." " Oh, I should like that very much ! Perhaps she will," said Julie, with animation. " I will go and ask her, — no, I'll go to Miss Herbert first." " No hurry, no hurry ; I want you to talk to me a little. Now, Miss Julie, it is not fair to leave me to wander about by myself, and you seem the only young lady disengaged. Won't you show me your garden ? " " Will you let me put my roses into water first?" asked Julie, colouring like a rose hei-self as she spoke, and with a parting struggle, Grenville allowed her to run off with her flowers. She returned in a few minutes, having smoothed her hair, and tied the blue ribbons of her hat under her chin in a very becoming little bow. She was ah-eady as tall as Marian, rather taller if anything, and her figure was slender and graceful. Her beau- tiful complexion, ordinarily too pale, too unrelieved, had this morning a very decided rose upon it, which much increased her prettiness, — William Grenville thought so at least. He knew very well that he himself had given the rose-bloom he so much ad- mired. THE 0,PPOSITION PAETT. 193 " Now, Bessie, come along ; your sister and I are going into the garden," said Grenvillc, springing up and offering his arm to Julie. " Come, you know very well where to find the ripest strawberries ; I know by those lips of yours." The Hps in question assumed a pout for a minute —only a minute. The romp had reached them before they had taken many steps, her curls all tossed about her face, and her hat tied all on one side. She tui-ned back after she had got a little distance beyond them, and shook her head at the tormentor. Grenville understood there was to be a truce between them, and stopped also. " Well, Bessie, what now ? " " If I show you the strawberries will you promise to bring Miss Herbert back ? " she inquired, slightly stamping her little foot as she spoke. " Oh yes," laughed Grenville ; "I apprehend she has found so many friends in the bush, I shall have a diffi- culty in keeping her now." William Grenville, in fact, had come to take Marian finally away from the homestead. He had been very successful in his undertaking, had a pretty little house and beautiful garden in the suburbs of Adelaide, and all he wanted now was to show his newly-acquired possessions to Marian. Her cousin Isabella had something else to show her, a rosebud of a baby, the image, of course, of papa, and the best and sweetest little one ever seen, very much like Marian, too, as far as its little unformed featm-es were capable of resem- 194l THE OTPOHTTION PAETT. blance, its experience of life dating only a few weekg. The important business of fixing on a name was left till Marian should come and propose one. But Gren- villewas not quite prepared for the vehement opposition he met on all sides, and the tacit negative of Marian's quiet looks. " Take her away altogether ! " exclaimed Mr. Burton, looking up suddenly from his newspaper when he first heard it proposed, " be hanged to that ! why, we can't spare her, sir! The mother and girls would be lost." " And others besides the mother and the girls too," exclaimed Alf, who had been looking searchingly into his brother's face for some moments, and trying in vain to decipher its expression. " Say you won't leave us — do ! " he continued, turning to Marian with a beseeching look, half-teasing too ; for he saw as she leaned over the tea-table that her face was mantled by a deep blush. Allen stood by and said nothing. He chose to say what he wanted when no other ears but hers could hear him. He chose his time when the moon threw a thousand shadows under the trees and round the house, when doors and windows were thrown widely open to catch the fresh breeze, and the whole house- hold were scattered about enjoying the evening, and they would not be missed. Then, taking a mantle of his sister's from a peg in the sitting-room, be silently went up to Marian, as she sat for a moment alone under the veranda, and whispered as he threw it over her head,— THE OPPOSITION PARTY. 195 " I am going as far as the slip-panel ; let us have one walk together," She did not refuse. Dull indeed must be the heart that has no appreciation of our moonlight nights. How beautiful in the moonshine are those gaunt old gums, stretching their branches wildly across the path, and throwing far around them their dark, fan- tastic shadows ! And then the graceful cheiTy-tree, the still more beautiful blackwood, and the drooping she-oak — most beautiful in that soft radiance. On the well-worn footpath that Allen had chosen (for they are not on the usual road to the slip-panel — there is too great a flood of light there) there is a complete tracery of leaves imprinted by the full, pure moonlight. There are a thousand rustling sounds here and there among the trees ; the locust is singing its loudest notes of gladness, and from the distant creek the musical croak of the frog is heard. Then a more-pork sends forth its cuckoo-like note on the evening air, and the distant hooting of an owl makes Marian creep a little closer to her companion, so like a cry of human distress does it sound. And then, from bough to bough, the opossums are frolicking in the moonlight, sometimes almost leaping upon their ihoulders or running across their feet. It is so warm she scarcely needs the mantle, and Allen has pushed it back already from the soft, dark ringlets. He loved to see all of that face the gUmpse of moonhght would reveal. " Will you go and leave us, Marian ? " he at last o 2 196 THE OPPOSITION PAETT. whispered. It was the first word that had been spoken since they had quitted the house, and they were now far beyond hearing. Marian did not answer for a few moments, she was playing with the button of her mantle — evidently there was something peculiar in its construction. It was at last scarcely above her breath that she re- plied, — " I must." " Why need you ? they are only cousins. They have not a quarter of the right to you that I have. You must not go ; the homestead will be wretched without you." "Will that be right, Allen? " Marian softly asked. " Right or wrong, it will he so, dear Marian ; how can it be otherwise ? " " Do you remember the terms of our agreement ? " asked Marian, in a low voice. " I have too good reason to remember ! " said Allei\, rather bitterly. " Do not remind me of the cruel resolve. If you go away, there will be less chance than ever of my becoming what you wish." " No, Allen ; perhaps not — without you forget me." " Do you think I can do that ? No, Marian, that is impossible. There is not a word you have spoken that I shall not remember." " Remember all that is good, dear Allen, I only ask that. Remember all I have said of the readiness, the willingness of Jesus to save ; remember my little Bible, for I gave it to you. You will read it, dear Allen ? " THE OPPOSITION PABTt. 197 There were tears in the tone that uttered the entreaty. Allen clasped her to him, exclaiming in an unsteady voice, — " Anything you wish, dearest." " Oh ! but not only for my sake ; for your own, dear Allen. Look for yourself, and find how sweet a thing it is to be a Christian." " Anything, dear Marian ;" and they walked on silently for a long while without speaking, till at last they stood side by side beneath the old white gum, on the other side of the slip-panel. The soft breeze was in- creasing now, and sUghtly moaned among the branches, and one or two clouds flitted slowly across the fair face of the moon. " And how long is this state of things to last, dear Marian ? " at length Allen suddenly exclaimed, taking both her hands, and looking into the sweet face up- turned to his. '* When are you coming back to the homestead ? " Her eyes fell under his beseeching glance, " When you can rightly claim me, dear Allen, — when our agreement is fulfilled," she answered, in an almost inaudible voice. CHAPTER XXIV. JULIE ALONE WITH THE 8TAB8, "No unregarded 8tar Contracts its light Into so Rroall a character, Removed far from our htrman sight. But if we steadfast look. We shall discern In it, as in some holy book, How man may heavenly knowledge learn." EvENiNO once again, and an evening calm and beau- tiful as the last ; but the homestead is not the same — some of its brightness is gone. There is one sweet face missing in the sitting-room, in the music-room, in the kitchen — everywhere. The whole household has a sense of shadow resting upon it ; even the servants miss that gentle happy smile and cheerful word. Yes ; certainly a change has come over the household. Marian has really gone, and her absence, though so recent, has fallen heavily upon all she has left behind her. The " little light " has been shining clear and bright, though she knew it not ; and it still shone in memory and influence, it still did its silent work. Allen for worlds would not have encountered that JTJLIE ALONE WITH THE STARS. 19y first dull day at home. He had suddenly discovered that his previous journey could no longer he delayed. His way lay partly along the road Grenville and his cousin had to traverse ; at least, he made it do so. He rode several miles with them on their journey ; and when he did part, it was because he could give no further reason for proceeding. A silent pressure of hands, and looks more eloquent than words, were all their farewell ; after that, Allen's horse might well have comprehended, had he been capable of doing so, that sudden throwing off of rein, the sharp prick of the spur, which hastened him back for miles ; for they had passed the right road a full hour before. Allen was flying from his trouble, or seeking to do 60 ; but was it in a right direction ? Alas ! no ; for he sought it in excitement, \^hilst in the shadow of " the great Rock " it is alone to be found. At present there was only bitterness and rebellion in his heart. All soft, humble feeUng was gone. He felt the discipline hard ; the ride had no softening influence. Like Paul, he kicked against the pricks ; but he only suffered more deeply for it. How certainly true arc the sweet words of the sacred poet, who says, — " Law and terrors only harden. All the time they work alone ; But a sense of blood-bought pardon. That dissolves a heart of stone." At present Allen could only see the rod ; ne discerned not Him who appointeth it, nor the reason for its appointment. 200 JtlLiE ALONE WITH tHE STARS. What a sight would that be to the Christian ; if attainable in this world — a view of the road already- traversed, visibly ponrtrayed, with all those little way- marks of trial and trouble, and the cause for each clearly discernible ! The cause ? Love — ^love ! pure and perfect love ! and all leading to one glorious end — the upward progress of the pilgrim. But are there not now many Hill Mizars from which the Christian may contemplate his past footsteps ? And can he not, as on a pencilled map, place his finger on tMs or that passage of history, and say, " Here God met me in the furnace, it is true ; but I can now see how lovingly that furnace was appointed, how carefully it was watched, that the fire should not be heated one whit beyond my strength." Perhaps, of all in the homestead, Allen of course excepted, Julie felt most alone. Marian to her had long been as a dear elder sister, her daily companion in all her employments and pleasures ; now she had no one. Bessie was too much the romp, too wild to have the least sympathy for quiet pursuits. In her own little heart she had the greatest contempt for both work and books. It grieved her not at all to throw these on one side; she could now race Rover and Hec- tor at her own sweet will. She could chase butterflies in their wildest flight, with her hair streaming to the wind, and her frock tucked up to her waist. Or she could go and dabble barefooted in the creek for hours together, fishing for crawfish, with morsels of meat tied to a string, and feel certain of but little JtrtlE AtOifE Witfi THE STAttS. 201 rebuke. The question is, dearly as she loved her governess, whether there was not a little secret glad- ness in the corner of her heart, that for a time at least she was free again — free to be as wild as she chose. But with Julie it was different. She was so quiet, 60 gentle, so thoughtful, of such delicate constitution. Before Marian came to the homestead, Allen was the only one who at all understood her. Many of her thoughts and feelings, be it remembered, were of his formation ; but there had been a beautiful ingrafting, a careful pruning since, and the tender plant had learnt to expand in the beams of the Sun of Right- eousness — had received into its bosom the soft dews from on high, l^o all who now suiTounded her she was only more incomprehensible than ever. She wandered about the house, pale and spiritless, that first sad, unhappy day ; her heart was longing after Marian ; it was following the travellers on their way to Adelaide. " I almost wish I had let that poor child go," ejaculated Mrs. Burton, as Julie wandered listlessly through the room from the garden that evening, and laying aside her hat, went into the lonely music- room. " She do seem lost, ma'am ! " replied Maggie, look- ing after her with tears in her kind, grey eyes. She herself keenly missed the sunny smile and encou- raging word of the young governess. ** Yes, I am almost sorry; but I did it for the best. 202 JULIE ALONE WITH THE StAllS. I was afraid of that dusty Adelaide ; and harvest will be coming on, and then it would have been impossible to fetch her had it been wanted ever so much. It can't be helped ! " and Mrs. Burton sighed. " Adelaide is a nasty, dusty place," sighed Maggie, thoughtfully ; " I never heered any one in these parts as liked it, except Croaky Jimmy, and he boasts of being a Lunnoner — not much of a boast either if all the folks there are like him. When will Miss Her- bert be home again, ma'am ? " " I don't know, Maggie, I hope before very long," replied Mrs. Burton, passing out of the room ; and she sighed again, for Allen's last look, so despairing, at least so sorrowful, had puzzled her, and disturbed her sleep f ; r many nights after. He had not even confided in his mother, he was too reserved for that, and kept his own counsel and his own sorrow. Julie had the music-room and her griefs all alone that evening, she had not even her brother to sympa- thize with her. She felt, indeed, as if everything she loved was gone. Her first impulse on entering the room was to heap up the pillows of the couch and throw herself down upon them. The moon had found its way there before her ; it was now sending a long, silvery beam across the room to the couch — just where it had fallen an evening or two before, only the curtains were now lifted higher and drawn farther back, and the sky was so clear that the bright, full face of the moon had not one shadow across it. It /f