LOVE AT THE GOLD FIELDS.

Patea Mail, Volume VIII, Issue 1044, 8 June 1883, Page 4

LOVE AT THE GOLD FIELDS.

'■ LITERATURE.

By B. L. Farjeon. The long voyage is at an end. Through storm and tempest and summer air, over mountainous and placid seas, the good ship has ploughed her way in darkness and light, with black cloud frowning and blue -skies smiling on her. Her bulwarks; like a warrior’s shield, hear up,oh them the marks of many a gallant fight; she is now at rest, safe in her haven, with five hundred and forty souls aboard, all well. Success and good fortune to them ! Not steel but gold the magnet. They have come thousands

upon thousands of miles, have broken up their homes, have left parents, children, friends, behind them in the old land, to seek their fortune in the new. The gold coast is in view. They see the reflection of the precibus treasure in the western skies, where the sun ,is setting, Stalwart men, ready to dare and dp. Some yonhg, some middle-aged, some feeding on dreams of fair faces far away, some who would have beeh happy to dip in the Lethean waters, and forget for ever, the troublous past. They cluster on the deck, and gaze, eagerly> before them. The future is beautiful with glad hope. What do these two among this eager expectant throng ? An old woman, with hair of snow; and a yonng maid in her spring time. Deep anxions furrows are in the old woman’s fa'ce, whose age is little short of seventy ; a wistful expression is ever on her lips, which move now and then, as though she is speaking silently to her heart. She looks forward, ns the others do, to the distant goldland, and,; piercihg beyond it, beholds a handsome brown-bearded man running forward to meet her, to press her in.his arms, to kiss and fondle her, as she kissed and fondled him in the sweet

young days of childhood. . Tears, of joy roll down her wasted cheeks, and she twines ; her fingers convulsively. The young girl; whose face is also pale, aaity girl, whose life until now has been passed where white faces grow—stands by the old woman’s side, and smiles as she gazes npon the coast line, and then upwards at the glowing skies. A few yards from them a young man leans against the bulwarks, whistling softly to himself the old-fashioned air, ‘-Let us haste to Kelvin Grove, Bonnie Lassie, 0!’ The girl listens, almost unconsciously, to the music—for the young man whistles very sweetly—and presently, when the air *is whistled through, her smile becomes imbued with something of a spiritual tenderness at the sound of a voice at her side. ‘ Our voyage has come to an end.’

Yes, said the girl, with a hair .sign. ‘Are yon glad ?’ : ‘ I don’t know.’ ‘Try to know—-to please me.’ The girl makes an effort to think, but any distinct mental process is not in her way just now. She is swayed by feeling and impulse, and youth favours the condition; ‘ In one way, I am glad/ she says, in another sorry.’ ‘ Yet you do not like the sea ?’ ‘ No; 1 think it is dreadful.’ ‘ Then, properly,, you should be all glad,*and not a Bit sorry that’our voyage is at end.’ ‘Perhaps I am,’ she says archly. ‘Or,’ she adds quickly, apprehensive that her meaning may be understood, ‘ perhaps I don’t' know my own mind.’ ‘ For my part/ says the man, ‘ I am free to confess that when- I stepped aboard at Gravesend .1 was filled with dismal forebodings. Three months on a sailing vessel, surrounded by strangers, was a dreary look-out. If I could only go to sleep, ’ 1 thought, and wake up when Melbourne was reached, what a blessing it would be. But I did not know then that you were aboard.’ - ‘ What difference could that make ?’ she asks, looking at him in assumed wonder; ‘ I .don’t want anybody to, hear,’ he aswers;; i" r ‘ May I whisper it : ?’ ‘Yesi’ ' She inclines her bead a little towards him, and the next moment she feels npon her pretty ear the touch of bis lips. She bldshes crimson; j f ‘lf that is the way y6u wliisperj you must' always spfeak' very loud' : to me for the future/ she ; says. ‘ Are yon angry with me V ; ‘ I don’t know.’ 1 Try to know—to please me.’ !s This repetition of his previous appeal tickles her, and she smiles again. ‘ Ah,’ he says, ‘ you are not angry.’ ‘ You are mistaken—perhaps.’ ‘ There is a simple wsy of proving it,’ he says. * Shall I, whisper it ?’ ‘ Gb, no—say it aloud—but not too loud, please, there are so many people about.’ . * Place your hand in mine.’ She obeys him—readily enough—without suspicion, and even when he retains her hand, and does not speak for full two minutes, she does not conduct herself as if she thinks he has behaved treacherously . towards ...her. Whichever way it is, they island quite contented, hand in hand, in silence—removed, for a time, from the world and its wild throbbings of selfish desires.’ ‘ Elsie/he says, and suddenly adds, ‘may I call yon so ?’ ‘ Yes/ she answers softly.;* * r ‘ Well then. Else. It: is the first time, is it not ?—except that I have said ,to myself a thousand and a thousand .times. -Elsie—Elsie ! It is not new to jme-—not a bit. It mast be an old lesson, that I have known all ray life, and .that I could not live without. You may tell me now. Can I guess the reason why you are sorry the voyage is at an end ?* i He presses her hand, and she returns t lhe pressure; His, firm and manly, but ; not too rough ; hers, a feather-touch, that sets his nerves in a thrill of delight. ‘ Yon were born in• London, Elsie?’ * Yes; and have been there all my life.’ ;/ ;■ ■- - ‘Allyonr life/ he repeats; such a long life. How many years ?’

‘ Eighteen next birthday.’ - • t ‘Yon have no father, Elsie? Bnt ; wait. lam an advocate for fair play. I; scorn to take advantage of yon, though] I doubt whether you have not a giant’s* strength compared with mine, for you; could kill me by speaking one single

word.’ „ . ~ ■., .. * You i 'do’\ puzzle me^V'she says ; sometimes I hardly understand you.’

‘ Ah, Elsie; Elsie ; I am almost afraid to say what is on ray lips and in my heart. But it must be said. Elsie, I love yon.’ ; , She sways towards him in tender agitation. He seeks no other answer. ‘ I may tell you, he continued, ‘ that I am a gentleman’s son, with , no ties at home. 1 came out here to'seek ray fortune. Well, I have found it’—he her closer to him— ‘ a . better fortune than ever I hoped to discover. Yes,, to seek my fortune on; the goldfields, in the shape of the metal, Elsie, that can buy everything but love.’ ‘Ought I to listen to you,?’ she’asks, in the tone of one waking from a dream; ‘yon are a gentleman, and I only a poor girl.’ ‘ Yon are richer than the richest, Elsie—better .than, the best. As ; for a gentleman, that is what one has to prove. 1 said I was a.gentleman’s son. True,enough. My father was a gentleman every inchof him. Once he was rid!—he died poor. My mother went before him, and I was an only child. For months =-1 tried, to get a living, bnt —would you believe it a gentleman’s son stood i.n 7 my way. lam strong, Elsie,' and might' have taken to stone-breaking, but I .couldn’t quite Stand that. There is a bit of foolish pride in’ me.; So I made up my mind—hey ! for the new world, where all are „ equal ! , Insignia of equality—ra pick;and shovel. . Strange, Elsie, that I looked on breaking of stones in the old land as a degradation, and that I look on breaking of stones in the new (I may have a chance id a qnartz reef) as a mark of manliness, ~ I am bound for the gold fields, with heart Of hope and two hundred pounds in sovereigns for stock-in-trade. Ah, and my daddy’s old watch as well—ticking in my waistcoat pocket. May it never be reduced do another kind of tick! There, Elsie, you have my story in little. Do you love the? Say yes—to please me I’ ‘ Yes.’

‘ Soft ns a bulteifly’s breath—clear as the bell in oiir old country churchsweet as the fragrance in the hedges round about our family estate—mortgaged beyond redemption, I am afraid, to a fat man, who wallows, not dabbles, in stocks. God bless you, Elsie. I will be true to you. But lam a greedy fellow, and am not yet quite satisfied. Say these words, ‘ I love yon, Charlie .Raeburn.’

She rallied a little; she was moved by tenderness as * deep’ as his; she canghi the spirit of his sprightliness. ‘ Just to please,you V . ‘Yes, Elsie, my heart, say just to p]ea,se, me, I; love, you, Charlie.’, - • ‘1 love yon, Charlie.’ A silence of many minutes. Swiftly changed the colours in the western skies; the crimsons of the setting sun, bright, strong, and transparent as molten gold, dipped and were lost to sight in the calm, gray sea. A lovely, peaceful light overflowed the heavens like a holy wave, sweeter thanlhe glare of grander colour, moving to happy tears and worship. Elsie’s eyes were moist arid luminous, and a song of praise - was ; in her heart. -In Rkeburn’s also. His; kii honest, eafhest nature, worthy.. l! of trust and love.: 7 And the old woman, with the furrowed, anxions face, standing by their side.?; Not a word did she hear of the conversation »between the ; lovers,. She was living m a world of dreams. ‘ And now to come back, Elsie,’ said Raeburn; ‘ you know all about me worth the knowing. I know that your father died when you were a child., Then, had you never,a sister ?’ . , . ■ ;. ’ ‘No.’ (To he continued.)