My Dear!

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 39, 23 December 1893, Page 5

My Dear!

(Specially written for the Southern Cross.)

(By W. S. Bain.)

‘ She’s a nice-looking girl, Amy/ ‘Muriel’s a very pretty girl, Will.’ ‘ All right, Si's; bat a little bit absurd, you know ; very romantic, and so condescending about “the trading classes.” By George !’ and Will laughed heartily, ‘ Gottingen to Nelson is a flight, and no mistake! ‘She is lather high-strung,’ his wife responded, somewhat anxiously ; then, in a brighter tone— but she s very affectionate. Just see her with the hoys ! And they’re all in love with her, down to baby !’ ‘Right they are, the young buffers! But I "must be off. There’s Sampson with the sorrel.’ ‘ Is it Julia or Jemima P’ Mrs Howard queried. ‘ All depends. Both, if the blooming weather would hold fine. Ta-ta, •wife; take care of yourself;’ and with the accustomed kiss he was gone. ‘Oh, that dreadful mustering!’ the little woman thought ; but she had learned to simulate an easy-minded-ness she could not attain to —for ‘ Will hates fuss !’ So she -went to see that baby was still soundly sleeping, gave some injunctions to her treasure of a Fanny, and slipped by back ways in the direction her sister and the' children had taken an hour before. After a while she was guided by shouts and shrieks of delight, and, rounding a rocky bluff, came in view of four figures wildly careering down the breakneck spur, yclept ‘ the bullock track.’ First—always first! — her seven-year-old Willie, then Muriel Grey, then podgy Lance, then the indomitable Geoff barely three bound like Lance, to go whithersoever Willie led. ‘ You terrible people!’ she exclaimed, as they tore down upon her, one after the other. ‘ It’s lovely, Sis ; perfectly lovely !’ laughed Muriel, when she regained breath. ‘ Come on, Mum ; you run too!’ cried the boys, trying to drag her uphill. ‘I couldn’t run like that; but perhaps I could climb the Sugar Loaf this afternoon.’ And she looked across to the perfect cone -which raised itself in all the dignitv of isolation, dwarfed as it was by the prodigious ranges on every hand. ‘ You’ve promised to take us there, Willie.’ ‘ Follow me, Mum. You follow me, Auntie Muriel; you’lFbe all right if you follow me!’ exhorted the little lad, arranging his cow-boy more precisely as his father wore his, picking up ins alpenstock, and setting forth with his best imitation of the long swinging step he admired the most. ‘ Follow me, Mum, and Aunty Muriel; you'll be right ! ’oo’ll be wite !’ echoed the chicks in emulation of thair hero. And there were the sagest counsels to steer this or that way, and the manliest self-repressions when mischance occurred to themselves, all of the trio condoling when ‘Mum’ slipped from a blackhead or ‘ Auntie ’ floundered in a spongy moss. When at last they neared the summit the children excitedly rushed for the top, and there stood waving their floppy hats. ‘Hurry up! hurry up !’ they cried frantically ; ‘ and you’ll see Dad getting round Mount jemima !’ The sharp young eyes had caught the last possible glimpse of the mustering party as it proceeded along the sinuosities of the valley' which separated the grizzly Jemima from the gruesome Julia. Mrs Howard glanced from her husband’s disappearing form to the riven sides of the mountains and sighed. Geoffrey laid his soft little hand on hers, while just then a sudden deluge of sunshine glorified the laud. ‘Beautiful! beautiful!’ exclaimed Muriel; ‘ I shall never tire of this scenery —majestic always, and capable of such swift, delightful change ! The Arun glitters like the burnished links

of a silver chain flung by Thbr himself between those ranges! The slopes are smitten with gladness ! Each ascending crest shimmers in a greater joy ! Oh! the excellence of those peaks that pierce the blue ! And here beneath us on the river side the rata positively burns with rapture ! Oh ! and words failing - her, the girl burst into melody sweet and clear. ‘ Whose music is that ?’ smilingly asked her sister. ‘ Music P’ she said, ‘ was I singing P Ah, Sis, life is so beautiful!’ ‘ Don’t you miss a piano very much ?’ Amy questioned her. ‘ And Will says we shall never have one here. Nine miles of pack horses over such passes! Didn’t they terrify you ?’ ‘ Hullo, hullo!’ interrupted the boys,. ‘Mr Stuart’s coming! Hooray! That’s his black horse —look, Mum!’ and looking down stream as she was bidden, Mrs Howard discerned the family friend and favourite enter the homestead paddocks. ‘ Fie is such a nice fellow,’ she explained as they hurried back, ‘ and so good-natured ! I shouldn’t wonder if his shearing is nearly done, and he has come in to Arundel to help Will. We are often the last in New Zealand to get through ; this beautiful scenery of ours is the roughest sheep run in all the world I do believe, and the weather is often so broken. But Will enjoys it with all the toil and hardship—he says he wouldn’t exchange with anyone.’ ‘And I admire him for that and for everything else,’ cried the girl. ‘He is a Howard of the Howards, Sissy mine. But of course you never could have manned a plebeian !’ ‘ Oh, I don’t know, dear, that I ever thought of that —’ Mrs Howardbegan, but Muriel petrified her with a very incredulous ‘Amy!’ while the boys gave vent to fresh shouts of gladness—‘He’s coming ! he’s coming to meet us !’ and ere long ‘ our next door neighbor —only thirty miles distant ’ —-was introduced to the tall, graceful girl. He was bronzed and somewhat massive, with a quiet, high-bred air that Mrs Howard noticed with fresh interest. ‘ Not quite done,’ he answered her, ‘ but 1 give my manager a free hand sometimes; Green likes it. You have arrived in time for a New Zealand Christmas, Miss Grey.’ ‘ But she’ll find it dull with Will away,’ Mrs Howard added to her sister’s rejoinder. ‘ls he taking Julia first? I’ll go along to-night and see what luck Howard’s having.’ Accordingly the visitor rode away in the soft lingering twilight, returning with Will the following Thursday night —Christmas Eve. ‘ We’ve had first-rate weather and a grand muster ; best we’ve had yet,’ reported Will. ‘ You’ve brought good fortune, Muriel, yet we can’t even eat Christmas pudding with you. That’s too bad !’ ‘ Let us look forward to our next merry Christmas,’ said she gaily; ‘ Sis and I have made your pudding, anyhow. It has boiled this live long day!’ The pudding and other delectables formed a gratifying addition to the preparations of Dan, the cook at the nine-mile shed, and the men —a temperance crew, happily—were heard to declare that it was ‘ a jolly sight better workin’ on sich tucker than boozin’ on Christmas Day!’ The drafting and shearing - went on famously, and by and bye, as the strain relaxed, the ladies were enabled to visit the scene of operations. Then followed camping excursions, sometimes including all but. baby. Once they penetrated to the foot of the Tasman range, another time they dallied up the Waiau to the Spensers. Halcyon days! ‘ Roy’s in for it, poor old chap!’ Will said to his wife. ‘He told me he sighted her with his field glass that day the children took us up the Sugar Loaf,’ Amy replied. ‘ She ’was standing on the topmost rock—(‘Apostrophising ?’ Will interjected)—and Mr Stuart said, sir, she looked so charming - , he felt that instant he was coming to his fate!’

But Muriel was unconscious of all but an exuberant happiness, and in the intervals between those outings used to write the most brightly descriptive letters to her German friends. Perhaps her favourite themes were Baby and Geoff. She loved to tell how Baby, on the sole occasion of his visiting abroad (a deserted garden patch) wanted to use the young weka,s as he did the poor little ducklings at home: tried to lift and hug them to his loving breast —■ strangulatory overtures which the queerly familiar fledglings astutely declined; or how Geoff—forbidden to put his hands on his mother’s pansies in his pet mischief — was found with some of the rarest blooms, and justified himself because he had ‘ dot ’em wiv his mouf !’ Mr Stuart entreated a trip to Lochleven while the glorious season lasted, and the sisters rode away with him on the goat-footed horses which inspired security in the most avvkward places. ‘How is it that,’ asked Muriel as they filed along 1 the bottom of a terrific chasm, ‘ impressed as I was by the naked horrors of those tremendous masses when first I saw them nightmare accumulations of cinders and ashes they seemed to me, the ruins of a planet, more awful than anything in Dante—l scarcely trouble to look up at them now, 1 am so charmed by the gurgling brook and the veronicas abounding at our feet?’ ‘You are braver than I am,’ Amy said. ‘ I fear I never shall get over my horror of those cruel precipices.’ ‘ Who was it that drove the bullocks in to Arundel last spring ?’ Boy inquired. ‘ Oh, I just rode behind them, and thought “ What shall I do if they go off the track !” ’ ‘ One of the pluckiest things I ever heard of!’ he declared, turning* in the saddle to bare his chestnut curls before her. After another hour the ridges began to widen out, and the next valley brought them in view of a gem-like lake, sparkling* with millions of facets in the palpitating sunshine. Clumps of silver birch festooned with blushing mistletoe, kowhai, and young - groves of "weeping willow, graced its margin; here and there among their reedy nests swans serenely floated; further out some paradise ducks and a pair of grebe were seen ; while at the base of the now gently undulating ranges all aglow amid roses and flowering* shrubs—the homestead cosily nestled. Emerging so suddenly from the sombre gorges, Muriel thought the loveliness of Lochleven eclipsed all she had seen yet. When they "were rested and refreshed Mr Stuart asked the ladies to see his ‘ latest fad.’ ‘ A piano !, exclaimed Amy, delightedly. ‘ The first on this side of the Amuri! Ah, Muriel! I have longed to hear the playing your professor wrote us about!’ The girl struck some rich resonant chords, then rippled off into reminiscences of the sublime masters. ‘ Have you a favourite amongst them ?’ Roy asked her after a time. ‘ Oh, yes; above all, Wagner! And you ?’ ‘ Whatever you play I like best. Also I should like to hear you sing*.’ ‘ But I do not remember songs as I do pieces,’ she objected ‘ The song I heard you sing to Geoff in the tent,’ he sugggested. ‘ That is but the chant of a peasant maiden.’ ‘lt is simple ; but a very pleasingmelody,’ Amy said ; so Muriel sang— My dear, my dear, And O ! my dear ! Tm weary without you — I wish you were here. The sun is not splendid. The flowers are not sweet, — I listen and hear not The sound of your feet. I gaze on the mountains — More distant than they ! I turn to the river — Life fleeting away ! And mirth and rejoicing Are pain to my ear; I joy in you only, My dear ! My dear !

Roy’s mellow bass notes joined •with the rich contralto in the closingwords, • and their vibration made; Amy feel an approaching crisis. Somewhat desperately she asked, questions regarding the portraits on the walls of ‘ the den.’ ‘ That is my mother, whom 1 donot remember,’ she was answered; ‘ and this is my-father’s latest.’ ‘ Does your father live in New Zealand ?’ inquired Muriel. . ‘He lives in Adelaide,’ smilingly replied Ro3'. ‘ I can’t get him to quit his business there. Pie’s so used tohis shop, he says, that he won’t give; it up.’ (‘ Alas ! alas !’ thought Amy.) Other remarks followed, but to the' mere onlooker the situation became more and more embarrassing. Sheloved those two very dearly, and she feared. At last she said she would, stroll out and look for Will, who had. promised to ride along later in the day so as to escort the sisters homenext morning. She admired thegarden with the manager’s wife, wondering’ heavily the while ; then Roy brought Muriel out and proposed, to row them on the lake till Mr Howard should come. A pleasant evening followed, Muriel playing exquisitely and Will resuscitating his old bravura songs. But when the ladies retired, Roy said hoarsely : ‘ I’ve had a facer, old man !’ ‘ What ! has Muriel ?’ 4 Your sister-in-law has refused me.. I think of knocking about on the other side for a while joining someexpedition. A fellow must let off steam somehow. Just say good-bye-to them for me, will you, when you get back ; and drop me a line now and then? The Adelaide address will do.’ ‘ But you won’t really be off right away !’ expostulated Will in dismay. “ Off to-morrow, nothing else forit!’ ‘ Puss !’ ejaculated Will with some choler. ‘ I could almost wish she had stayed with those musty barons and baronesses rather.’ ‘ She is the sweetest woman in the world, Howard!’ ‘ Bar one, sonny !’ and the two men looked in each other’s eyes with strong respect and liking. * * # =;s= * It was the Avettest of summers, and. influenza had invaded Arundel. Will had held the disease at bay as long as possible —Avorse for him, perhaps, as he was hoav utterly prostrate. The boys had all been ill—Willie still bordered on delirium. Most fortunately the sisters had escaped, and Amy devoted herself to her husband, thankful that Muriel could superintend the children’s room. ‘ I shall nev r er be able to tell you hoio thankful I am, Muriel dear,” she would say, trusting that Muriel’s strength and her OAvn would bear them through their dreadful anxieties. ‘ ISToble,. beautiful, girl,’ she thought, ‘ hoAV she comforts me !’ And Muriel ?. When she mused on herself at all it Avas with strangely mingled feelings. Her false and foolish prejudices were but an outworn garment now, like the dresses of her G-erman school girl period. Carlyle, Ruskin, Robert Burns, she had read during these past months, and in her enlarged womanhood she had learned the worth of true manhood. ‘ Out next Merry Christmas /’ she inwardly sighed one afternoon, ‘ ay, then and ?row !’ For Christmas Eve had come round, again, and she had been listening sadly enough to the mutterings of poor Willie —‘It’s right, Mr Stuart, we’ll shoAV Auntie Muriel Avhere themountain lily grows. Auntie ! Mr . . Stuart . . says . . . says . . . you mountain . . lily.’ She had,sent aAvay two of the convalescents Who had stolen in to ask if Willie would soon be better, they were looking so piti fully at the aimless hands groping and the altered lips moaning for mountain lilies. How relieved sheAvas when the disquiet ceased, and, breathing naturally, Willie slept in peace at last. She took the good news to Amy, who fancied Will had ‘ got the turn,’ too. Then she went

to the kitchen where Pickles —erstwhile Baby—was governing l Fanny — Mrs Sampson now —to his own content. ‘ Where are the hoys ?’ she asked, but Fanny had been in the dairy and had not seen them. ‘ Pitty Powers,’ said the child. ‘ Pitty Powers poor Willie.’ ‘Where, darling?’ asked Muriel, with a sinking heart. He toddled to the door and pointed to the range that rose from the back of the house. “Do everything you can. Keep ■ all quiet!’ Muriel adjured Fanny, and like a mad thing sped away to the mountain track. A heavy mist had begun to creep down the slopes, and she cried wildly to arrest those brave little feet — ‘Coo-ee! coo-ee!’ she called again and again. Then she ran up another spur, but, fearing to go in a wrong direction, stopped to call with all her strength,, and listened tremblingly for ■any response. Then came reply, but in a man’s voice, from below. 4 Coo-ee!’ was shouted, and nearer — quickly nearer —‘coo-ee.’ She turned to see —Boy Stuart! His eyes were .gleaming, but he spoke verv quietly. ‘ Fanny has told me,’ he said. * You stay here.’ He drew her to the shelter of a great rock, wrapped his ulster around her, and was gone. She was too dazed to know how long she waited there ; but when, through the -ever-thickening' fog, she heard cheery voices, and at last saw the stalwart figure leading Lance and bearing Greoff astride his shoulders, her whole nature flamed into love, and pride, and gratitude. She stood erect —her hands outstretched —greeting him — ‘ Roy ! 0 Roy /’ He placed Geoff on the track, and folded her in his arms. ‘My dear! My dear!’ he murmured over her. And on that wild mountain side the soul of the universe revealed itself anew. * # * * * Mr Howard declared he was quite well the moment he knew Roy was in the house, and Willie, too, wanted to get up directly. They were welcomed back to the family hearth next day—Christmas Day ■ — the happiest of happy Christmas Days. The little boys, none the worse of their escapade, had most to say and some stringent promises to make besides; while Pickles claimed his share of glorification. By and bye Hoy told Will and Amy that Muriel would not think of leaving them while there was any danger of influenza recurring. ‘ But from all I hear of the pest,’ he continued, ’ there’s every danger for months or years ahead, unless the system is renovated by a thorough change. Kow I propose a flitting for six months or a year or two years, to a ■different climate.’ ‘ Sampson and Green are good men,’ Will debated. • ‘Ho better in Hew Zealand. And the hands are picked lots.’ Will thought it could be done, and Amy haertil} r assented : ‘ Where shall we go ?’ Roy asked Muriel. ‘ I should like Adelaide best,’ was the answer, soft and low, from those lovely lijos ; and the benedictions which perfect love alone bestows pervaded the whole circle.