OUR XMAS STORIES 1894

Southern Cross, Volume 2, Issue 39, 22 December 1894, Page 7

OUR XMAS STORIES 1894

[By Linda.] ♦

IHii Mp ' No. 1 ,A TRICK, & HOW WE PLAYED IT. [Specially Written for the Southern Cross] .

Twist ye, twine ye ! Even so Mingle shades of joy and woe", Hope, and fear, and peace and strife, In the thread of human life. —Scott. In no spot on earth do the beautifying effects of sunshine more •emphatically declare themselves than in the small seaport town of Campbelltown, or the Bluff as it is more often called. Generally speaking, it is ■a commonplace little town enough, but when old King Sol throws a glint across the water, turning its ripples into millions of diamonds, and touches with gold the huge grey rocks and out-lying hills, the tranformation is as marvellous as it is beautiful. We arrived from Melbourne by the ‘ Manapouri ’ on a fine summer day, when everything was at its brightest, and 1 thought how lovely it all looked —the busy scene on the pier, the hills in the distance dotted over with picturesque cottages, the restless, everchanging ocean, and above all the glorious clear blue sky melting away into soft purple mist where it met the horizon. Even my fellow-passengers allowed that it was ‘not so bad for the Bluff,’ which was equivalent to the highest praise, coming, as it did from a band of Victorians who had evidently made up their minds to scorn everything they saw in New Zealand, and who had frequently, on the way over, made merry at the expense of our port, calling it the fag end of creation, and by many other terms of derision. The Bluff has no high standard of reputation to live up to, and consequently can afford to be tolerant and smiling or gloomy and morose as it pleases. On this particular day it smiled broadly; and looking around on the calm lonely beach I thought —‘ What a suitable place this would be to write a story in. Out on those grand old rocks, with the mighty ocean at one’s very feet, one could do great things.’ Lofty thoughts would surely come to one with such magnificent surroundings, sol decided to come here some fine day and write something which would startle the world. Acting upon this determination, a few weeks later I left Invercargill by an early train, and about an hour afterwards found myself at the Bluff, with a large supply of paper and unlimited faith in the grand ideas about to be transferred to it. I seated myself on my ideal seat between two large rocks—this same seat, by the way, was not so comfortable as it looked —then I took out my writing materials and waited for inspiration. Somehow it didn’t come. The only distinct feeling I was sensible of was laziness, which, it alarmed me to think, was gradually approaching sleepiness. Yes, there was no doubt about it, I was actually dozing! Here, then, was a pretty state of things ! I had travelled about seventeen miles in search of inspiration, and now I was ignominiously going to sleep without having written a line ! It was no use. Try as I might, 1 could not keep awake. The last thing I remember was thinking how delightful the swish of the water sounded and wondering how long it would be before it reached the rock I was lying on. I must have been asleep for

some time when I was awakened by the sound of voices on the other side of the boulder I had propped myself up against. ‘ What a nuisance,’ I thought. ‘ If they see me they will think I’ve been listening. Goodness knows how long they have been there. I had better sit still—-perhaps they will go away presently.’ So I closed my eyes and tried to close my ears by thinking hard about the grand things I had intended to write, but they all seemed flat and stupid, and in spite of myself I began to speculate about the people the voices belonged to. Presently they appeared to move nearer to where I was, and now it was quite impossible for me not to hear what they were saying. To add to the awkwardness of the situation the girl—for the voices were those of a girl and a man was crying as if her heart would break. ‘ Oh Tom, what shall I do, what shall 1 do ?’ she sobbed. ‘Don’t cry so, Buthie, dear; please don’t. Things will come right yet; so don’t cry, my darling.’ ‘ How can I help it! This was our last chance and in ten minutes it will have gone. I promised to sit on the rocks for a quarter of an hour, and then go back to the boat.’ ‘ Suppose we go right round that point, you could go first and I could follow, and stay there till the boat has sailed,’ suggested the man’s voice. ‘lt would be no use. Father would stay too; besides I promised to go back. Oh, Tom what shall Ido ?’ ‘ You mustn’t marry him, Buthie—mind, nothing is to alter that. I will put on that wig and beard and travel with you and we must trust to luck when we get to Melbourne, but no matter what happens you must be true to me, dearest.’ ‘You know 1 will, Tom,’she answered in a firmer tone. While this conversation was going on I was wondering what I should do. I could not even stand up without their seeing me, so that to slip away quietly was impossible. Besides I was becoming interested in these young people who were in such evident distress, so I came to the conclusion that the best thing to be done waste make myself visible to them, and then apologise for being an unwilling listener. Screwing up my courage, I coughed gently and stood up. The girl gave a little scream and the man, whose back was towards me, turned quickly and sprang to his feet. ‘ I’m very sorry,’ I said. ‘ I was asleep on this side of the rock, and I am ashamed to say heard a good deal of the latter part of your conversation.’ ‘lt doesn’t matter. We are too miserable to care much about anything,’ said the girl, whose eyes were red with weeping, and whose general appearance was woebegone in the extreme. ‘My father is taking me to Melbourne to try and make me marry a horrid old man, whom I detest, and Tom disguised himself, and came from in the same boat.’ ‘ She’s engaged to me,’ said Tom, ‘ but she will not be twenty-one for over a week, so her father is hurrying matters,’ and a dark scowl disfigured the young fellow’s handsome face. ‘ There’s one thing,’ he said, brightening up, ! You can say No — can’t you Buthie ?’ ‘ Yes, and I will, too,’ she answered, looking up into his face. ‘ I shall go on saying ‘ No,’ if I say nothing else —just no ! no ! ! no !!! He can’t very well misunderstand that, but oh, it makes me so wretched when father gets angry with me and tells me I’m a disobedient, undutiful child,’ and she covered her face with her hands and looked the picture of misery. ‘ Couldn’t you give him the slip here,’ I asked. ‘Then you could go up to Invercargill by the late train, and he would be on his way to Melbourne.’ ‘ It is impossible,’ said the girl, despairingly. ‘We have thought of that. My father will be looking for me now, and he will certainly not sail without me.’

While she was speaking I noticed that she wore a rather startling cloak of peacock blue material. ‘And she’s not unlike me, I thought; except that she is so much younger, and then an idea, the daring of which nearly took away my breath, flashed like lightning through my brain. ‘l’ve a good mind to try it,’ I thought. ‘ Stand up and let me see-how tall you are.’ She looked at me in surprise, but stood up. ‘ Yes, I thought so,’ I said, smiling at her puzzled look. ‘ Now, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. But first of all are you quite resolved that nothing shall separate you ? This is a very serious matter, you know.’ I read my answer in the two eager young faces. ‘Yes, quite !’ they answered almost simultaneously. ‘ Well, I continued, ‘ you lend me your cloak and hat, and I’ll go on board with your father. If I muffle my face in this shawl he will think I am you.’ ‘ But how will you get back ?’ said Ruth. ‘ Oh, I’ll manage to slip off before the boat sails,’ I answered with a confidence I was far from feeling. ‘Will you really risk it?’ said Ruth. ‘ Then you are the dearest woman in the whole world. Tom and I will just stay here together. Oh, it is too good to be true,’ and she laughed nervously. ‘ You are veiy much alike,’ said Tom, looking critically from the one to the other of us. ‘ Yes,’ I answered, ‘ and that long cloak and muffler will hide a multitude of differences. I’ll tell the old gentleman Tve got toothache. What is he like, by the way ? It will not do for me not to know my own father.’

‘ Oh. he’s coming l , ’ cried Ruth in an agony of fear. Crouch down, Tom, or he’ll see us. ‘ Give me the cloak and hat, and then it will not matter if he does. At this distance he will think I am you, and seeing two people whom he thinks are strangers will not trouble him.’ I drew Ruth’s long cloak around me, and was satisfied to find it covered my thin form completely. When I had put on the hat and covered up my face, Tom said—- ‘ It is just grand. How cheer up, Ruthie. We said some good luck would come our way when we got to the Bluff.’ The trembling girl clung to him half-sobbing and half-laughing. ‘ How can we ever thank you for undertaking so much for us —and you a stranger, too,’ said Tom, turning to me with a look of straightforward gratitude in his clear grey eyes. ‘ By wishing me success,’ I laughed. ‘ He is getting very near,’ said Ruth, peeping round the side of her umbrella. ‘Very well, I had better go and meet him before he gets any nearer,’ and I rose slowly to my feet, feeling horribly nervous and rather concerned as to what Jim would say. However, what I had i undertaken I must go through with —besides it would be a shame to marry that dear little girl to a man whom she disliked, ruining her life, and probably Tom’s. I felt as if they were old friends, and took quite a motherly interest in the young people. I walked slowly along the road towards the town, with my face buried in the muffler and my umbrella, or rather Ruth’s (for we had changed) held well down on the side I intended the old gentleman to walk. He was fairly in view now —a stout, pompouslooking, well-dressed man, with a very red face, and an expression which was far from being amiable. ‘ Hurry up !’ he called out in a loud strident voice. ‘We shall miss, the boat through your fooling. Whatever made you stay so long ?’ I hurried on without answering. ‘ What’s the matter with you ?’ he asked sharply. ‘ Why have you got

that thing' round your face on a day like this ?’ ‘ Toothache,’ I answered, N and my heart beat so fast that it almost suffocated me. Would he notice that my voice was strange ? No, apparently not. Then I was seized with a horrible dread lest he should go on asking questions. ‘ If he does,* I thought, ‘ I am sure to be discovered, and then poor little Ruthie —how disappointed she will be !’ Greatly to my relief he began ta talk at me, and this required no answering. ‘You’ve been crying* your eyes out, and are ashamed to show your face, that’s about the size of it,’ he said angrily. • ‘ And the young blackguard you are breaking your heart about 'is carrying on with that girl Brown ali the time. I know Tom Logan ! He’s very probably married to her by now, and laughing at you for being such a fool as to believe in him.’ I felt inclined to say —‘That’s all you know about it, my portly friend,’ but I refrained, thinking— ‘ This is one of the cases where silence is golden.’ Fortunately his chief anxiety was to reach the boat before she sailed, and he tore along, puffing and perspiring with the unaccustomed exercise. ‘ There’s one comfort in our being so late,’ I reflected. ‘ In his hurry he will be less likely to notice anything unusual.’ While we stumbled along over the uneven planks of the pier, the second blast and two whistles sounded the first had gone some time before. By the time we reached the boat the third blast was sounding, and the men were just about to take up the gangway. I was obliged to go quietly on board, for to rouse suspicion now w T ould ruin everything, but a sickening horror came over me as I thought ‘ Supposing the boat starts and I cannot get back! Jim will think I have been washed off the rocks and drowned! Those young people on the beach do not even know my name ! My poor little children will be heart-broken when bed-time comes!’ I cannot describe the agony of thought which was crowded into those few minutes. I went as quickly as I dared down the companion way, keeping a sharp look out to see that the old gentleman did not follow me ; and, rushing into the open door of the nearest cabin, I tore off Ruth’s cloak and hat and snatching up a tweed travelling cap belonging to one of the passengers, I appropriated it, and made my way back. All the time I was trying to persuade myself that the boat was not moving that it was my imagination which made me think she was. When 1 reached the deck we were several yards from the wharf. 1 rushed frantically up to one of the crew, and begged him to help me to get on shore. He called to some one else, who passed the word on. Presently, to my great relief, the huge vessel moved slowly back to the pier. They put down the gangway and helped me across. How I blessed those men—they didn’t even grumble over it. I put my purse into the hand of the one nearest to me, and told him how very sorry I was to have given them so much trouble. The man looked up with a goodnatured grin, and went on with his work. I felt relieved to see that Ruth’s father had settled himself comfortably in his deck chair, and looked as if he ■would stay there for some considerable time. Evidently that run had tired him out. I am afraid I chuckled wickedly when I thought what a nice old how-do-you-do there would be when he found he had left Ruth behind. We went up to Invercargill by the evening train. Dear little Ruth, who was brimming over with joy and gratitude, I brought home with me. As good luck would have it Jim had gone into the country for a fortnight, and all the information I thought necessary to give the remainder of the household was that my friend Miss Colvin had come by the northern boat. We spent a few very pleasant, quiet days together, we three, waiting until the requisite time elapsed, and then.

we walked up to the church one fine morning, when everything was fresh and sweet, after a night of steady rain, and Tom and Ruth took that solemn vow which, alas! is often held so lightly. In the afternoon they started by the Dunedin tram on their way home, perfectly happy and full of loving trust in each other. Ruthie had told me all her little She and Tom. had been brought up in the same neighbourhood, and had grown so fond of each other that nothing could be more cruel than the attempt to separate them. All had gone well with them until old “ Toddles,” as she called him, had come upon the scene and wanted to marry her. Then her troubles began. Her father, who was not a bad man, but who, like so many other misguided mortals, looked upon the possession of wealth as the chief thing to be desired, insisted that Mr Todd, with his unlimited means, was the man most fitted to be her husband. When he found that nothing would induce her to give Tom up, be ordered her to pack up some clothes and go with him to Melbourne, giving her to understand that as soon as it was possible after they landed she was to marry !Mr Todd. This made Tom desperate, so he determined to go too and run off with her if no other way out of the difficulty presented itself. * And then you, dear, you came to the rescue, and saved us no end of misery,’ she said, throwing her arms round me. In a letter written a month or two after her marriage, Ruthie told me that her father had made what Tom forcibly described as a ‘ dickens of a row,’ but that he was getting over his disappointment, and was to spend Christmas Day with her and Tom in their pretty little home. We learned later that the bulk of Mr Todd’s money was locked up in a bank which had suspended payment, so perhaps that reconciled old Mr Colvin to the trick we played him that bright summer day when I went to the Bluff in search of inspiration, and found myself taking part in a living drama instead.