A STORY OF THE EARLY DAYS OF THE OTAGO GOLDFIELDS.

Tuapeka Times, Volume V, Issue 259, 16 January 1873, Page 9

A STORY OF THE EARLY DAYS OF THE OTAGO GOLDFIELDS.

By William Baldwin.

Chapter XVIII. — ks Eventful Ride.^ Just at first, and forjsome time after their arrival, it will be readily imagined the Fitzherberts had to put tip with, many discomforts, and no small amount of inconvenience in their new home. Ie was a rough life — it was a rough one at all events for gently nurtured girls, but there was a freshness and novelty about it that made the roughness not only bearable, but even attractive, more especially in these early days; and then in a very short time, things began to improve. In a very short time the presence of the ladies began to make itself visible. Nameless little comforts grew up all around, and the thousand and one odds and ends that women turn deftly to such, good account, were being used to some purpose by the two sisters and Rebecca Tonks. They had been only a few months living on the place when Christmas came around; but when it did come, the place wore a trim tidy look that was scarcely to be expected under the circumstances. They were a happy and united family as they sat /ots& to their Christmas dinner, in this ' new home of theirs. And they were all there together — all then in the colony, at least — Henry included. Henry and Tom Hungerford had ridden up together from Waitahuna a day or two previously, and Tom, as a matter of course, had been invited to join the family circle, and had, equally ! as a matter of course, accepted the invitation. It was a pleasant, merry, social gathering, and everyone admitted its pleasantness 3 at all events, Tom Hungerford made the admission to himself, and that more than once, as he galloped homewards that night in the bright moonlight. The only member of the party, not wholly pleased perhaps, was Bertha Fitzherbert. Bertha had observed during the evening, or thought she had observed that in Tom's manner towards her sister that had taken away much of the pleasure she would otherwise have felt, and given her food for much anxious thought. Not that she disliked Tom ; on the contrary, indeed, he was a special favorite of hers ; but the fact of his being so, made her all the more anxious on his acconnt. Had it been possible for her to wefcome him into the family as a brother, the welcome accorded him as far as she was concerned, would have been warm and affectionate. But it was not possible he could make good his footing in any such brotherly way, nay, indeed, it was impossible he could do so. seeing that her sister was already engaged. It mattered little that in her heart of hearts, Bertha had disapproved of this engagement, or that the affair stood in anything but a satisfactory position just then. It was an engagement nevertheless, and, therefore, anything in the shape of an attachment on Tom Hungerfords part for her sister could only be productive of unhappiness to him, and uoght to be put a stop to, somehow or another, at once. This engagement bad taken place on their way out to New Zealand, and requires but a few words in the way of explanation. Amongst the fellow passengers of the Fitzherberts, there was a Mr. «son, a lieutenant of the 70th ent, then quartered at Aucka pleasant agreeable young fellow, who did much to while away the tedium of a long sea voyage. Thrown daily into Nelly's company, the '" natural result followed. They became engaged, but not for some time would Colonel Fitzherbert sanction the engagement. Young Stevenson had very little to depend upon — not more than two hundred a-year at the outside — besides his pay and the father felt, naturally enough, that under the circumstances, he would not be consulting his daughter's welfare were he "• ttrsanction such an engagement. At length, however, after urgent entreaties, he yielded to this extent, that if they both so desired it, he would give his consent to their union at the end of a year, provided Stevenson had obtained in the meantime his expected company. There * was thus an uncertainty attached to the-affair, that made any reference to the engagement undesirable on the part of the family, and in this way had it come to pa&s that Tom Hungerford was ignorant of it. But Bertha determined within herself this ignorance of his should not continue much longer. She would avail herself, she resolved, of the very first opportunity that presented itself to place him in possession of the facts of the case ; meantime she would not let the morrow pass without saying a word or two of caution to Nelly also. The opportunity for «aying these few words of caution to Nelly presented itself the following morning ; but, for reasons shortly to be explained, no such opportunity ever arose, as far as Tom Hungerford was concerned — at least, when the opportunity did arise, no necessity for any ' reference of the kind was needed. " I wish you would come out with us, Berthau It is such a beautiful day, • and I am quite sure a ride would do you all "the good in the world. Do come." The two sisters were sitting

together; Nelly, dressed in her habit, was waiting for her brother Henry, with whom she was going out for a ride ; and Bertha was busy about some household arrangements. The younger sister looked very pretty, prettier even than usual ; so fresh, and fair, and piquant, and bright, and sunny, and instinct with life. Her figure, lithe and active, but fully developed, showed to full advantage in her close-fitting habit — the most becoming dress, I take it, a pretty woman can wear. The bright sunbeams played joyously through the wavy masses of her glorious golden hair, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with animation and anticipated pleasure. Truly a fair sight to look upon, in the first flush of her beauty, and in the pride of her young girlhood. "Do come, Bertha," she repeated. " No, dear, not to-day. It's very hot, and you know how terribly the heat knocks me up." "You overworked yourself yesterday. What a pleasant day it was though. I don't know when I ever enjoyed a Christmas Day more. It was so nice having Henry with us, and Mr. Hungerford was very pleasant, don't you think so ? " ."Yes, dear, I think he was," answered Bertha, slowly and seriously. The opportunity had come for speaking to Nelly about Tom, and she paused, thinking what words she might best use on the occasion. " Nelly, dear," she said, breaking the pauße, " I hope you won't be angry, if I say something to you." The girl looked up quickly into her elder sister's face. " What is it, Bertha?" she asked. "Why, you look as grave as a judge. Angry ? of course I won't be angry." " Well, dear, I could not help thinking last night that Mr. Hungerford is begiuning to like you better than he ought — better, at least, than may be good for him." " Mr. Hungerford like me better than he ought ! " repeated Nelly, a flush suffusing her face. "What makes you think that ? He has been always very kind and. friendly to us all, but not more so to me than anybody else. I am quite sure you are mistaken, Bertha." " I hope I am, but I really don't think so ; at all events, I thought you would not mind my saying a word ortwo about the matter. You see, Nelly, he knows nothing of your engagement, ! and it is only natural he should grow to like you. I don't blame you, dearest; but I think it just as well to put you on your guard for Mr. Hungerford's sake. You don't misunderstand me ? " " I understand you perfectly, Bertha. You think I ought to be more staid and circumspect when Mr. Hungerford is by, and perhaps you are right," she added demurely. " I know lam very giddy and thoughtless ; but 1 will try to behave better for the future. My goodness, but there's Henry calling, and I must be off," and she went out of the room, mounted her horse, and rode off with her brother. She rode along by his side silent and thoughtful. Had Bertha any good grounds for the statement she had made ? Did Tom Hungerford in truth entertain for her warmer feelings than those of friendship ? These were the questions she kept asking herself. If so, if her sister were right, it was certainly very wrong, and somebody or another was greatly to blame. But who was this somebody ? Why, manifestly she herself. But what had she done ? She looked back, thinking of that first evening she had met Tom, and of those other meetings that had taken place since then ; but she could not call to mind one single word of his to herself that might not be proclaimed aloud from the housetops. He had always been very nice, and kind, and pleasant to her ; soft, and smooth, and deferential in his words and ways, and she certainly did like him — like him very much — so Bhe told herself, but only as a friend. Surely there was nothing wrong, nothing unmaidenly, nothing immodest in this ; nothing to sully that maiden troth she had plighted to her lover. And yet ; and yet she was not wholly satisfied with herself either. In the inmost recesses of her heart there was a lurking consciousness that all was not right; that there had been a warmth in Tom's manner to her, a brightness in his glance, and pressures of her hand by him that betokened something more than an excess of friendship. Yes; Bertha wa\,undoubtedly right in speaEing to her those words of warning. She would be more careful and cautious for the future. And Tom Hungerford, what of him ? What if he really were attached to her ? What if she should be the cause of bringing misery and unhappiness on bis future life ? He was not to blame, seeing that he knew nothing of her engagement. And he was so good, and honest, and generous — good as gold and honest as the day ; it Certainly would be grievous^to her — grievous beyond all words — if she should be the innocent cause of bringing upon Tiim aught of trouble and sorrow. She earnestly hoped and prayed that it might' not be so ; but, even if it were, she must do her duty, j JFizt justitiam ruat ceolum. Yes; though the heavens should fall she must do her duty. j

"I say, Nell, old girl," said her brother affectionately, noticing her abstraction, '■ what makes you so down in the mouth ? Tou have not had bad news from Auckland, have you? I

hope there's nothing wrong with James. When did you last hear from him?" "I have not heard from him for some time, Henry. When ho last wrote he was going up to the Waikato. I feel rather low spirited, but I'll soon get over it." " Let us have a good gallop, Nell. Nothing like a gallop to put one into good spirits." "Here comes Hungerford," said Henry suddenly, as Tom rose the crest of a ridge close by them. " I say, Fitzherbert," he said, after ] he had pulled up and greeted Nelly warmly, "we're in for some fun. I passed a wild dog five minutes ago up the flat. Come along and set Harold on him ; I see he's with you." They set off at once, tearing along the Teviot Flat at full speed, and before long caught sight of the object of their pursuit. The wild dog, however, was some distance off, and had got well into the ranges before the kangaroo hound could get near him, and as the ground was too rough for Nelly, she pulled up to await their return. Tom seeing this, turned back to remain with her, whilst Henry, with shouts of encouragement to Harold, carried on the chase alone. Nelly did all Bhe could, using sush words and arguments as came to her aid in the spur of the moment, to induce Tom to go on after her brother, but it is needless to say her words and arguments were all in vain. What, leave her there all alone by herself ! He could not, he said, think for a moment of doing anything of the kind. " Besides," he continued, " the probability is your brother will work his way homewards by the head of the Teviot." " But I could find my way home by myself. I wish you had gone on with Henry, Mr. Hungerford. Could you not still overtake him ? It is such a shame to deprive you of your sport," she added, by way of excuse. " You surely are not serious " be said, looking at her. " You surely do not imagine I would prefer riding after a wild dog to being with you ? Why lam never so happy as when I am near you." " You must not speak like that Mr. Hungerford. You must not indeed. If you do I will ride home by myself. I declare I will." "You're not angry with me are you?" he asked appealingly. "You know I would not willingly say a single word that could give you annoyance." " I am not angry, but I shall be if you speak to me like that again ; but I think we had better be moving houie," and she forced her horse into a swift canter to prevent further conversation if possible.