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diff --git a/40659-0.txt b/40659-0.txt index f2fd18c..3340e3f 100644 --- a/40659-0.txt +++ b/40659-0.txt @@ -1,4 +1,4 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40659 *** +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40659 *** MATERFAMILIAS @@ -6193,5 +6193,4 @@ THE END. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Materfamilias, by Ada Cambridge - *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40659 *** diff --git a/40659-8.txt b/40659-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b11cb47..0000000 --- a/40659-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6584 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Materfamilias, by Ada Cambridge - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Materfamilias - -Author: Ada Cambridge - -Release Date: September 4, 2012 [EBook #40659] - -Language: NU - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATERFAMILIAS *** - - - - -Produced by Clare Graham, Laura McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images graciously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - -MATERFAMILIAS - -BY - -ADA CAMBRIDGE - -AUTHOR OF - -THE THREE MISS KINGS, A MARRIAGE CEREMONY, - -MY GUARDIAN, NOT ALL IN VAIN, FIDELIS, - -A LITTLE MINX, ETC. - - -NEW YORK - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - -1898 - - - - -CONTENTS. - - I.--THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL - II.--IN THE EARLY DAYS - III.--A PAGE OF LIFE - IV.--THE BROKEN CIRCLE - V.--A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING - VI.--DEPOSED - VII.--A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT - VIII.--THE SILVER WEDDING - IX.--GRANDMAMMA - X.--VINDICATED - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL. - - -My father in England married a second time when I was about eighteen. -She was my governess. - -Mother herself had engaged her, and I believe had asked, when dying, -that she would remain to take care of us; and I don't say that she was -not a good woman. She had been nearly five years in the house, and we -had the habit of looking to her for advice in all family concerns; and -certainly she took great pains with my education. But of course I was -not going to stand seeing her put in mother's place. I told father so. -I said to him, kindly, but firmly: "Father, you will have to choose -between us. There will not be room under this roof for both." - -He chose her. Consequently I left my home, though they both tried hard -to prevent it, and to reconcile me to their new arrangements. I will say -that for them. In fact, my father, pleading legal rights, forbade me to -go, except for some temporary visiting. I went on the understanding that -I was to return in a couple of months or so. But I was resolved not to -return, and I never did. While staying with my uncle, a medical man, I -privately married his assistant--one (if I may say so) of a -miscellaneous assortment of admirers. I am afraid I encouraged him to -propose an elopement; I certainly hastened its accomplishment. Then -after all our plottings and stratagems, when at last I had the ring on -my finger, I wrote to inform father of what he and Miss Coleman had -driven me to. Poor old father! It was a tremendous blow to him. But I -don't know why he should have made such a fuss about it, seeing that he -had done the same--practically the same--himself. - -It was a greater disaster to me than to him, or to anybody--even to my -husband, who almost from the first regarded me as a millstone about his -neck; for _he_ could go away and enjoy himself when he liked, forgetting -that I existed. Indeed, it was a horrible catastrophe. When my own -children are so anxious to get married while they are still but -children, and think it so cruel of me to thwart them, I wish I could -tell them what I went through at their age! But I don't mention it. I -promised Tom I never would. - -At twenty I was teaching for a living--I, who had been so petted and -coddled, hardly allowed to do a hand's turn for myself! My husband was -travelling about the world as a ship's doctor. Father wanted me to come -home, but I was too proud for that. Besides, I would not go where I had -to hear Edward insulted. After all, he was my husband, and our -matrimonial troubles were entirely our own concern. Not from him, -either, would I accept anything after I was able to earn for myself. I -taught at a school for thirty pounds a year, and managed to make that -do. It was a wretched life. - -I was barely of age when the news came that Edward had caught fever -somewhere and been left in a Melbourne hospital by his ship, which was -returning without him. At once I made up my mind that it was my duty as -a wife to go to him. He had no friends in Australia, and not much money; -it was pathetic to think of him alone and helpless amongst utter -strangers; and I thought that if I did this for him he would remember it -afterwards, and be kind to me, and help me to make our married life a -little more like other people's. In those days there was no cable across -the world, and mails but once a month; so that when I started I was -altogether in the dark as to what I was going to. The first news of his -illness--with no particulars, except that it was fever--was all I ever -had. - -I would not ask my father for money. Indeed, he would have frustrated -my purpose altogether had he known of it in time. I went to my old -godmother, Aunt Kate, who was very rich and fond of me, and begged the -loan of fifty pounds, not telling her what I wanted it for. She gave the -money outright, with another fifty added to it; so that I had plenty to -cover the cost of a comfortable voyage. I determined, however, to save -on the voyage all I could, that I might have something in my pocket on -landing, when funds would be sorely needed. To which end I engaged my -berth in the humblest passenger-boat available--Tom's little Racer, of -ever-beloved memory. They told me at the office that she was better than -her name--faster than many that were twice her size. I was young and -silly enough to believe them, and also to forget that by the time I -reached Australia Edward's illness would have long been a thing of the -past, and he perhaps back in England or well on his way thither. - -If the Racer was one of the smallest ships in the Australian trade, her -master, Thomas Braye, must have been one of the youngest captains. At -that time he was under thirty, though he did not look it, being a big -man, quiet and grave in manner, deeply sensible of his professional -responsibilities. I remember thinking him rather rough and decidedly -plain when I saw him first; but he was gentleness and gentlemanliness -incarnate, and I never afterwards thought of his appearance except to -note the physical inadequacy of other men beside him. - -He has told me since that _his_ first feeling on seeing _me_ was one of -strong annoyance. Though a married woman and going out to my husband, I -was but a young girl in fact--far too young and far too pretty (though I -say it) to be travelling as I was, without an escort. It unfortunately -happened that I was the only lady in the saloon, and that the ship was -too small to have a stewardess. Three wives of artisans herded with -their husbands and children in the black hole they called the steerage, -and one of them was summoned aft as soon as we were in the river to keep -me company. But as the others were disagreeable about it, and she was a -coarse and dirty creature, I myself begged Captain Braye to send her -back again. Poor Tom! By the way, I did not call him Tom then, of -course; I did not even know his Christian name. He says he never -undertook a job so unwillingly as he did that job of taking care of me. -How absurd it seems--now! - -We sailed in late autumn, in the twilight of the afternoon. I remember -the look of the Thames as we were towed down--the low, cold sky, the -slate-coloured mist, with mere shadows of shores and ships just looming -through it. Nothing could have been more dreary. And yet I enjoyed it. -The feeling that I was free of that horrible schoolroom, and that still -more horrible lodging-house, where I cooked meals over an etna on a -painted washstand, and ate them as I sat on a straw-stuffed bed--the -prospect of long rest from the squalid scramble that life had become, -from all-day work that had tired me to death--oh, no one can understand -what luxury that was! Besides, I had hopes of the future, based on -Edward's convalescence and reform, to buoy me up. And then I loved the -sea. People are born to love it, or not to love it; it is a thing -innate, like genius, never to be acquired, and never to be lost, under -any circumstances. When the Channel opened out, and the long swell began -to lift and roll, I knew that I was in my native element, though a -dweller inland from birth up to this moment. The feel of the buoyant -deck and of the pure salt wind was like wings to soul and body. - -But I had to pay my footing first. It came upon me suddenly, in the -midst of my raptures, and I staggered below, and cast myself, dressed as -I was, upon my bunk. Never, never had I felt so utterly forsaken! When -ill before, with my little, trivial complaints, Miss Coleman had waited -on me hand and foot--everybody had coddled me; now I was overwhelmed in -unspeakable agonies, and nobody cared. It is true that--though I would -not have her--the steerage woman came in the middle of the night; and -once I roused from a merciful snatch of sleep to find my bracket lamp -alight where all had been darkness. These things indicated that some one -was concerned about me--Tom, of course--but I did not realize it then. I -was alone in my misery, alone in the wide world, of no consequence even -to my own husband; and I wished I was dead. - -Early in the morning--it was a rough morning, and we were in a heavy, -wintry sea--the captain tapped at my door. I was too deadly ill even to -answer him; so he turned the handle and looked in. Seeing that I was -dressed, he advanced with a firm step, and, standing over me, said, in -the same voice with which he ordered the sailors to do things-- - -"Mrs. Filmer, you must come up on deck." - -I merely shook my head. I was powerless to lift a finger. - -"Oh, yes, you must. You will feel ever so much better in the air." - -"I can't," I wailed, and closed my eyes. I believe the tears were -running down my face. - -He stood for a minute in silence. I felt him looking at me. Then he -said, with a kindness in his voice that made me shake with sobs-- - -"I'll go and rig up a chair or something for you. Be ready for me when I -come back in ten minutes. If you can't walk, we will carry you." - -He departed, and the steerage woman arrived, very sulky. I was obliged -to accept her help this time. Captain Braye, I felt, did not mean to be -defied, and it was a physical impossibility for me to make a toilet for -myself. When he returned he brought the steward with him, and, before I -knew it, he had whisked a big rug round and round me, and taken me up in -his arms. I weighed about seven stone, and he is the strongest man I -know. The steward carried my feet, but it was a mere pretense of -carrying; he was only there as a sort of chaperon, because Tom was so -absurdly particular. Up on the poop, with the ship violently rolling -and pitching, the man could not keep his own feet, and let mine go, and -we did not miss him. Tom bore me safely and easily, like a Blondin with -his pole, to where he had fixed a folding-chair for me--it was his own -chair, for I had not been able to afford one--and there he set me down, -in the midst of pillows and an opossum rug, with that sort of powerful -gentleness which is the manliest thing I know. All at once he made me -feel that I was in shelter and at rest. As long as I remained on that -ship I could cease fighting with the difficulties of my lot. He would -take care of me. There are women who don't want men to take care of -them--I am not one of those; I have no vocation for independence. - -I found I could not sit in that chair, luxurious as it was. I think all -my worries and hard work and bad meals must have undermined me. Even -though Tom made me drink brandy and water, I could not hold myself up. - -"Oh," I sighed wretchedly, "I feel so faint and swimmy, I _must_ lie -down!" - -"So you shall," he answered, like a kind father, and he shouted to the -steward to bring up a mattress and pillows. In five minutes there was a -bed on the deck floor, and I was in it, swathed in fur and blankets, -like a chrysalis in its cocoon, more absolutely comfortable than I had -ever been in my life. I still felt ill and exhausted, and could not bear -the thought of food; but I breathed the sweet, cold, reviving air, and -yet was as warm as a toast, and no spray or rain could touch me. When he -had tucked me up to his satisfaction, placing his oilskins over all, he -took some rope and lashed me to the bars of the hen-coops behind me. And -there I lay all day, resting and dozing. No matter how the ship rolled, -it could not roll me out of my nest; being so secure, I felt the motion -to be soothing rather than the reverse. When not asleep, I gazed at the -pure sky and the gleaming tiers of sails, listened to the voices of the -wind and of the sea, and watched the stalwart figure of my dear -commander. At short intervals he would come over to ask if I was all -right; and at least once an hour he brought something with him--brandy -and water or strong broth--and fed me with it out of a spoon. Oh, Tom! -Tom! And I had almost forgotten what it was like to be tended and cared -for in that way. - -In a day or two I was well enough to walk about the ship and occupy -myself, and he was more reserved with me again. But still I always knew -that he was keeping guard over my comings and goings, and I felt as safe -as possible. His officers and my fellow saloon-passengers--none of them -gentlemen like him--were too much interested in my movements after I -began to move, and his eye seemed always upon them. Now and then I was -embarrassed and annoyed, and at such moments he quietly stepped in to -relieve me, never making a fuss, but promptly putting people back into -their proper places. At the first hint of trouble of this sort he had a -spare cabin turned into a little sitting-room for me--my boudoir, he -called it--where I might always retire when I wanted privacy. I found it -a comfort at times, but still my sleeping-berth would have done almost -as well; for I never wanted any visitor but him, and he never asked to -come. When it was weather for it, I lived on the poop in his -folding-chair--always lashed ready for me--and that's where I preferred -to be. Even when not weather for it, I often begged to stay, for the -support of his company; and sometimes, but not always, he would allow me -to do so, making me fast with ropes, and surrounding me with a screen of -tarpaulin. For hours I would lie, like a cradled baby, and watch his -gallant figure and his alert eyes, and listen to his steady tramp, as he -went up and down. I had no fear of anything while he was there, and he -seemed always there. I learned afterwards how terribly he deprived -himself of rest and sleep because of his responsibility for the safety -of us all. - -For the Racer was an ancient vessel of the tramp description, little -fitted to do battle with such storms as we encountered. Her old timbers -creaked and groaned, as if in their last agony, when buffeted by the -heavy seas; and the way she took in water at the pores, without actually -springing leaks, was dreadful. The clacking of the pumps and the gushing -of the inexhaustible stream seemed always in one's ears, and when waves -broke over her and drained down through a stove-in skylight, of course -it was far worse--even dangerous. She simply wallowed about like a log, -too heavy and lumbering to get out of the way of anything. I could not -bear to see Tom's stern and haggard face, to know the strain he was -enduring, and that I could do nothing to lighten it; but as for -_danger_--I never thought of such a thing! Not that I am at all a -courageous person, as a rule. - -I believe we were somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Cape when the -most noteworthy of our experiences befell us. We were struggling with -the chronic "dirty" weather--absurd adjective for a thing so majestic -and inspiring!--and I was on deck, firmly tied to my chair, and my -chair to the mast, dry under oilskins, and only my face exposed to wind -and spray, which threatened to take the skin off. I could hardly see the -length of the ship through the spindrift of the gale, and the way it -shrieked in the rigging was like fiends let loose. Bee--a--utiful! - -And Tom wanted to spoil all my pleasure by shutting me down in a nasty, -stuffy, smelly, pitch-dark cabin, where I couldn't breathe and shouldn't -know anything that went on, nor have a soul to speak to. However, I was -getting used to him by this time, and so, when he staggered up and -announced that he had come to take me below, because it was no longer -fit for me to be on deck, I told him flatly that I would not go. - -"You must go," said he. - -"I won't go," said I. - -"The captain's commands must be obeyed, Mrs. Filmer." - -"Not in this case, Captain." - -"In every case, Madam." - -"Not a bit of it," I persisted, laughing in his face, which was rather -grim, but yet not quite inflexible. "I am not one of your sailors, to be -ordered about. I shall do what I like. And this is exactly what I like." - -He condescended to argue, and then of course I would not give in. He -said he must use force and carry me, but that was an obviously -impossible thing to do without my assistance, considering the angle of -the decks. When I saw him looking really worried, I condescended to -plead myself, and I suppose he could not resist that. He has told me -since that he never felt the same man after this act of weakness, but -I'm sure I cannot see where the weakness came in. With great difficulty, -and meanwhile flashing anxious glances hither and thither, he got more -rope and made fresh windings and tyings about me. - -"You are a spoilt child," was all he said. He did not look happy, but I -was very pleased with the issue of our encounter. I felt that it had -strengthened my position somehow--taken away all my awe and fear of -him--and I would not have missed my subsequent experiences on deck that -day for anything. - -They were really tremendous. No sooner had I been trussed up like an -Indian baby in preparation for contingencies--no sooner had Tom left me -to give his undivided attention to the ship--than the chronic gale -produced a spasmodic and special one which I am sure was a cyclone of -the first magnitude, though he would not give it that name in the book. -What he called nor'-nor'-east had been the direction of the storm we had -grown used to, but just before he asked me to go below it had shifted to -"nor'," and now it jumped all at once to "sou'-west," with effects upon -the sea and the poor ship that were truly startling. Those wall-sided -mountains of water, that were bad enough to get over when we knew which -way they were going, began a furious dance together, all jumbled up -anyhow; and the first treacherous monster created by the change of wind -crashed bodily inboard quite close to where I sat--"pooped" us, as Tom -expressed it--and, washing over me, simply swept all before it, -including the wheel and the two poor men steering, who were driven upon -rail and rigging with such force as to injure both of them. How my -lashings held as they did I cannot understand--or, rather, I can, of -course--when strong wood was being torn from iron fastenings; and how I -issued alive from that tremendous shower-bath is much more wonderful. It -must have been the packing round me that saved my bones from being -smashed like the boats and hen-coops. I heard Tom's shout of warning -just before I was overwhelmed, and when I emerged, and could expand my -breathless lungs, I answered him, with a strange and joyful lifting of -the heart, "All right! I'm safe! Don't mind me, Captain!" - -If he had minded me at that moment we should have been lost together, -ship and all. She began to broach to, as they call it, and the -supplementary wheel had to be used at once to stop it, and just then our -lives hung upon a hair. The decks were filled to the brim, and I could -hear the deluge thudding down through the shattered skylight upon the -table set for dinner. And she rolled all but bottom upwards, the broken -rail going under and I dangling in air above it, and--and, in short, if -any one but Tom had been her captain she would never have been heard of -from that day. I am quite convinced of that. No man born could have -accomplished what he did--he says, "Nonsense," but I know what I am -talking about--although I was just as sure that _he_ would accomplish it -as I was that the sun would rise next morning. I calmly held on to my -supports, and waited and watched. Sometimes I clenched my teeth and shut -my eyes, while I prayed for his preservation in the perils he did not -seem to see. He called to me at short intervals, "Are you all right?" -and I called back, "All right!" And when the worst was over for the -moment, he scrambled to where I was, and fixed me up afresh. Never shall -I forget the look on his face and the ring in his voice when he spoke to -me. "Brave girl! Brave girl!" I think it was the happiest moment of my -life. - -"But I don't understand it," he said to me, later, when there was time -to breathe and talk. "Why are you not frightened? When you were first on -board, crying because you were seasick----" - -"I did _not_ cry because I was seasick," I indignantly interposed, "but -because I was lonely and miserable. You would have cried if you had been -in my place." - -"I thought," he continued, heedless of the interruption, "that you were -a poor little baby creature, without an ounce of pluck in you. But -you've got the courage of a grenadier. How is it?" - -"It is because I am with you," I answered promptly. - -I don't know what feeling I allowed to get into my voice, but something -struck him. Motionless where he stood, he stared at the great waves -silently, for what seemed a long time; then abruptly walked forward to -give an order, and did not come back. - -We were mostly silent when we were together after that. How hard I tried -to think of a common topic to discuss, and could not! So did he. But -while I had nothing to do but to think, he was terribly preoccupied with -the condition of the ship. She had recovered to a certain extent, and -was able to stagger on again, but she was a living wreck, all splintered -and patched, and the difficulty of keeping the water down was greater -than before. The pumps were always clanking, and the carpenter -hammering, and the sailmaker putting canvas plasters over weak places. -The whole ship's company were glum and weary, and the passengers--wet, -ill-fed, and wretched--complained loudly all the time, indifferent as to -how much they added to the poor captain's cares. He, though firm with -everybody, never lost his temper, or seemed to give way to the -depression that must at times have weighed him down. He was worthy to -command who could so command himself--worthy to be a sailor, which is -the noblest calling in the world. As for me--well, it was no credit to -me that I, of all on board, was satisfied to be there, and consequently -happy. I kept a serene and smiling face to cheer him. It was the least -that I could do. - -And it did cheer him. To my unspeakable comfort I was assured of that, -though he did not say so. I could see it in his face, and hear it in his -voice, when now and then he came to sit beside me, evidently for rest -and peace. - -"And so," he said, on one of these occasions, speaking in an -absent-minded way--"and so you are not nervous with me? Well, I hope I -shall be able to justify your trust." - -"You will," I said calmly. "You could not help it." - -"Heaven knows!" he ejaculated. "The glass is falling again, fast." - -"Never mind the glass. It is always falling." - -"I wouldn't, if I had any sort of proper ship under me. But this----she -isn't fit for women to sail in." - -"If she is good enough for you," I remarked cheerfully, "she is good -enough for me." - -"But she isn't. I don't ask for much--at my age--but I do want a ship of -some sort, not a sieve. Oh, dear! oh, dear!"--looking round him with a -restless sigh--"we shall be months getting to Melbourne at this rate." - -"I don't care," I said, "if we are years." - -He made no comment on this statement, which I blushed to perceive was a -mistake; and I hastened to remind him that Edward's illness must have -been over long ago. Then he began, in an abrupt manner, to ask me how I -thought the passengers were bearing the trial of short rations which he -had been compelled to lay upon them. - -One day we were at great peace, because the weather was beautiful and -the water in the well diminished. A hammock of sailcloth had been made -for me, and slung in a nice place, and I lay there almost the whole day -through, swinging softly with the ship as she soared and dived over -mile-long billows or swayed in the deep beam swells with the airy -motion of a bird upon the wing. The Racer could feel like that at times, -even yet; and I was too happy for speech or thought--that is, in a sad -and pensive fashion. So, I know, was Tom, although he too had no words -and hardly a look for me as he paced to and fro. It was just the -consciousness that I was there--that he was there--permitted to rest -together for an interval from our battle with fate. Even the sight of -his substantial figure, never out of my mind's eye, while my other eyes -saw only the lifting and sinking of the gunwale against the gleaming, -silky sea--even the roar of his strong voice, occasionally using -"language" in a professional way--could not take away the sense as of an -enchanted world enveloping us, as if we were disembodied spirits in some -heavenly sphere. But I can't describe it. Perhaps the reader -understands. - -The night was lovelier than the day--there was a moon shining--and one -literally _ached_ with the sweetness of it. Each of us was on the way -to bed, and somehow we could not resist the temptation to linger by the -rail a little. The ship was under command of the chief officer, and all -was well for the time. We were alone where we stood. - -Speaking of the change of weather and his late responsibilities, he -said: "If I am ever so unfortunate as to lose the lives committed to me, -I shall just stand still and go down with the ship--when I have done -what I can do." - -"If that should come," I returned, "please don't put me into a boat and -send me off without you. Let me stand still and go down too." - -"Not if there's a chance for the boat," he said. - -We had spoken in a light way, but deep thoughts welled up in us. "Oh," I -broke out--for I had not his self-control--"oh, it would be better than -anything that could happen to me now!" - -All he said to that was "Hush--sh--sh!" but I could not check myself -immediately. - -"I would rather die that way than live--as I must live when I no longer -have you to take care of me!" I wailed, reckless. "Oh, I wish I could! I -wish I could!" - -And indeed I meant it. Even as we went down, I thought, he would keep -the sea monsters from terrifying and devouring me; he would take care of -me, regardless of himself--that was inevitable--until we were both dead. -The fear of death was nothing to the fear of life as it would present -itself at my journey's end. I had _no_ fear of death--with him. - -He laid his broad, brown hand on mine that clutched the rail--a solemn -gesture--and he said, in a shaking voice, "My dear, it's well you remind -me that it's my business to take care of you. We have got our duty to -do, both of us. Come, it's getting late; it's bed time. We mustn't stay -here in the moonlight and let ourselves get foolish." - -Still holding my hand, he led me downstairs. At the door of my cabin he -gave it a great strong squeeze, and then let it go without another -word. He did not kiss me. Oh, true heart! Death to him would have been -infinitely easier than the ordeal I made him suffer through those long -weeks. But he never allowed himself to be overcome. - -It was not long after this that the dreaded moment came when land was -reported. Words cannot describe my terror of the impending change. It -was my only safe haven--my home--from which I was, as I thought, to be -cast out, and I simply dared not imagine what sort of life awaited me. - -The crippled Racer anchored in Hobson's Bay at nightfall. Most of the -passengers went off in boats, and those who rowed to the ship returned -with them. Dressed in walking clothes, I sat in the little cabin that -had been my sitting-room, listening and shivering, trying (with the -example I had before me) to brace myself to meet things as a brave woman -should; but no one came for me. Only Tom. Rather late in the evening, -when all had gone except the steerage woman and her children, with whose -husband and father he had made some business arrangement, the captain -entered my private apartment alone for the first time. There was an -indescribable expression on his face, which had looked so fagged of -late. His eyes did not meet mine. His whole frame trembled like a -girl's. - -"Oh, has he come?" I cried--I believe I almost shrieked. - -"No," said he; "he hasn't come. You'd better go to bed now--go and sleep -if you can--and I'll tell you about it to-morrow." - -"What is it?" I implored. "What has happened? What have you heard? Oh, -tell me now, for pity's sake!" - -He sat down on the little bunk beside me, and took my hand between his -two hands; he did it as a father might do it, to support my weakness -under the shock coming. - -"The fact is, Mrs. Filmer--the fact is, dear--I sent ashore for news. I -thought I'd better make some inquiries first. And--and--and----" - -"I know--I know! He has left the country, and abandoned me again!" - -"No, poor fellow! He died of that illness--six months ago." - -At first I did not understand the meaning of the words. It was an event -that had never entered into my calculations, strange to say. But the -moment I realised the position--it is a dreadful, dreadful thing to -confess, but God knows I never meant any harm--my arms instinctively -went up to Tom's stooping shoulders and, hiding my face in his breast, I -nearly swooned with joy. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -IN THE EARLY DAYS. - - -I was not a girl, but a woman, when I married Tom. He, a man incapable -of grossness in any shape or form, was still a man, healthily natural, -of ripe experience in the ways of men. Whatever our faults in the -past--if they were faults--the result was to teach us what we could -never otherwise have learned, the meaning of wedlock in its last -perfection. Don't let any one run down second marriages to me! The way -to them must necessarily be painful and troubled, and one always desires -passionately to keep one's children out of it; but the end of the -journey, bringing together, open-eyed to all the conditions, educated to -discriminate and understand, two born mates like Tom and me--ah, well! -One mustn't say all one thinks about these matters--except, of course, -to him. - -Talking of being open-eyed, I was so blind at one time as actually to -fancy that he was in no hurry to have me. When I gave him to -understand--hardly knowing what I did--that I should die or something -without him to take care of me, he said he asked nothing better than to -take care of me, God knew, but that how to do it for the best was what -bothered him. It did not bother me in the slightest degree. I depended -on him--only on him of all the world--and I told him so; and yet he -wanted, after _that_, to send me back to my father with some old woman -whom I had never seen, in another ship, while he took the Racer -home--which never would have got home, nor he either. And I a married -woman, independent in my own right, and over twenty-one! However, I -flatly refused to go, except with him, as I had come. He said he would -not trust my life to that rotten tub again, and I said--I forget what I -said; but I hurt his feelings by it; and then I cried bitterly, and -said I would go out and be a housemaid. - -The deadlock was suddenly ended by the Racer being condemned by the -authorities of the port as unfit for sea again. When that happened we -both decided to stay in the new country, and, having him near me, I was -quite content to postpone matrimony until things became a little -settled. It was soon plain enough that he was not anxious to postpone -for the mere sake of doing so; he only wanted a clear understanding with -father first, as well as with his owners, and to give me time for second -thoughts, and for considering the advice of my family. - -It took long for letters to come and go, and I began to be haunted in my -walks by a strange man, who--I suppose--admired me. Tom found this out -on the same day that he accepted an appointment as chief officer with a -Melbourne shipping company. I could not imagine what had happened when -he came to see me at my poor lodging with such a resolute face. - -"Mary," he said, "who's that fellow hanging round outside? I've seen him -several times." - -"Tom," I protested sincerely, "I don't know any more than you do. But he -is a rude man; he stares at me and follows me, and I can't get rid of -him. Of course, he sees that I am----" I was going to say "unprotected," -and hastily substituted "alone," which was not much better. - -"Well, now, look here--I've got a ship, Mary"--he did not pain me with -further explanations on that head; later I wept to think of his -subservient position in that ship--"and this means an income, dear. Not -much, but perhaps enough----" - -"Does it mean that you are going away?" I cried, terrified. - -"Not far. Only for a few days at a time. I start on Friday. This is -Monday." - -He took my hands; he looked into my eyes; I knew him so well that I knew -just what he was going to say. The colour poured into my face, but I -made no mock-modest pretence of being shy or shocked. - -As a preliminary, he questioned me as if I were on trial for my life. -"Answer me _quite_ truthfully, Mary"--he called me Mary before we were -married, but always Polly afterwards--"tell me, on your solemn word of -honour, do you love me--beyond all possible doubt--beyond all chance of -changing or tiring, after it's too late?" - -I told him that I loved him beyond doubt, beyond words, beyond -everything, and should do so, I was absolutely convinced, to my life's -end. I further declared that he knew it as well as I did, and was simply -wasting breath. - -"And you really and truly do wish to marry me, Mary?" - -I attempted to laugh at his tragic gravity and his awkward choice of -words. I said I didn't unless he did, that I wouldn't inconvenience him -or force his inclination for the world. I asked him, plainly, whether he -thought that quite the way to put it. - -"Yes," he said. "For I want to make sure that I--that -circumstances--are not taking advantage of you while you are young and -helpless. And yet how can I be sure?" - -He took my face between his hands and gazed at it, as if he would look -down through my eyes to the bottom of my soul. I shut them after a -moment, and tears began to ooze between the lids at the thought that he -could doubt me. One trickled out and splashed upon his knee, and my -heart began to heave with the impulse to cry in earnest. Then he drew my -face--drew me into his arms, and we sat a little without speaking, -hearing our hearts thump. - -"We'll chance it, shall we?" he whispered between short breaths. "Sooner -or later it must come to that, and better as soon as possible if I have -to leave you in Melbourne alone. You won't be so much alone if you -belong to me, even when I am away--will you, sweetheart?" - -I merely sighed--that kind of long, full, vibrating sigh which means -that your feelings are too deep for words. - -"I think I shall be able to answer to your father--I hope so," he -continued, rallying his constant self-control. "I think I am justified, -Mary. If not----" - -But I would not let him go upon that tack. Justification was absolute, -in my view of the case. I know what the ill-natured reader will say--she -will say that I threw myself at his head, that I forced myself upon him, -that I did not give him a chance to get out of marrying me if he had -wanted to; but that is only because she knows nothing whatever about it. -I cannot explain. I simply state the fact that we had one mind between -us on the matter, and if she doesn't believe me I can't help it. - -"This is Monday," Tom repeated, "and I sail on Friday. If we are going -to do it, Mary, I'd like it done before I leave. There's nothing to wait -for, if we don't wait for the letters, is there?" - -I told him nothing--that I was in his hands; and he proposed that we -should walk out then and there to find some one to "splice" us, as he -appropriately termed it, because it would be so much easier to attend to -all the other business after we were man and wife than before. - -Sailors have a terse way of acting as well as of speaking, and the -change that made life such a different thing for both of us actually -took place that very day as ever was. When the unknown admirer would -have followed young Mrs. Filmer in her evening walk--it was too hot to -go out earlier--there was no such person. Mrs. Braye was dining -delicately at a pleasant seaside hostelry, in the company of her lawful -protector, whose name alone was like a charm to keep his proud wife in -safety. - -We gave ourselves until Wednesday morning. Then we worked all Wednesday -and Thursday, like two navvies, to settle ourselves in the small lodging -that we selected for our first home. We were as poor as poor could be -and had to proceed accordingly, but little I cared for that, or for -anything now that I had him. On Friday afternoon he sailed--a -subordinate on that trumpery intercolonial boat, after being captain and -lord of an English ship--and I cried all night, and counted the hours -all day till he returned, when I went quite daft with joy. Not that much -joy was allowed us, even now, seeing that the greater part of his short -sojourn in port had to be spent on board. But it was wonderful what -value we could cram into the precious minutes when we did get them. -Again we had the agony of parting, the weary interval of separation, the -renewed bliss of the return, continually intensified; and then the -letters came--the letters we had tried, so unsuccessfully, to wait for. -Father desired me to come home for a time--a foregone conclusion--and -Miss Coleman did the same in more impassioned sentences. I daresay it -was heartless, but I laughed and danced with delight to know that it was -all too late for advice of that sort. And, to counteract any possible -feeling of remorse, Aunt Kate wrote in the sweetest way, all fun and -jokes, practically approving and encouraging me in the course I had -taken. To a young woman so situated, she said, fathers were quite -useless and superfluous, and she advised me to please myself, as I had -always done--that was how she put it. Best of all, she sent me a draft -for £500, either to come home with or for a wedding present, as the case -might be. And this precious windfall enabled us to take a little private -house that we could make a proper home of. - - * * * * * - -The worst of being on these small lines is the uncertainty about the -movements of your ship. In winter Tom would run one trip for months, or -suddenly stop in the middle for docking and repairs--a mere excuse for -laying up, I used to say, because trade was not paying expenses--in -which case he would have a holiday without salary, and the pleasure of -his companionship would be marred by anxieties about money. In summer -there were occasional special excursions, "round tours," that kept him -away for a month or six weeks at a time; and these were what I dreaded -most. - -We had not yet had this long separation, but I knew--knew, but would not -admit--there was danger of it when we had been married a little less -than a year. It was our second Australian summer, and the time of all -times when I could not endure to part from him. I had now grown -accustomed to having him at home for a day and a couple of nights -weekly--happily he had a command again, such as it was, and could do as -he liked in port--and that was far, far too little, under the -circumstances. - -He was sleeping late, and I, having prepared his breakfast, sat down by -an open window to read the morning paper until he should appear. As a -matter of course, I _always_ saw the name of our ship before I saw -anything else, even the Births, Marriages, and Deaths; she had her place -in a list of the company's vessels, with her sailing dates, in smallish -print, answering to her comparatively modest rank in life; my eye fell -on the exact spot by instinct in the moment of the page becoming -visible. I suppose it was the same instinct which to-day drew my first -glance to quite another column, where s.s. Bendigo stood in larger type. -My heart jumped and seemed to stop--"Christmas Holiday Excursion to West -Coast of New Zealand, if sufficient inducement offers." There it was! -And I felt I had all along expected it. - -I got up to run to Tom with the news. On second thoughts I decided to -let him have his sleep out before dealing him a blow that would spoil -his rest for many a night to come, and tramped round and round the -breakfast-table, moaning and wringing my hands, asking cruel Fate why -Christmas should be chosen--_this_ Christmas of all times--and how I was -to get through without my husband to take care of me. - -My husband looked most concerned when he saw what I was doing. "Hullo, -Polly, what's up?" was his greeting, as he faced me from the doorway; -and his bright home-look vanished like a lamp blown out. - -I could not speak for the rush of tears. I held out the newspaper, -pointing to the fatal spot, and, when he took it, abandoned myself upon -his shoulder. - -"Oh, Tom--Christmas! _Christmas_, Tom!" - -He read in silence, with an arm round my waist. For a whole minute and -more we heard the clock ticking. Then he cleared his throat, and said -soothingly: "After all, it mayn't come to anything--at any rate, not -till afterwards. People don't care to be away from their homes at -Christmas. It's only an approximate date." - -He was wrong. The postponements that invariably take place at other -times did not occur this time--as if on purpose. The hot weather set in -early, and it seemed that many people did desire to escape, not from it -only, but from the social responsibilities of the so-called festive -season. The Bendigo was a good boat, as everybody knew, and her captain -a great favourite with the travelling public. I don't wonder at it! So -that the passenger list filled rapidly, and every day brought us less -hope of a reprieve. Tom seemed a year older each time that he returned -from the regular voyage, bringing this information, and I know I nearly -drove him mad with my pale face and tear-sodden eyes. One day he told me -so. - -"_What_ am I to do?" he groaned, staring strangely. "How can I leave you -like this? I can't, I can't! and yet, if I don't go, Polly--it is all -our living, my dear----" - -Nothing ever frightened me so much. For _him_ to have that look of -agitation--my strong rock of protection and defence--he who had never -wondered what he was to do, but always knew and did it, while others -wondered--it was too shocking. I pulled myself together immediately. - -"After all," I said, with a gulp and a smile, "the other poor seamen's -wives have to take their chance of this sort of thing, so why not I?" - -"You," he replied, in his fond, stupid way, "are not like the others, my -pretty one." - -He meant that I was far more choice and precious. - -"Being pretty," I rejoined, "is no disadvantage that I know of, having -regard to the present circumstances. Now if I was delicate, then you -_might_ be anxious. Tommy, dear, I can't have you look like that! And -there's no reason in the world why I should not do as well as -possible--as well as everybody else does; indeed, I'm sure I shall. Of -course I shall miss you awfully--awfully"--my cheerful voice quavered in -spite of myself--"but there will be the proper people to look after me, -and--and--_think_ what it will be when you come back again!" - -He had me in his arms now, with my face under his left ear. - -"My brave girl!" he murmured. "My own brave girl!" - -Just as when he called me that before, my heart rose elated. I -determined to deserve the title. - -"Of course you must go," I said firmly; "it is our living, as you say. -No use having a family, and nothing to keep it on, is it? I suppose it -won't be _more_ than a month? A month is soon over. I can send you -telegrams. Don't you worry about me. I'm a wicked idiot to fret and -grumble; it is because you have spoiled me, love! I have got so used to -having you to take care of me----" - -I choked, and burst into fresh tears. - -However, I did manage to keep up very well until he went. Of course he -_had_ to go; we agreed about that. Not much of Aunt Kate's wedding -present was left by this time. We had our little home, all comfortable -and paid for, but his small salary comprised the whole of our current -income. It would never have done to jeopardise that. - -But oh, it was cruel! It _was_ cruel! He says I shall never understand -the agony of his soul when he bade me good-bye, and I tell him he can't -possibly have suffered the thousandth part of what I suffered. We -clasped and kissed as if we never expected to see each other again. I -really don't think we did expect it. And yet I was quite well and -strong, and every possible thing had been done to safeguard me in his -absence. Poor as we were, he made the nurse, who charged three guineas a -week, come into the house before he left it, and engage to stay there -till his return; and he also installed a nice old lady, whose son he had -befriended, and who he thought would be a mother to me when the time of -trial came. So she was; but not even an own mother could have made up -for the want of him. - -"God keep you safe for me," he prayed, as he held me to him, heart to -heart. "And you'll take care of yourself, my Polly. You won't fret, and -make yourself sick and weak--promise that you won't--for my sake!" - -"I won't," I answered him, trying to comfort him; "I will be as good as -possible. We'll _both_ be well and strong--well and happy--to meet you -when you come home again. Tom! Tom! _do_ you realise what the next -home-coming will be? Let us look forward to that." - -So I kept up to the last, to hearten him. The very last was the seeing -the ship go by at nightfall, on her way to sea. I lived where I lived on -purpose to have this view of her as she passed in and out. I watched for -her for an hour, and when she came it was too dark for me to see my -darling on the bridge through the strong glasses he had given me on -purpose that I might see him, and the flutter of his cabin towel against -the black funnel. Nor could he see me in the blue dusk of the shore, -with the evening afterglow behind it. But he sent a farewell toot across -the water, and I pulled the blind to the top of my window, and lit up my -room with every lamp and candle I could find. I knew he was looking, and -that he knew I knew it. We always signalled good-night in this way when -he passed out late. - -So I kept up to the very last. But when I saw his mast-head light go -round the pier, like a bright star in the evening sky, and glide towards -the sea that was to keep him from me so long when I wanted him so -desperately, then I collapsed like a spent bubble, and all my courage -went out of me. I think I fainted there by the window, all of a heap -upon the floor. - -At any rate, his back was hardly turned--he could scarcely have cleared -the Heads, we reckoned--when the catastrophe befell. I have often tried -to imagine what his feelings were when, at his first port of call, the -intelligence was conveyed to him that he had a son, and that mother and -child were doing well. He attempted to express them by letter, but he is -not literary. And he can't gush. All the same, I know--I know! - -Did I say that the happiest moment of my life was when he called me a -brave girl? I was wrong. The happiest moment of my life--even though Tom -was away from me--was the moment when I heard the first cry of my own -child. Words cannot describe the effect on me of that little voice so -suddenly audible, as great an astonishment as if one had never expected -it; but every mother in the world will understand. - -Oh, I am getting maudlin with these reminiscences! I can't help it. - -He was a beautiful boy--my Harry--worthy to be his father's son. We -called him Harry because Henry was Tom's second name, and also that of -my own father, whom I wished to please; for, after all, he was a good -father to me, and I used to think that perhaps I had not been as good a -daughter to him as I might have been. This thought occurred to me when I -had a baby of my own, and wondered how I should feel if, when he was -grown up, he were to take his own wilful way as I had done. It does make -such a difference in one's point of view, with regard to all sorts of -things--having a baby of one's own. For instance, I knew that Miss -Coleman--Mrs. Marsh, I ought to say--had two, and when Aunt Kate told me -I was actually angry about it; it seemed to me that it was just another -impertinence on her part, and that the children were interlopers in my -old home. I could not bear to picture them sitting on father's knee, and -being carried in his arms, filling my place and consoling him for the -loss of me. But now I was quite glad that he had them, and I sympathised -with Miss Coleman. I wished she could come and nurse me now, as she used -to do; how much better we should understand each other! I resolved to -have baby's likeness taken as soon as possible to send home to her, and -to ask her to send me the photos of her little ones in return. I was -convinced, of course, that there would be no comparison between them. -Doubtless hers were nice children enough--father was a particularly -handsome man, in the prime of life--but my baby was really a marvel; -_everybody_ said so. His proportions were perfect, his skin as fine and -pure as could possibly be, his little face too lovely for words, and his -intelligence simply wonderful. Before he was a week old he knew me and -smiled at me. He had Tom's fair hair and straightforward blue eyes---- - -However, I suppose all this is silly. At any rate, the silly fashion is -to call it so. - -It was dreadfully hot upstairs in that venetian-shuttered room, but -still I rallied quickly, and everything went well. The old lady was -indeed a mother to me, the nurse inflexibly conscientious, and my own -little maid like a faithful dog upon the doormat, constantly asking to -look at the baby and to be allowed to hold him. And yet--I know it was -ungrateful to them, but I could not help it--I never felt that I was -properly taken care of, because Tom was not behind them. I pined for -him--oh, _how_ I did pine for him!--happy as I was in every other -respect. While I was still weak, and inclined to be a little feverish, I -fell asleep and dreamed that the Bendigo had been wrecked, and that he -would never come home to see his child. I cannot describe how that dream -frightened me and haunted me--that, and the memory of our last parting, -when we seemed to have had so many forebodings. - -"If I could only go to him!" was my constant thought, knowing that weary -weeks had still to pass before he could return to me, even if his voyage -prospered; and once I put it into words, "If we could only go to him, -Mrs. Parkinson, _what_ wouldn't I give!" - -The old lady patted my shoulder soothingly, and assured me he would be -home in no time, if I would have but a grain of patience; while I had to -reflect that it was impossible to go a-travelling without money. I would -have "given anything" indeed, but I had nothing to give, though Tom had -amply provided for all my wants at home. Moreover, I could only have -left the house, while she was in it, over the dead body of my nurse. I -could manage the old lady, but not her; she was a rock of resolution -where her duty was concerned. - -Suddenly a series of things happened. The old lady had a telegram -summoning her to the sick-bed of her son--the very son that Tom had been -so good to--and flew to him, distracted. Poor old lady! My mother's -heart bled for her. And next day my little maid upset a kettle of -boiling water over the nurse (providentially, when the baby was not in -her arms), and the poor thing had to go to a hospital to have the -scalds dressed. She sent a substitute at once, because it was found that -she was for a few days incapacitated for her work; but I was able to -manage without the substitute. I told her I was now perfectly well--as -in truth I was--and therefore did not require her services. And the day -after that, by the English mail, I had a letter from _dear_ Aunt Kate, -which, when I opened it, shed a bank draft upon the floor. She had heard -that I was going to have a baby, and sent fifty pounds to pay expenses. -A box of baby-clothes, she said, had been despatched by the same ship; -for she didn't suppose I had any money to buy them, or that, if I had, I -could get anything in "that outlandish country" fit for a poor child to -wear. - -I went straight into town and cashed that draft, taking my son with -me--proud to carry him myself, though he nearly dragged my arms off. At -the same time I ascertained at the company's office that the Bendigo was -hourly expected to report herself from Sydney. - -"We will go to Sydney," said I to my little companion, as we travelled -home again, rich and free. "We'll get Martha's mother to come and keep -house until we all return together--with _father_ to take care of us." - -That same night I had a wire from him. He was safe at Sydney, all well; -and would I telegraph immediately to inform him how it was with me? -Would I also write fully and at once, so that he might get the letter -before he left? - -"We will telegraph immediately, to set his dear mind at rest," I said to -the son, who smiled and guggled as if he perfectly understood--and I am -sure he did; "but we won't write fully and at once. We can get to him as -quickly as a letter, and he would rather have us than a million letters. -Oh, what a simply overwhelming surprise we shall give him!" I was so -full of this blissful prospect that I never thought how I might be -embarrassing him in his professional capacity. - -There were no intercolonial railways then, and we could not have stood -the wear and tear of overland travel if there had been. Nor was there -any choice in the matter of sea transport. I was obliged to take the -mail steamer that brought me Aunt Kate's money, for it was the only -vessel going to Sydney that could get me there in time. I had to be very -smart to catch her, and just managed it, leaving my home at the mercy of -a plausible red-nosed charwoman who was all but a perfect stranger to -me. - -Of course I was an idiot--I know that; but, as Tom says, you can't put -old heads on young shoulders, and don't want to; and there is no -occasion to remember things of that sort now. _He_ never blamed me for a -moment, and I am sure I cannot regret what I did, when I weigh the -pleasures of that expedition against what in the end we had to pay for -them. They were richly worth it. - -The voyage, even without the nursemaid whom I did not feel justified in -adding to my other extravagances, not only did me no harm, but really -invigorated me. A new-made mother, I had been informed, was never -sea-sick, and my experience seemed to prove the fact; while as for baby, -in spite of his catching a little cold, which he might have caught at -home, the exquisite sea air must have been better for him than the -gutter smells of Melbourne. He was as good as gold, and the stewardess -was an angel, and we slept like tops all through our two nights on -board. - -It was afternoon when we entered Sydney Harbour--that beautiful harbour -which I had never seen before, but had no eyes for now. All I cared to -look at was my beloved Bendigo, and there she was at her berth, and the -blue-peter was up! When I saw that, I felt quite faint. I ran round the -deck asking everybody when she was expected to leave, and all but those -who did not know said at five o'clock. It was now three. So that, with -other weather, I might have missed her! And Tom would have gone home to -find----Great heavens! But with the misadventures that we did have, -there is no need to count those we didn't. As it chanced, I was in -plenty of time. - -It was nearly four before I could get off the mail boat, and it was -considerably past that hour when I hurried up the gangway of the -Bendigo, panting, and bathed in perspiration--for Sydney is a hot place -in January--looking everywhere for Tom. The second officer, who knew me, -uttered an exclamation as he ran to take my bag from the cabman; and the -way he looked at baby--then asleep, fortunately--was very funny. - -"Oh, Mr. Jones," I cried, "is the captain on board?" - -"No, Mrs. Braye; he's on shore," was the reply, accompanied with violent -blushes. "You must have missed him somehow. Are you--are you going back -with us?" - -"Of course I am," I said, as calmly as I could. "But he does not know it -yet. I had some business in Sydney, and I thought I would give him a -surprise. Don't tell him, please; I will go up to his cabin on the -bridge and wait for him." - -"He may be here any moment," said the young man. And, looking to right -and left in an embarrassed way, he asked if he should call the -stewardess. - -"Not yet," I returned affably. "I will ring when I want her. He will -sleep for a long time. He's such a good baby--not the least little bit -of trouble." And then I turned back the lace handkerchief from the -placid face, and asked Mr. Jones what he thought of that for a month-old -child. - -He said he was no judge, and behaved stupidly. So I left him, and went -up to the bridge, where Tom had a room composed of a bunk and a bay -window, entirely sacred to himself. I don't suppose a baby had ever been -in it, but the pillows and things I found there made a perfect cradle. -As I laid my little one down on his father's bed, I was afraid the -thumping of my heart would jog him awake, but it did not. He sank into -his nest without sound or movement, leaving me free to watch at the -window for Tom's coming. - -It was past five o'clock before he came, and I knew when I saw him why -he was so late. He had been looking for his expected letter up to the -last moment, and had now abandoned hope. I also knew that somebody on -deck had betrayed my secret when I heard the change in his step as he -ran upstairs. Ah--ah! Before I could arrange any plan for my reception -of him I was in his arms. Before either of us could ask questions, we -had to overcome the first effects of an emotion which arrested breath as -well as speech. Never when we were lovers had we kissed each other as we -did now. - -"But what--how--why--where?" the dear fellow stuttered, when we began to -collect our wits; and in the same bold and incoherent style I -simultaneously gave my explanation. Half a minute sufficed to dispose of -these necessary preliminaries. Then I led him into his own cabin, the -doorway of which I had been blocking up. - - * * * * * - -"But what are we going to do with him?" Tom asked--a singular question, -I considered, but he was full of the business of the ship--I wondered -how he _could_ think about the ship at such a moment. "Hadn't you better -make a nursery of my cabin on deck? It's empty, and the stewardess'll -rig you up whatever you want." - -"I will make a nursery of it," I replied, "when I want to bath and dress -him for the night. And, by the way, perhaps I had better do that now, -before we start." For our son had been wakened out of his sleep, in -order that his father should see how blue his eyes were. - -"Yes, yes, do it now," urged Tom, in a coaxing way. It was sweet of him -not to cloud my perfect happiness by hinting at the scandalous breach of -etiquette it would be to let a baby appear on the bridge while he was -taking the ship out. For my part, I never thought of it. - -He took me down to the deck, now crowded with people, who stared rudely -at us, and into the one cabin there, which was his own; and he called -the stewardess--a delightful woman, charmed to have the captain's baby -on board--and left us together, while he rushed off to speak with the -superintendent of the Sydney office, I suppose about my passage. Soon -afterwards we started, and until we were away at sea I was fully -occupied with Harry's toilet. Then came dinner, and Tom made me go in -with him, while the stewardess stayed with the child; and the short -evening was taken up with preparations for the night. It was arranged -that I should spend it in the nursery, of course, and I was strongly -advised to retire early. - -But the cabin was hot, and the outside air was cool, and I simply could -not rest so far from Tom. The moonlight was lovely at about ten o'clock, -so bright that, stepping out on the now deserted deck to look for him, I -could plainly see his figure moving back and forth at the end of the -bridge, outlined against the sky. And I could not bear it. Slipping back -into my room to pick up my child and roll him in a shawl, I prepared to -storm the position with entreaties that I felt sure my husband was not -the husband to withstand. - -He came plunging down the stairs just as I was about to ascend. I -stopped, and called to him. - -"Tom, _do_ let me be with you!" - -"I was on my way to you, Polly, to see if you were awake, and would like -to come up for a little talk. It's quiet now." - -He put his arm round my waist, and turned to hoist me upward. - -"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "Is that----" - -"Of course it is. You wouldn't have me leave him behind, all alone by -himself?" - -"But won't he catch his death of cold?" - -"How can he, on a night like this? It will do him good. And I won't let -him cry, Tom." - -"Give him to me. I'll carry him up." - -"_Can_ you?" - -He laughed, and took the little creature from me in a delightfully -paternal fashion, and without bungling at all. I had been half afraid -that he was going to turn out like so many men--like Mr. Jones, for -instance--but had no misgivings after that. Even when we encountered Mr. -Jones on duty, he was not ashamed to let his officer see him with an -infant in his arms. Certainly he was born to be a father, if anybody -ever was. - -It was very stuffy in his little house, which had the funnel behind it; -so he put a chair for me outside, under the shelter of the screen, and I -sat there for some time. It was simply the _sweetest_ night! The sea is -never still, of course, however calm it may be, but its movements were -just as if it were breathing in its sleep. And the soft, wide shining of -the moon in that free and airy space--what a dream it was! At intervals -Tom came and dropped on the floor, so that he could lean against my knee -and get a hand down over his shoulder. The man at the wheel could see -us, but carefully avoided looking--as only a dear sailor would do. The -binnacle light was in his face, and I watched him, and saw that he never -turned his eyes our way. As for Prince Hal, he slept as if the sea were -his natural cradle. So it was. - -Presently Tom went off the bridge, and when he returned a steward -accompanied him, carrying a mattress, blankets, and pillows, which he -made up into a comfortable bed beside me. - -"How will that do?" my husband inquired, rubbing the back of a finger -against my cheek. "It isn't the first time I've made you a bed on -deck--eh, old girl?" - -I was wearing a dressing-gown, and lay down in it, perfectly at ease. He -lowered the child into my arms, punched the pillows for our heads, -tucked us up, and kissed us. - -"This is on condition that you sleep," he said. - -"It is a waste of happiness to sleep," I sighed ecstatically. "I want to -lie awake to revel in it." - -"If I see you lying awake an hour hence," he rejoined, pretending to be -stern, while his voice was so full of tenderness that he could scarcely -control it, "I shall send you back to your cabin, Polly." - -So I did not let him see it. But for several hours, when he was not -looking, I watched his dear figure moving to and fro, and the sea, and -the stars, with the smoke from the funnel trailing over them, and -revelled in full consciousness of my utter bliss. - -Even now--after all these years--I get a sort of lump in my throat when -I think of it. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -A PAGE OF LIFE. - - -Does love fly out of the window when poverty walks in at the door? No, -no--of course not! Only when love is an imitation love, selfish and -cowardly, as true love can never be. I am sure ours stayed with us -always, no matter how cramped and starved. We never felt a regret for -having married each other, even when the practical consequences were -most unpleasant--never, never, not for a single instant. And yet--and -yet--well, it is all over now. One need not make one's self gratuitously -uncomfortable by reviving memories of hardships long gone by, and never -likely to be repeated. - -Another thing. _Is_ it fair that a sea-captain should have such -miserable wage for such magnificent work? He has no play-hours, like -other working men, no nights' rest, no evenings at home, no Saturday -holidays--no Sundays even--and no comfort of his wife and family. He is -exposed to weather that you would not turn a dog into, and to fatigue -only measured by the extent of human endurance; and accepts both without -a thought of protest. He has the most awful responsibilities continually -on his mind, as to which he is more inflexibly conscientious than any -landsman living; and he is broken and ruined if an accident happens that -he is but technically to blame for and did his utmost to prevent. Yet -all he gets in return is a paltry twenty pounds a month! At least, that -is what Tom got--with an English certificate and a record without a -flaw. It is because sailors are not money-grubbers, as landsmen are, -that the money-grubbers take advantage of them. - -Tom used to bring his money home and give it all to me, and he almost -apologised for having to ask for a little now and then, to provide -himself with clothes and tobacco. Moreover, he never pried into my -spendings, though anxious that I should be strict and careful, and -pleased to be asked to advise me and to audit my small accounts. In this -he was the most gentlemanly husband I ever heard of. And of course I -strained every nerve to manage for the best, and prove myself worthy of -the confidence reposed in me. But I was not much of a housekeeper in -those days. At home Miss Coleman had attended to everything, even to the -buying of my frocks; for my father had never made me an allowance--which -I do think is so wrong of fathers! If you are not taught the value of -money when you are a girl, how are you to help muddling and blundering -when you are a married woman?--especially if you marry a poor man. I -thought at first that twenty pounds a month was riches. But even at the -first, and though we used enough of Aunt Kate's wedding present to cover -the cost of setting up a house, there seemed nothing left over at the -month's end, try as I would to be economical. When the second draft -came I had doctor's and nurse's fees like lead upon my mind; we did not -invest that hundred at all, and it melted like smoke. And then--before -Harry was fairly out of arms--Phyllis was born, and I was delicate for a -long time; without a second servant my nursery cares would have killed -me. I thought Aunt Kate would have sent me help again, but she did -not--perhaps because I had neglected to write to her, being always so -taken up with household cares. And I got into arrears with the -tradesmen, and into the way of paying them "something on account," as I -could spare the money and not as it was due; and this wrecked the -precise system that Tom had made such a point of, so that I kept things -from him rather than have him worried when he wanted rest. And it was -miserable to be struggling by myself, weighed down with sordid -anxieties, tossing awake at night to think and think what I could do, -never any nearer to a solution of the everlasting difficulty, but rather -further and further off. And I know I was very cross and fretful--how -could I help it?--and that my poor boy must often have found the home -that should have cheered him a depressing place. He seemed not to like -to sleep while I was muddling about, and used to look after the -children, or clean the knives and boots, when he should have been -recruiting in his bed for the next voyage. For I was again obliged to do -as I could with one poor maid-of-all-work, and I am afraid--I really am -a little afraid sometimes--that I have a tendency to be inconsiderate -when I have much to think of. - -By the time that Bobby was born--we had then been five years -married--all the romance of youth seemed to have departed from us, dear -as we were to one another. Our talk when we met was of butchers and -bakers, rents and rates, the wants of the house and how they could be -met or otherwise; and we had to shout sometimes to make ourselves heard -above the noise of crying babies and the clack of the sewing-machine. It -was exactly like the everyday, commonplace, perfunctory, prosaic -married life that we saw all around us, and to the level of which we had -thought it impossible that _we_ should ever sink. - -Tom says, no. On second thoughts I do too. The everyday marriage was not -dignified with those great moments of welcome and farewell, those tragic -hours of the night when the husband was fighting the wind and sea and -the wife listening to the rattle of the windows with her heart in her -mouth--such as, for the time being, uplifted us above all things tame -and petty. And what parents, jogging along in the groove of easy custom, -can realize the effect of trials such as some of those that our peculiar -circumstances imposed on us, in keeping the wine of life from growing -flat and stale. The same thing happened at Bobby's birth as at Harry's, -Tom was perforce away, and I might have died alone without his knowing -it. Three months later the little one took convulsions and was given up -by the doctor; and the father again was out of reach, and might have -come home to find his baby underground. Never shall I forget those -times of anguish and rapture--and many besides, which proved that -nothing in the world was of any consequence to speak of compared with -our value to one another. - -But we forget so soon! And the little things have such power to swamp -the big ones. They are like the dust and sand of the desert, which cover -everything if not continually dredged away. And all those little debts -and privations and schemings and strugglings to make ends meet that -would not meet, were enough to choke one. Especially as Bobby cut his -teeth with more trouble than any baby I ever had, and as I, what with -one thing and another, grew quite disheartened and out of health, so -that I never knew what it was not to feel tired. - -The ignoble sorrows of this period--which I hate to think of--seemed to -culminate on the morning of the day that I am going to tell of--at the -end of which they were so joyfully dispelled. - -Bobby had cried incessantly through the night, so that I had only slept -in snatches, just enough to make me feel more heavy and yawny than if I -had not slept at all. I dragged myself dispiritedly out of bed, dying -for the cup of tea which did not appear till an hour after its time, and -was then brought to me rank and cold from standing, with no milk in it. - -"I forgot to put the can out last night," was Maria's cheerful -explanation, "and I waited in hopes that the milkman would come back, -but he didn't. And, please'm, what shall I do about the children's -breakfast?" - -"You mean to say you never left a drop over from yesterday, in case of -accidents?" I demanded, tears rushing into my eyes. "Oh, Ma-_ria!_" - -It sounds a poor thing to cry about, but I appeal to mothers to say if I -was a fool. Bobby was a bottle baby, and we had all our milk from one -cow on his account; and he was ill, and the dairy at least a mile away. -Rarely had I trusted Maria to remember to put the can out for the -morning supply, delivered before she was up; I used to hang it on the -nail myself. But last night, having my hands so full, I had contented -myself with telling her twice over not to forget it. With this result! -At any moment the poor child might awake and cry for food, and a -spoonful of stale dregs was all I had for him. - -There and then, with clenched teeth and a lump in my throat, and boots -on my feet that had mere rags of soles to them, I set off with the -milk-can to that distant dairy. It was a thick morning, and presently -rained in torrents. When I arrived, drenched to the skin, I was told -that all the milk was with the cart, and I had to wait half an hour -until the proprietress could be persuaded to give me a little. She was -unsympathetic and disobliging--I suppose because I had not paid her -husband for three months. On my return home Bobby, in Maria's arms, was -shrieking himself into another fit of convulsions; and the other -children, catching their deaths of cold in their nightgowns, were -paddling about on flagstones and oilcloth, fighting and squalling, and -trying to light the dining-room fire. They imagined they were helping, -but had spilled coals all over the carpet and used the crumb-brush to -spread the black dust afterwards; and the wonder is that they didn't -burn the house down. - -It was not quite just perhaps--poor little things, they _were_ trying -their best--but the first thing I did was to box the ears of both of -them and send them back to bed. I don't think I ever saw them, as -babies, take so small a punishment so greatly to heart. They snuffled -and sulked for hours--wouldn't even show an interest in the apricot jam -and boiled rice that I gave them for their breakfast and imagined would -be a treat to them--and were more vexatious and tiresome than words can -say. - -"I wish father was home," Harry kept muttering, in that moody way of -his; it is the thing he always said when he wanted to be particularly -aggravating. "Phyllis, I wish father was here, don't you?" - -"Oh," I cried, "you don't wish it more than I do! If father were here, -he'd pretty soon make you behave yourselves. _He_ wouldn't let you drive -your mother distracted when she's already got so much to worry her, with -poor little brother sick and all." Tears were in my eyes, as they must -have seen, but the heartless little brats were not in the least -affected. - -And father's absence was an extra anxiety, for he was hours and hours -behind his time. The papers reported fogs along the coast, and I thought -of shipwrecks as the day wore on, and began to feel that it would be -quite consistent with the drift of things if I were to get news -presently that the Bendigo had gone down. I knew how he dreaded fogs, -which made a good navigator as helpless as a bad one, and wondered if it -implied an instinctive presentiment that a fog was to be his ruin! I -remembered his telling me that if ever he was so unfortunate as to lose -his ship, he should cast himself away along with her; and the appalling -idea filled me not with anguish only, but with a sort of indignation -against him. - -"And he with a young family depending on him!" I cried in my heart--as -if he had already done it--"and a wife who would die if he went from -her!" - -I was in that state of mind and health that when, early in the -afternoon, I heard him come stumbling in, my solicitude for him suddenly -passed, and only the bitter sense of grievance remained. The grocer had -been calling in person, insolent about his account, which indeed had -been growing to awful dimensions; and I was fairly sick of the whole -thing. It was not my poor old fellow's fault, for he gave me his money -as fast as he got it, but somehow I felt as if it was. And when he -dumped down on the sofa beside me to look at Bobby, I began at -once--without even kissing him--to pour out all my woes. - -I was reckless with misery and headache, and did not care what I said. I -told him things I had been scrupulously keeping from him for -months--things which I imagined would harrow him frightfully, much to my -sorrow when it would be too late. And he--even _he_--seemed callous! He -mumbled a soothing word or two, and fell silent. I asked him for advice -and sympathy, and he never answered me. - -Looking at him, I saw that his eyes were shut, his head dropped, his -great frame reeling as he sat, trying to prop himself with his broad -hands on his broad, outspread knees. - -"Tom," I cried in despair, "you're not listening to a word I'm saying!" - -He jerked himself up. - -"I beg your pardon, Polly. The fact is, I'm dead-beat, my dear. It has -been foggy, you know, and I haven't dared to turn in these two nights." - -It seemed as if _everything_ was determined to go wrong. I could see -that his eyelids were swollen and gummy, and that he was half stupefied -with fatigue. - -"What a shame it is!" I passionately complained. "What wretches those -owners are--sitting at home in their armchairs, wallowing in luxury, -while they make you slave like this--and give you next to nothing for -it!" - -"It's no fault of theirs," said he. "They can't help the weather. And -when I've had a few hours' sleep I shall be as right as ninepence. Then -we'll talk things over, pet, and I'll see what can be done." - -I rose, with my sick child in my arms, and he stumbled after me into our -bedroom. For the first time it was not ready for him. I had been so -distracted with my numerous worries that I had forgotten to make the bed -and put away the litter left from all our morning toilets; the place was -a perfect pigsty for him to go into. And he coming so tired from the -sea--looking to his home for what little comfort his hard life afforded -him! When I saw the state of things, I burst into tears. With an -extremely grubby handkerchief he wiped them away, and kissed me and -comforted me. - -"What the deuce does it matter?" quoth he. "Why, bless your heart, I -could sleep on the top of a gatepost. Just toss the things on -anyhow--here, don't you bother--I'll do it." - -He was contented with anything, but I felt shamed and heart-broken to -have failed him in a matter of this kind--the more so because he _was_ -so unselfish and unexacting, so unlike ordinary husbands who think wives -are made for no other purpose than to keep them always comfortable. In -ten minutes he was snoring deeply, and I was trying not to drop tears -into the little stew I was cooking for his tea. - -"At least he shall have a nice tea," I determined, "though goodness -knows how I am going to pay for it." - -Poor baby was easier, and asleep in his cradle; the two others had gone -to play with a neighbour's children. So the house was at peace for a -time, and that was a relief. It was also an opportunity for -thinking--for all one's cares to obtrude themselves upon the mind--and -the smallest molehills looked mountains under the shadow of my physical -weariness. - -Having arranged the tea-table and made up the fire, I sat down for a -moment, with idle hands in my lap; and I was just coming to the sad -conclusion that life wasn't worth living--wicked woman that I was!--when -I heard the evening postman. Expecting nothing, except miserable little -bills with "account rendered" on them, I trailed dejectedly to the -street door. Opening it, a long-leaved book was thrust under my nose, -and I was requested to sign for a registered letter. - -"Ah-h-h!" I breathed deeply, while flying for a pen. "It is that -ever-blessed Aunt Kate--I know it is! She seems to divine the exact -moment by instinct." - -I scribbled my name, received the letter, saw my father's handwriting, -and turned into the house, much sobered. For father, who was a bad -correspondent--like me--had intimated more than once that he was finding -it as much as he could do to make ends meet, with his rapidly -increasing family. - -I sat down by the fire, opened the much-sealed envelope, and looked for -the more or less precious enclosure. I expected a present of five pounds -or so, and I found a draft for a hundred. The colour poured into my -face, strength and vigour into my body, joy and gladness into my soul, -as I held the document to the light and stared at it, to make sure my -eyes had not deceived me. Oh, what a pathetic thing it is that the -goodness of life should so depend upon a little money! Even while I -thought that hundred pounds was all, I was intoxicated with the prospect -before me--bills paid, children able to have change of air, Tom and I -relieved from a thousand heartaches and anxieties which, though they -could not sour him, yet spoiled the comfort of our home because they -sapped my strength and temper. - -I ran to wake him and tell him how all was changed in the twinkling of -an eye; but when I saw him so heavily asleep, my duty as a sailor's -wife restrained me. Nothing short of the house burning over his head -would have justified me in disturbing him. I went back to my -rocking-chair to read my father's letter. - -Well, here was another shock--two or three shocks, each sharper than the -last. My beloved aunt was dead. She had had an uncertain heart for -several years, and it had failed her suddenly, as is the way of such. -She went to church on a Sunday night, returned in good spirits and -apparently good health, ate a hearty supper, retired to her room as -usual, and was found dead in her bed next morning when her maid took in -her tea. This sad news sufficed me for some minutes. Seen through a -curtain of thick tears, the words ran into each other, and I could not -read further. Dear, dear Aunt Kate! She was an odd, quick-tempered old -lady, cantankerous at times; but how warm-hearted, how just and -generous, how good to me, even when I did not care to please her! When -one is a wife, and especially when one is a mother, all other -relationships lose their binding power; but still I could not help -crying for a little while over the loss of Aunt Kate. And I can honestly -say that I did not think of her money until after I had wiped my eyes -and resumed reading. When I turned over a leaf and saw the word, I -remembered the importance of her will to all her relatives. I said to -myself, "After all, the hundred pounds does come from her. It is her -legacy to me." And I was sordid enough to feel a pang of disappointment -because--being her last bequest--it was so small. - -"We buried her yesterday," wrote father, "and the will was read after -the funeral, and has proved a great and painful surprise to us. She has -left the bulk of her money to a man I never even heard of, an engineer -in India. Uncle John says his father was an admirer of hers when she was -a girl, but she never mentioned the name--Keating--to me, and I can't -understand the thing at all. She was always eccentric, and some of us -think we might contest the will with a fair chance of success. However, -my lawyer advises to the contrary, and my wife also; so I, for one, -shall let it go. - -"She has not altogether forgotten her own family. There are a number of -small legacies, including £2,000 for myself, which will come in very -usefully just now, though not a tithe of what I expected. I have also -some plate and furniture. You, my dear girl, are the best off of us all. -Besides jewellery and odds and ends, she has left you the interest of -£10,000 (in Government securities) for life, your children after you. -This will give you an income of £300 a year--small, but absolutely -safe--and relieve my mind of many anxieties on your behalf." He went on -to tell me about powers of attorney and other legal matters that I did -not understand and thought unworthy of notice at such a moment. He also -explained that lawyers were a dilatory race, and that he was advancing -£100 to tide me over the interval that must elapse before affairs were -settled. - -Again I went into my room and looked at Tom. How _could_ he sleep in a -house so charged with wild excitement! I regret to say it was that, and -not grief, which made my heart throb so that I wonder he did not feel -the bedstead shaking, and the very floor and walls. I ached with -suppressed exclamations; I tingled with an intolerable restlessness, as -if bitten by a thousand fleas. And still he lay like a log, drawing his -breath deeply and slowly, with soft, comfortable grunts; and still, in -an agony of self-control, I refrained from touching him. Baby woke up, -moist and smiling. His tooth was through; he seemed to know that it was -his business to get well at once. It is not only misfortunes that never -come singly; good luck is a thing that seldom rains but it pours. Harry -and Phyllis came home, took their tea peaceably, and went to bed like -lambs. I sent Maria, with half a sovereign, to a savoury cook-shop where -they sold fowls and hams and all sorts of nice things ready for table, -and she brought back a supper fit for a prince. - -"It is all right, Maria," I assured her, in my short-breathed, vibrating -voice, seeing her wonder at my extravagance. "I am rich now. I can -afford the captain something better than a twice-cooked stew. Spend it -all, Maria, on the best things you can get. And you shall have your -wages to-morrow, and a present of a new frock." - -When all was ready--the glazed chicken, the juicy slices of pink ham, -the wedge of rich Stilton, the bottle of English ale--I returned again -to my unconscious spouse. It was ten o'clock, and he had been sleeping -with all his might for seven hours. Surely that was enough! Especially -as he still had the whole night before him. I stroked his hair--I kissed -his forehead--I kissed his shut eyes. He can resist everything but that; -when I kiss his eyes he is obliged to stir and murmur and want kisses -for his lips. He stirred now, and turned up his dear old face. - -"Pol----" - -"Yes, darling, it's me. Are you awake?" - -He sighed luxuriously. - -"Tommy, _are_ you awake?" - -"Wha's th' time?" - -"It's _awfully_ late. Come, you won't sleep to-night if you don't get up -now." - -"Oh, sha'n't I? I could sleep for a week if I had the chance. Ah-hi-ow!" -He yawned like a drowsy lion. "I'd sooner have twenty gales than one -fog, Polly." - -"I know you would. But never mind about gales and fogs and trivial -things of that kind. I've something far, far more important to talk to -you about--something that will make your very hair stand on end with -astonishment. Only I want to be quite sure first that you are awake -enough to take it in." - -He called his faculties together in a moment as if I had been the -look-out man reporting breakers, and was all alive and alert to deal -summarily with the situation, whatever it might be. And I rushed upon my -story, showed him the letter and the draft, and poured out a jumbled -catalogue of all the things we could now do that wanted doing--beginning -with a leaking kettle and ending with his professional appointment, -which I had decided must be resigned forthwith. - -"And we will live together always and always, like other husbands and -wives, only that we shall be a thousand times happier," I concluded, as -I led him in to his supper, hanging on his arm. - -"No more fogs and gales, to wear you out and perhaps drown you in the -end, but your bed every night, and your armchair by the fire, your home -and family, and me--_me_----" - -"Little woman! But you mustn't forget, pet, that I'm not thirty-eight -till next birthday. A man can't give up work and sink into armchairs at -that age." - -"Of course he can't. We can find some nice post ashore. There are plenty -of things, if you look for them." - -"Not for sailor men, who know nothing but their trade." - -"Oh, heaps--any amount of heaps! And you can take your time, of course. -No need to hurry for a year or two. You want a long holiday. You have -never had one yet. And _I_ want _you_. What's the use of money, if we -can't enjoy it together? We have not had so much as one whole month to -ourselves since we were married." - -"Well, a sailor's wife must accept the conditions, you know." - -"Yes, when necessary. But it is not necessary now that we are people of -independent means." - -"Three hundred a year isn't three thousand. And we've got to educate the -kids, and put by for them." - -"No need to put by for them when they are to have my money after I am -dead." - -"For myself, then. You wouldn't like to die and leave me to sell matches -in the streets?" - -"Oh, Tom, don't talk about dying--now that it's so sweet to be alive!" - -"My dear, you began it. I vote we don't talk any more at all, but eat -our supper and go to bed. Here, sit down by me, and let us gorge. I -have had nothing since morning, and this table excites me to frenzy." - -We cut off the breast of the chicken for the children and a leg for -Maria, and demolished the rest. We drank the beer between us, out of one -tumbler; we devoured half of a crusty loaf, and cheese sufficient for a -dozen nightmares; and I never felt so well in my life as I did after it. -Tom said the same. - -But sleep was far away--even from him. We had to arrange our programme -for the morning--the fetching of Nurse Barber to take care of baby, the -business at the bank, the settlings of pressing accounts, the beginnings -of our innumerable shoppings; and whenever a silence fell that I knew I -should not break, something forced me to turn over in bed with a violent -fling and make loud ejaculations. - -"Oh, dear, kind, sweet Aunt Kate! To think that I am so pleased at -having her money that I cannot cry because she is dead! Oh, Tom, Tom! To -think that we never need owe a penny again--never, never, as long as we -live!" - -This was merely the effect of shock. We sobered down next day. And it -was wonderful how soon we grew accustomed to having an independent -income, and to feeling that it would not go half as far as it should. -Long and long had we spent the hundred pounds before the first -instalment of the annuity was paid over; we thought it was never coming, -and when it came it melted like snow in sunshine. One has no idea what -it costs to furnish even a small house comfortably until one begins to -do it, and a few doctor's bills play havoc with all one's calculations. -And my husband could not stay at home with me--rather, he would not. I -am sure there were dozens of situations that he might have had for the -asking--a man so universally beloved and respected--but he would not -ask. He was fit for the sea, he said, but would be a useless lubber -ashore--a fish out of water, a stranded hulk, and things of that sort. -The fact was he _preferred_ the sea--in which he differed from most -sailors--and hated streets and clubs and landsmen's pursuits. He said he -should choke if he were shut up in them, and I said, with tears, that he -cared more for the sea than he did for his wife and children. Of course -he declared it was not so, and his feelings were hurt; but he admitted -the strong affection. I was his mate as he described it, his nearest and -dearest--I and the children; but the sea was his comrade, to whom he had -grown accustomed--his foster mother, who had nursed him so long that she -had made him feel like a part of her. A foster mother is not much of a -rival to a wife so loved as I am, but, oh, how jealous of her I was! - -However, I don't believe that his affection for the sea had anything to -do with it. I doubt very much whether that affection was as genuine as -it appeared. My conviction is that he was in terror of the possible -indignity of having to live upon my money. Such utter nonsense!--when -wife and husband are absolutely one, as we were. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE BROKEN CIRCLE. - -I had my heart's desire at last--with the usual calamitous result. Of -course it came when I least expected it, and in the paltriest kind of -way--merely because a workman, whom I had engaged to put a new stove -into the children's play-room, chose to leave his job unfinished until -over Sunday, instead of clearing it off on Saturday morning, as he -easily might have done. There was no school on Saturday, and it was a -wet, cold day, when even the boys had to be kept indoors; so there was -nothing for it but to turn them and Phyllis into the dining-room--my -nice dining-room, which had lately had a new carpet--while I took the -drawing-room for myself and Lily, to keep her out of harm's way. She was -not very well--nor was I; and I confess that I was in a cross mood. I -had all my four children with me then, safe under my wing, and did not -know how well off I was! - -During the morning they were fairly good, preparing their lessons most -of the time; but after dinner they were at a loss for amusement, tired -of the house, restless and mischievous--very wearing to a mother whose -nerves were out of tune. Even Lily became fractious. I gave her a doll -and some picture-books and my work-basket to play with, but she fiddled -with them, and fidgeted, and would not settle to anything. She kept -listening to the noises from the dining-room--the boys paid no heed to -my repeated calls to them to be quiet--and uttering monotonous whinings -to be allowed to go there. - -"Mother, do let me go and play with the others." - -"No, Lily; little girls must not romp about with rough boys." - -"Phyllis is a little girl, and she's romping with them." - -"Phyllis hasn't a bad cold, as you have." - -"My cold is quite better now, mother." - -"No, it isn't. It is only a little better. And we mustn't let it get -worse again by running into draughts." - -"There are no draughts in the dining-room, mother. It's all shut up. I -can put the flannel round my neck, mother." - -Oh, I could have smacked her! But of course I didn't, poor little ailing -mite--barely three years old; besides, my attention was constantly -distracted by the boys, who, when not rushing into and out of the hall, -yelling and slamming doors as if they wanted to bring the house down, -were scuffling and thumping within the dining-room in a way to make me -tremble for my good furniture. I went to them once or twice to read the -riot act, and each time they left off what they were doing the moment -they heard me, sat mumchance while I scolded them, almost laughing in my -face, and went on worse than ever directly my back was turned. Boys will -be boys, Tom used to tell me, in his easy-going way, but I don't believe -in letting boys defy their mother with impunity. And when presently I -heard the yapping of a dog in addition to their own shouts and cries, I -was at the end of my patience with them, determined to assert myself -effectually once for all. - -Rushing into the dining-room, before they had time to hear me coming, -this is what I saw. The window open--cakes of mud all over the new -carpet--Bobby's dog, streaming with rain, on the nice tablecloth, -barking at Phyllis's cat planted on a silk sofa cushion, which she was -tearing and ravelling in her frantic claws--the children standing round, -Phyllis holding her cat, Bobby his dog, and Harry inciting the impotent -animals to fly at one another, all three consumed with laughter, as if -it were the greatest fun in the world. - -The first thing I did was to dash at Waif, knocking him out of Bobby's -hands and off the table--and I shall never forgive myself for that as -long as I live. It was a shabby mongrel terrier which Bobby had picked -up in the street one day on his way from school, and been allowed to -cure of starvation and a lame leg and keep for his own particular pet; -and the mutual devotion of the pair was a joke of the family. Waif was -now fat and strong, though as ugly as before, but when he scrambled up -from the fall I had given him he limped a little on the leg that had -been broken; and Bobby snatched him into his arms again, and turned upon -me with blazing eyes--Bobby, who had never given me impudence in the -whole course of his life. - -"Hit me, mother," said he, "if you like, but don't hit him--for nothing -at all." - -"You call that nothing?" I cried, and pointed to the pretty terra-cotta -cloth--one mass of smears and muddy footmarks. Ah, my precious boy! What -would a thousand terra-cotta tablecloths matter now? - -He seemed quite surprised to discover that a dog brought in from the -rain and a garden that was a perfect swamp could be wet and dirty, and -stared open-mouthed at the damage done. I marched him to the window and -made him drop Waif out, tossed the scratching kitten after him, shut -down the sash and locked it, and then turned to Harry. For Harry was -the eldest, the ringleader, the one who ought to have known better and -who set the example for the rest. - -"You do this on purpose to vex me," I cried vehemently, "and because you -know I am ill to-day, and that father is away!" I did not quite mean -that, but one cannot help saying rather more than one means in such -moments of acute exasperation. - -"Do what?" returned Harry, looking as surprised as Bobby had done. "I'm -not doing anything. And you never told us you were ill." - -"I have a raging headache," I said--and so I had as the result of the -long day's worry. "And I have been telling you the whole afternoon to be -quiet, and the more I tell you, the more you disobey me. Look at that -beautiful new carpet--ruined for ever! Look at that lovely -cushion--simply scratched to pieces! And a great, big boy like you, who -ought to be a comfort to his mother----" - -But there is no need to repeat all I said to him; indeed, I cannot -remember it; but my blood was up, and I know I scolded him severely. And -he answered me back, as he alone of all the children dared to do, which -of course made things worse; for if there is one thing I cannot stand it -is impertinence. He was just telling me that, if I chose to regard him -as a ruffian and a cad, he could not help it, when we heard a distant -door open--the way a door opens to the hand of the master of the house. - -"There!" I exclaimed passionately. "There's your father! We'll see what -_he_ says to the way you treat me when his back is turned." - -Tom came in, with that bright look he always wears when he sees us after -an absence. How could I have had the heart to extinguish it, and to make -his children quake at sight of his dear face, instead of flying to -welcome him, as was the rule on his return! But a mother's authority -_must_ be upheld. I said so to Tom, and he said I was perfectly right, -and that it was his business to see it done. He bade me explain what -was the matter, and I did so, softening things a little--more and more -as I went on--since, after all, it was nothing so very dreadful. Perhaps -I had been a little hasty and hard; I thought so when I saw how Tom was -taking it. He had that inexorable look of the commander confronted with -mutiny--as if really I were accusing the poor boys of murder at the -least. And when I saw how they stood before him--Bob downcast and -tearful, and Harry with his head up, teeth and hands clenched, too proud -to quail--oh, I would have given anything to save them! But it was too -late. - -"I am sure they didn't mean it," I protested, laying my hand on Harry's -shoulder, which felt as rigid as iron under it. "We can overlook it this -time, father, dear." - -"The one thing I will never overlook," he replied, "is misconduct -towards you when I leave you unprotected. If they don't know the first -rudiments of manliness--at their age--I must try to teach them." - -"But _that_ is not the way to teach them!" I cried--almost shrieked--as -he signed to them to pass out of the room before him. "Oh, Tom, don't! -don't! It is all my fault!" - -Harry turned and looked at me with an ice-cold smile, as if his face -were galvanised, and said calmly, "It is all right, mother. It is -_quite_ right." And then the three of them left me, Tom himself sternly -keeping me back when I tried to follow; and presently, with my head -buried in the torn pillow and my hands over my ears, I heard an agonised -wail from poor little Bob. Not from Harry, of course; he would be cut to -pieces before he would deign to cry out. Oh, what _brutes_ men are! I -hated Tom--though he was Tom--with a hatred that was perfectly murderous -while it lasted. - -We had our tea together alone--a thing that had never happened before, -on his first evening, since we had had a child old enough to sit up at -table. I had sent the little girls to bed--Phyllis for punishment, Lily -for her throat, and because I felt I could not stand her chatter--and -he had sent the boys. There were the usual first-night -delicacies--sweetbreads, wild ducks, honey in the combs--and for once -they were uneaten and unnoticed. All my preparations for his home-coming -were thrown away. He was glum and silent, evidently as upset as I was, -with no appetite for anything. As for me, I felt as if a crumb of bread -would choke me. And I would not speak to him--I could not--with that -shriek of Bobby's in my ears. - -"I suppose," he said, in a heavy voice--"I suppose I'd better resign my -billet and come home, Polly. They're getting pretty old now for you to -struggle with them single-handed. It's not fair to you, my dear." - -I treated this remark as if I had not heard it, and he soon rose from -his seat and left the room. He went into his little smoking den, shut -the door behind him, and locked it. - -When I thought him safely out of the way I stole off to see and comfort -my poor boys. They shared the same room, their beds standing side by -side, with a chair between them. When I crept in they were talking in a -low voice together; as soon as they heard me they fell silent and -pretended to be asleep. A smell of moist dog and an otherwise -unaccountable protuberance implied the presence of a third culprit--and -a flat contravention of one of the strict rules of the house--but I took -no notice, although terrified lest Bobby's shirt and sheets should be -dampened, and sickened by the thought of the fleas that would infest -him. Oh, how thankful I am now that I took no notice, and did not snatch -his bit of comfort from his arms! - -I sat down on the chair and leaned over Harry, smoothed his hair from -his brow, and kissed him. I might as well have kissed the bed-post. He -is a peculiar boy--a little hard-natured and perverse--and he can never -bear anybody to pity him. I was not surprised that he repulsed me, -though I felt dreadfully hurt. My beloved Bobby--my angel, whom I never -rightly appreciated until I had lost him--he was quite different. He -kissed me back again, and whimpered when I talked to him, and told me -he had never meant to be as naughty as father thought. Bless him! I knew -he never did. I told him so. But even then he was just a little reserved -with me, as if he could not quite forgive me for what I had brought upon -him--which was bitter enough at the time, but an agony to think of -afterwards, as it is to this day. So I went away to my room and cried in -the dark, utterly miserable. And I thought to myself, "If this is how -they feel towards me, how will they regard their father, who has treated -them so brutally? Why, they will never have an atom of affection for him -again!" - -But when I went back to them, hoping for a warmer welcome, and anxious -about their poor empty stomachs, there was Tom, sitting on the chair -between their beds, chatting to them, and they to him, as if nothing had -occurred--aye, although Waif had been deposed and banished. Another -chair had been dragged up, and a tray stood on it--a tray piled with -food, duck and sweetbread, cold beef and tongue, all mixed -together--which he was serving out in lavish helpings, with plenty of -bread-and-butter. Harry, leaning on his elbow, rested his head on his -father's arm; Bob, crouched at his knees on the floor, looked up at him -with his dear merry eyes, that bore no malice--not even a reproach. They -did not see me at the door, where I stood a minute to watch them, -suffocated by the sense of being shut out. - -I did not think it was quite right of Tom. But I did not say so. When he -called to me to come in and be apologised to--the boys did it -handsomely, but still rather perfunctorily, I fancied--I was glad to let -bygones be bygones, and to feel we were a united family once more. - -And I thought the incident ended there. Nothing more was said about it -while Tom remained at home, and he went away as usual, giving me--even -me--not the faintest indication of what was in his mind. So that I was -completely dumfoundered when, on his next return, he said, in a -tremulous tone of voice and with quite a tragic air generally: - -"Well, Polly, I've done it." - -"_What?_" I cried, guessing his meaning in an instant, for I remembered -his remark at tea that night when we were all so unhappy. "You _don't_ -mean to say you have thrown up your command--thrown away -everything--just _now_, when we want so badly to increase our income and -not to lessen it--without a word of warning?" - -"No warning?" quoth he. "Why, haven't you been at me every day for the -last dozen years to do it? And quite right too. It's bad for boys to -grow up without a father to look after them, and their welfare is of -more importance than anything else." - -"You say that, and at the same time take away all chance of their having -a decent education and a fair start in the world! How am I to keep them -at the Grammar School, and have a governess for the girls, and support -the house and all, on my poor three hundred a year?" - -I should not have said it, and could have cut my tongue out before the -words were half uttered, but somehow the first news of the shock that we -were to lose half our income, on which we already found it no easy -matter to make ends meet, was overwhelming. And we were so accustomed to -speak freely whatever was in our minds that I never anticipated he would -take a chance remark so ill. I suppose his interview with the owners had -agitated him; as I heard afterwards, the whole office had expressed -regrets at his leaving the service, and said all kinds of nice and -flattering things about him; otherwise I am sure he would not have given -way as he did. He just turned from me, put his arms on the mantelpiece, -and, dropping his head down, gave a sob under his breath. My own good -husband! That ever I should have been the cause--however innocently--of -bringing a tear to his dear eyes, a moment's pang to his faithful heart! - -Of course he forgave me at once--he always does; and in a few minutes we -were talking things over in peace and comfort, while I sat on his -knee--for the children were in school, happily. - -"As for income, Polly, you don't suppose I am going to live on you?" he -said--and a very unkind thing it was to say, as I told him. "You don't -imagine I intend to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs, while you take -the whole burden on your little shoulders--do you?" - -"I don't see why you shouldn't," I replied. "At any rate for a long -while to come. I'm sure if any one ever earned the right to a thorough -rest, you have. And, oh, Tom, no burden can be a burden with you here to -help me!" - -"Thanks, old girl. That's good hearing." - -"As if you wanted to be told that! And by and by, when you have had a -nice long spell, there are sure to be posts offered to you about the -ports----" - -"No, Polly; don't delude yourself with that idea. There are no posts for -a sailor who leaves sea--that is, one or two, perhaps, and a hundred -fellows wanting them. I should be no good at office work, among the -smart hands, and the life would kill me. No, I've a better notion than -that--it's been in my mind a long time, and I've been talking it over -with experts, men who thoroughly understand the matter----" - -"And not with me!" I interposed reproachfully. - -"Well, I didn't see the use of disturbing your mind until one could do -something. But now the time has come." He was quite bright and excited. -"Look here, Polly--listen, dear, till I have explained fully--my idea is -to take a little farm place on the outskirts of Melbourne----" - -"A farm!" I broke in. "Are _you_ one of those who think that farming -comes by instinct and doesn't have to be learned like other trades?" - -"I don't mean that kind of farm, but just a few acres of good land--more -on the edge of the country than in it, you understand--near enough for -the boys to get to the Grammar School by train or on ponies--and breed -pigs----" - -"Oh, pigs!" I echoed, sniffing. - -"Well, if you objected to pigs, there's poultry. With a few incubators -we could rear fowls enough to supply all Melbourne. Or bees. There's a -great trade to be done in honey if you know how to set about it. Bees -feed themselves, and flowers cost nothing--I particularly want us to -live among plenty of flowers--and I could make the boxes myself. But -pigs are the thing, Polly. I've gone into the question thoroughly, and -there's no doubt about it. You see, we should be able to keep -cows--think how splendid to give the children fresh milk from our own -dairy, as much as they can drink!--and we could send the rest to a -factory and get the buttermilk back for the pigs. And vegetables--of -course we'd have a big garden--and they'd eat all the surplus that would -otherwise go to waste, and the fallen fruit, and the refuse from the -kitchen; so that really the cost of feed would be next to nothing. The -pork would be first-class on such a diet, given the right breed to -begin with, and what Melbourne markets couldn't absorb we might ship -frozen to England." - -And so on. - -Well, it was a fascinating picture, and his enthusiasm was contagious. -I, too, thought it would be lovely to live amongst cows and flowers, and -at the same time be making a fortune out of our Arcadian surroundings. -So I went in for the little farm, and all the three classes of -profitable stock--pigs, fowls, bees--in short, everything. What would -have happened to us if Tom had not made a few unexpected thousands by -the purest accident, I don't know. He did a little deal in mining -shares, under the direction of a strangely disinterested friend who was -expert at that business, and so saved us all from ruin. I may add that -it was his sole exploit of the kind. I would not let him gamble any -more--beyond putting an annual pound or two in Tattersall's -Sweeps--because, although he thought he had been very smart, he was as -ignorant as a confiding infant of the ways of money dealers, and never -could have experienced such another stroke of luck. He was easily -persuaded to let well alone, as always to defer to and see the -reasonableness of any wish of mine. - -It was before we had fairly plunged into our messes and muddles--in the -very beginning, when the _couleur de rose_ was over all--when the -dilapidations of our country cottage were all repaired, and everything -in the most beautiful order--when the fields were rich with spring grass -and the scent of wattle-blossom, and the sleek cows had calved, and the -hens were clucking about with thriving families of chicks--when the bee -boxes were still a-making, and the two first pigs only in their smart -new sty--when the children, released from the schoolroom, were -scampering everywhere with their father, who was more of a child than -any of them, and growing fat and rosy on the sweet air and the pure -milk--when we were telling one another all day that we never were so -happy and so well off--it was then that the calamity of our lives -befell us. - -A small creek touched the borders of the two paddocks that we called our -farm, and, like all creeks, was fringed with wild vegetation, bushes and -trees that interposed a romantic screen between its little bed and the -world of prosaic agriculture. It so happened that the children--like -many thousands of native Australians, far older than they--had never -seen the bush. When they had wanted change of air Tom had taken them to -sea; and as he had never had holidays himself, and I had never cared to -go away from home without him, we were nearly in the same case. That -strip of scrub was true bush, as far as it went, and we were delighted -in it. - -We were too busy just then to go thither in daytime, and would not allow -the children to ramble there alone, for fear of snakes--although it was -much too early and too cool for them; besides which, there were -none--but we would take the fascinating walk about sundown in a family -party, and sometimes have our tea there, returning after dark with -strange treasures of leaf and insect, clear pebbles that we made sure -were topazes in the rough, and stones with mica specks in them that we -thought were gold. And once we went there in moonlight--the full moon of -our first October--when it was mild and balmy, and we could easily -imagine ourselves in forests primeval untrodden by a human foot except -our own! How well I remember it--as if it were yesterday!--the enormous -look of the trees in that beautiful, deceptive light, and how we stood -in an ecstatic group under one of them to look up at an oppossum sitting -in the fork of a dead branch. - -Many people think that oppossums, like snakes and laughing jackasses, -are common objects of the country in all its parts; but that is not the -case nowadays with any of the three, and none of our family had beheld -the dear little furry animal, except dead in a museum or torpid in the -Zoölogical Gardens, while it had been one of the great ambitions of our -lives to do so. And here he was, alive, alert, and unmistakable, his -ears sticking up and his bushy tail hanging down, sitting against the -moon, as I had seen roosting pheasants in the woods at home, looking -down at us with the intense interest that an oppossum is able to take in -things at that hour. The excitement was tremendous. The boys literally -danced round and round the tree, and Waif was beside himself; he made -frantic leaps upward, turning somersaults in the rebound, wildly tore at -the bark of the tree and the earth at its roots, and filled the quiet -night with his impassioned yaps and squeaks. He also, to the best of our -belief, had never seen an oppossum before; yet he was as keen as a -foxhound after a fox to get at and destroy it. - -The little animal did not seem to mind. It sat still and gazed at us, as -is the way of an oppossum, even when you have no camp-fire or lantern to -mesmerise and paralyse it; we could almost fancy that we saw its fixed -eyes, large and liquid, in the light of the moon. And suddenly Bobby -ejaculated, from the depths of his heart, "Oh--_oh_--if _only_ I'd got -my gun!" - -We took no notice--never heeded the warning given us--but only laughed -to hear the little chap talking of his gun as if he were an old -sportsman. It was a small single barrel, presented to him on his going -to the country by his godfather, Captain Briggs (much to my dismay at -the time, and the natural chagrin of the elder brother, who should have -been the first to possess one), and Tom had given the child but two -lessons in the use of it--shooting bottles from the top of the paddock -fence. - -Being without a gun, the boys flung aloft such missiles as came to hand, -and, when a stick of wood touched the branch it sat on, the 'possum ran -along it to a place where it was lost in leaves. Then we bethought -ourselves of the late hour, called off Waif, and went home to bed--to -bed, and to sleep as tranquil and unforeboding as the sleep of other -nights. - -The next day was exceptionally full of business. Recreation was not -thought of. It was nine o'clock when we left off work--Tom and I. - -Lily was long in bed, but the other children had no proper hour for -retiring at this unsettled time. I went to the sitting-room to look for -them, and found only Phyllis there. The lamp was not lit, nor the blinds -drawn. I noticed that the moon was up, and by its light saw her crouched -at one of the windows, pressing her face against the glass. I asked her -what she was doing there, and she did not hear me; on my repeating the -question, she sprang up with such a start of fright that I at once -divined mischief somewhere. - -"Where is Harry?" I cried sharply. Somehow it was always Harry, my -handsome first-born, that I expected things to happen to. - -Phyllis stammered and shuffled, and then said that Harry had gone to -look for Bobby. - -"And where is Bobby?" - -She seemed still more reluctant to reply, but suddenly exclaimed, with -an air of joyful relief, "Oh, there he is! There he is! There's Waif--he -can't be far off!" - -She followed me to the verandah, whither I went to meet and reproach my -poor little fellow for having strayed without leave, and there was no -boy visible--only the dear, ugly, faithful dog for whose sake all dogs -are beloved and sacred for ever and ever. Waif ran to my feet, pawed -them and my skirts, squirmed and jumped, yelped and whined, all the time -looking up at me with eyes that were full of desire and -supplication--trying to tell me something that at first I could not -understand. I took a few steps into the garden, and he scampered down a -pathway to the gate; seeing I did not follow so far, he ran back, seized -a bit of my frock in his teeth, and tried to drag me with him. - -"What does he want?" I called to Tom, as he sauntered towards me, pipe -in mouth. "Tom, Tom, _what_ does it mean?" - -"Where's Bob?" was his instant question. - -"Harry has gone after him--Harry is with him--Harry will bring him -home," piped Phyllis, trembling like a leaf. Then she burst into tears. -"Oh, mother--oh, father--I heard the gun such a long, long time ago!" - -The gun! Who would have dreamed of _that?_--locked up in a wardrobe, as -we supposed, and forbidden to be so much as looked at except under -parental supervision. At the word our hearts jumped, and seemed to stop -beating. - -"He wanted to shoot the oppossum and cure the skin for a present to you -on your birthday, mother. And he wanted it to be a secret--for a -surprise to you." - -Waif whined and ran, and we ran after him--Tom in silence, I wailing -under my breath, already in despair and heart broken. I can see the -devoted creature now, pattering steadily over the moonlit paddocks -towards the creek and the trees, stopping every now and then to make -sure that we were coming; and see him tracking through the scrub with -his nose to the ground, and hear his little uneasy whimper when for a -moment he could not perceive us. - -Once we stopped at the sound of a distant whistle, and I shrieked with -joy. - -"No," said Tom gently. "That's Harry calling him." - -And we came to the place where we had seen the oppossum the night -before. The moonbeams trickled through the branches from which it had -looked down upon our happy, united family, and just where we had stood -together there was a dark something on the ground. Waif ran up to it and -licked it---- - - * * * * * - -I can't write any more. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING. - - -It was years, literally, before I got over it. Indeed, I have never got -over it--never shall, while I have any power to remember things. -Death--we all know, more or less, what it means to the living whom it -has robbed. To lose a child--the mothers know, at any rate! It is no use -talking about it. Besides, there are no words to talk with that can -possibly explain. - -I often hear the remark that my husband has the most patient temper in -the world, and I realise its truth when I think of that dreadful -time--how I must have wearied and discouraged him, and how he never once -reproached me for it, even by a glum look. He knew I could not help it. -For one thing, I was ill--physically ill, with the doctor coming to see -me. He ordered me tonics, stimulants, a complete change of scene, and so -on, but no doctor's prescriptions were any good for my complaint. -Winding a watch with a broken mainspring won't make it go. Tonics gave -me headaches--tonics accompanied by constant tears and -sleeplessness--and, hideous as the house was, with an empty place -staring at me from every point to which I could turn my eyes, I knew it -would be worse elsewhere. I clung to my own bed, my own privacy, my home -where I could do as I liked and shut out the foolish would-be -sympathisers and their futile condolences; and I could not bear to leave -the other children. Once you have lost a child, you never again feel any -confidence that the rest are safe; you seem to _know_ they are going to -die if they but catch a cold or scratch a finger, and that they will -have no chance at all if you let them out of your sight. Besides, there -were things to see to--the poultry, for instance, which was under my -charge--if only I could have seen to them! I tried, but sorrow made me -stupid; and when the incubator was found stone-cold, and again -overheated, and on one occasion burnt to ashes with dozens of poor -chicks inside, and when dozens more were drowned in a storm for want of -timely shelter--all fine, thriving birds, when, you couldn't get a -decent turkey in Melbourne for under a pound--I suppose it was my fault. -But Tom always said, "Never mind--don't you worry yourself, Polly," and -his first thought was to get me a glass of wine. He was like an old -nurse in the way he cosseted and coddled me. When I was more ill than -usual, he thought nothing of sitting up all night by my bedside, and -making little messes for me in the kitchen with his own hands. He never -even said, as I have heard men say at the first starting of tears--not -after they have been flowing, like mine, for weeks and weeks--"Why don't -you make an effort to control yourself? You know perfectly well that -crying only makes you worse and does nobody any good"--as if a poor -mother cried from choice and perversity and the pleasure of doing it, -when her heart was broken! He knew my heart was broken. He understood. -No one else understood. They all thought I could control myself if I -liked. Some of them said so, and told one another, I am sure, though I -did not hear them, that it was the calm and composed ones who felt the -most. That is the theory of books and cold-hearted people; I don't -believe in it for a moment. Whenever I see a woman bearing up, as they -call it, without showing ravages in some way or other, I know what -supports her--not more courage, but a harder nature than mine. A man is -different. Tom mourned for our little son with all his heart, though he -did not show it; and he did not show it because he is so unselfish. He -thought of me before himself, and would not add a straw to my burden. -Never was a tenderer husband in this world! I believe those women -thought him foolish and weak-minded to indulge me as he did, but that -was envy, naturally; they did not know, poor things, what it was to have -such a staff to lean on. - -However, one day, when I was showing him how thin I had grown, taking up -handfuls of "slack" in a bodice that had been once tight for me, he -began to look--not impatient or aggrieved, but determined--as he used to -look on board ship when the law was in his own hands. - -"Polly," he said, "this has gone on long enough. I'm not going to stand -by and see you die by inches before my eyes. Something must be done. I -shall take you to sea." - -"To sea!" I exclaimed. "We can't leave the children. We can't leave the -farm. We can't afford----" - -"I don't care," he broke in. "I'm not going to lose you, if I can help -it, for anybody or anything. You're just ready to fall into a rapid -decline, or to catch some fatal epidemic or other, and I can't have it, -Polly; it must be put a stop to before it is too late. The sea's the -thing. The sea's what you want. Come to that, it's what I want myself; -I've got quite flabby from being away from it so long. It would brace us -up, both of us, and nothing else will. You pack a few clothes, pet, and -I'll go into Melbourne and look up a nice boat. Don't you bother your -head about the farm or the children or anything--I'll see that they're -left all safe." - -He was so firm about it that I had to give in. The sea, of course, was -not like any other change of air and change of scene--it did seem to -promise refreshment and renovation, peace even greater than that of my -home, where I still suffered from the mistaken kindness of neighbours -coming to expostulate with and to cheer me. Besides, when Tom said he -had got flabby for want of it, I noticed that he was not looking well. -There could be no doubt about the proposed trip being beneficial to -him--I must have urged him to take it for his own health's sake--and I -could not be left without him. So I mustered a little energy to begin -preparations while he went to town; for though I had begged for time to -think the matter over, he would not hear of delay. I never knew him so -resolute, even with a crew. - -At night he brought back a brighter face than had been seen in our house -for many a long day. I was sitting up for him, and even I had stirrings -in my heavy heart of a reviving interest in life. All day I had been -thinking of our old voyage in the Racer--remembering the beautiful parts -of it, forgetting all the rest. - -"Well, Polly," said he; "did you wonder what was keeping me so late? The -old man"--he meant the head of his old firm--"insisted on my dining with -him, and I couldn't well refuse. Talked about everything as frank and -free as if I'd been his brother--all the business of the old shop--and -said they'd give a hundred pounds to have me back again. By Jove, if it -wasn't for you and the children--no, no, I don't mean that; we're -happiest as we are--or will be when you are well and heartened up a bit. -What do you think, Polly? I'm to take the old Bendigo her next trip. -Watson hasn't had a spell for years, and there's a new baby at his -place; I saw Watson first--he put me up to it--but the old man was -ready to do anything I liked to ask him. 'Certainly,' says he; 'by all -means, and whenever you choose. And bring the missus, of course--only -too proud to have her company on any ship she fancies.' You know he -always thought a deal of you, Polly; I declare he was quite affectionate -in his inquiries after you--never thought he could be so kind and jolly. -I could have got free passages for both of us easy enough, but it's -pleasanter to work for them; and I don't think, somehow, that I could -feel at home in the old Bendigo anywhere but on the bridge." - -"And I should not like to see you anywhere else," I said; "not if we -paid full fares twice over. And how nice not to have to pay, when the -farm is keeping us so short! How nice an arrangement altogether! I can -be upstairs with you--the old man would wish me to do whatever I -liked--and have more liberty than would be possible if another was in -command, and so can you. It's a charming plan! And the Bendigo, -too--our own old Bendigo! Oh, Tom, do you remember _that night!_" - -It was some years since he had left the boat on board of which he had -been introduced to his eldest son; but whenever we recalled the time -that he was captain of her our first thoughts pictured the moonlit -bridge and the baby; at any rate mine did. And in my terribly deepened -sense of the significance of motherhood nothing could have suited me -better than to go back to the dear place where my mother-life began, for -it did not properly begin until Tom shared it with me. I would sooner -have chosen the Bendigo to have a trip in--if I had the choice--than the -finest yacht or liner going. - -So we went to bed almost happy. And two days later, having been quite -brisk in the interval, safeguarding our home and children as completely -as it could be done, we walked down the familiar wharf, amongst the -bales and cases, to where the steamer lay, feeling exhilarated by the -thought of our coming holiday, as if old times were back again. It was -on the verge of winter now and an exquisite afternoon. Even the filthy -Yarra looked silky and shimmering in the mild sunlight, tinted rose and -mauve by the city smoke; and the vile smells were kept down by the clean -sharpness of the air, so that I did not notice them. We were to sail at -five, but went on board early so that Tom could gather the reins into -his hand and have all shipshape before passengers arrived. - -How pleasant it was to see the way they welcomed him! Mr. Jones was -first officer now (and had babies of his own), and some of the old faces -were amongst the crew. The head steward was the same, and the head -engineer, and the black cook who made pastry so well; and they all -smiled from ear to ear at the sight of their old master, making it quite -evident to me that they had found poor Watson, as they would have found -any one else, an indifferent substitute for him. Above all, there was -the "old man," as he was irreverently styled--the important chief -owner--in person, down on purpose to receive me, with a bouquet for me -in his hand. Dear, kind old man! He was something like Captain Saunders -in his extreme admiration and respect for "pretty Mrs. Braye," as I was -told they called me, and nothing could have been friendlier than his few -words of sympathy for my trouble and his real anxiety to make me -comfortable on board. One might have imagined I was an owner myself by -the fuss they all made over me. It always gratified me--on Tom's -account--that I was never put on a level with the other captains' wives. - -I had the deck cabin again, and we went there for afternoon tea. The -steward brought cakes and tarts and all sorts of unusual things, to do -honour to the special occasion; and I put my flowers in water, wearing a -few of them, and it was all very nice and cheerful. I felt better -already, although we had not stirred from the wharf, and although a New -Zealand boat close by us was turning in the stream, stirring up the dead -cats and things with her propeller, and making a stench so powerful that -it was like pepper to the nose. - -Then, as five o'clock drew near, the "old man" went to look after -business about the ship, and Tom to put on his uniform. How splendid he -looked in it! Almost the only regret I had for his leaving the sea was -that he could no longer wear the clothes which so well became him. Talk -about the fascination of a red coat! I never could see anything in it. -But a sailor in his peaked cap and brass buttons is the finest figure in -the world. - -I was just going to meet him and tell him how nice he looked, when one -of the lady passengers who had been coming on board, and whom I had been -manoeuvring to avoid, cut across my bows, so to speak, and rushed at him -like a whirlwind. I really thought the woman was going to throw her arms -round his neck. - -"Oh, Captain Braye!" she exclaimed loudly, "how too, too charming to see -you here again. Have you come back to the Bendigo for good? Oh, how I -hope you have! Do you know, I was going to Sydney by the mail, and was -actually on my way to the P.&O. office, when somebody told me you were -taking Captain Watson's place. I said at once, 'Then no mail steamers -for me, thank you. No other captain for me if I can get Captain Braye.' -And so here I am. I managed to get packed up in a day and a half." - -I could see that Tom looked quite confused. We had both hoped so much -that the people would all be strangers who would leave us alone, and he -guessed the annoyance I should feel at the threatened curtailment of our -independence by this forward person. But there was no need for him to -inveigle her out of earshot, and there stand and talk to her for ever so -long, as if there were secrets between them not for me to overhear. I -know what she wanted--I heard her ask for it--whether she could have the -deck cabin as before! A very few seconds should have sufficed to answer -_that_ question. She was a stylish person in her way, and her clothes -were good, and the servants paid court to her; I asked one of them who -she was, and he said the "lady" of a merchant of some standing in -Melbourne--just the class of passenger we were most anxious to be -without. When their confabulation was at an end Tom brought her to the -bench where I was sitting and introduced her to me. - -"My wife, Mrs. Harris--Mrs. Harris, dear--who has sailed with me -before." - -"Often," said Mrs. Harris, extending a bejewelled hand. "We are very old -friends, the captain and I." - -"Indeed?" I said, bowing. He had never mentioned her name to me. But, as -he explained when I told him so, he couldn't be expected to remember the -names of the thousands of strangers he carried in the course of the -year. I reminded him that she considered herself not a stranger, but a -friend; and he said, with a laugh, "Oh, they all do that." - -I confess I did not take to Mrs. Harris. I should not have liked any one -coming in our way as she did, when we wanted to be free and peaceful, -but she was particularly repugnant to me. She gushed too much; she -talked too familiarly of Tom--to me also, not discriminating between -one captain's wife and another; and she accosted the servants and -officers as they passed quite as if the ship belonged to her. However, I -stood it as long as she chose to sit there, making herself pleasant, as -she doubtless supposed. As soon as it occurred to her to go and look at -her cabin I seized my hood and cloak, and went to seek sanctuary on the -bridge with Tom. It was nearly six o'clock, and he was just casting off. - -"Oh, Polly," he said, turning to me with a slightly worried air, "you -wouldn't mind staying on deck till we get down the river a bit, would -you, pet? It don't look professional, you know, for ladies to show up -here. And Mrs. Harris might----" - -I interrupted him in what he was going to say, because anything to do -with Mrs. Harris had nothing whatever to do with the case. - -"Passengers," said I, "are one thing--the captain's wife is -another--_quite_ another--and especially when the old man has asked me, -as a sort of favour to himself, to make myself at home, as he calls it. -Is he on the wharf, by the way? I should like to wave a hand to him. It -would please him awfully. Thank Heaven, we are not subject to Mrs. -Harris, nor to anybody else, on board this, ship. That's the beauty of -it." - -"I feel in a sense subject to Watson," said Tom, "and he's a punctilious -sort of chap. I don't care to seem to make too free with his -command--for it's his, not mine. And there are heaps of people about -besides the old man. You really would oblige me very much, Polly----" - -"Oh, of course, dear!" - -I saw his point of view, and at once effaced myself. I went into the -little bridge house, just behind the wheel--he was satisfied with -that--where I could see him close to me through the bow window, and -speak to him when I chose. He lit the candle lamp at the head of the -bunk, so that I could lie there and read; but I did not want to read. I -preferred to stand by the window, which held all there was of table--the -top of drawers and lockers--on which I spread my arms, propping my face -in hollowed palms, and to look out upon the river with the sunset upon -it, and the fading daylight, and the starry lights ashore. To call that -city-skirting stream romantic is to provoke the derision of those who -know it best, but it _was_ romantic that night--to me. Anything can be -romantic under certain circumstances, in certain states of atmosphere -and mind. - -We were alone together. The dinner-bell rang downstairs, but Tom never -left the bridge till he was out of the river, and I did not need to ask -him to let me share his meal. The steward brought us up a tray, and we -stood in the warm little cabin--the table was not made to sit at--and -ate roast chicken and apple pie, like travellers at a railway buffet, -Tom stepping out and back between hasty mouthfuls to see that all was -right. He was intensely business-like, and as happy as a boy at his old -work. We both had the young feeling that comes to holiday-makers who -don't have a holiday very often. I could not help it. - -Then--when we steamed out between the river lights into the bay--how we -sniffed the first breath of the salt sea! And what memories it brought -to us!--to me, at least, who had been so long away from it. The -passengers were at dinner still, and it was falling dark, and there were -no spectators save the man at the wheel, who was nothing but a voice, an -echo of the quiet word of command, most pleasant to hear; I was free to -roam the bridge from end to end, hanging to my husband's supporting -arm--to bathe myself in air that was literally new life to both of us. -Cold and clean and briny to the lips--oh, what is there to equal it in -the way of medicine for soul and body? What sort of insensate creatures -can they be who do not love the sea? - -Hobson's Bay was ruffled with a south wind--belted round with twinkling -lights that grew thicker and brighter every moment, a gleaming ring of -stars set in the otherwise invisible shores, in a dusk as soft as -velvet. Somewhere amongst them, doubtless, was the lighted window that -had once been mine, where I used to stand half a dozen lamps and candles -in a bunch, to show Tom that I was watching for him when he used to pass -out after nightfall. Our eyes turned in that direction simultaneously. - -"When we are old folks, Polly," said he, with an arm round my shoulder, -"when the kids are all grown up and out in the world, and you and I -settle down alone again, as we did at the beginning, I should like us to -have a little place somewhere where we could see blue water and the -ships going by." - -"Yes," I said at once, feeling exactly as he did--that though the farm -and our country home were well enough under present circumstances, they -would not be our choice when we had only ourselves to think of--that the -sea was the sea, in short, and had reclaimed our allegiance--"yes, that -is what we will do. We will end our married life where we began it--with -this beautiful sound in our ears!" - -We had turned the breakwater at Williamstown, and were meeting the wind -and tide of the outer bay, which was a little ocean this fresh night. -The sharp bows of the Bendigo, and her threshing screw astern, made that -noise of racing waves and running foam which was thrilling me like music -and champagne together, so that I had no words to describe the -sensation. My hair was blown hard back from my forehead and out of the -control of hairpins; my face felt as if smacked by an open hand, and I -had to screw up my eyes and pinch my lips together to stand the blow; I -felt the keen blast pierce to my skin through all the invalid wrappings -that I was swathed in--and it was lovely! Tom thought I should catch -cold, but I knew better, though I was glad to be tied into his 'possum -rug, with an oilskin overall to take the flying spray; and I insisted on -staying out with him till nearly midnight--till we had passed the -furious Rip and were battling with the real swell of the real ocean, -which tossed the steamer like a cork without making me seasick. It was -squally and galey and dark as a wolf's mouth--neither moon nor -stars--only the lighthouse lights which were all we needed, and the -white streaks in the black sea which were the long rollers coming to -meet us. And I felt as safe as--there is nothing that can give a notion -of how safe I felt. My husband took care of me as he used to do on the -Racer, only fifty thousand times more carefully, because he was my -husband. Ah, how sweet it was! With all our sorrows, how happy we were! -And might have remained so if we had not been interfered with. - -But that wretched woman spoiled it all. I had forgotten her altogether -during the evening, when dinner and darkness and the rough weather kept -her from us; I forgot her in the night, which I spent in my deck cabin -so as to leave Tom his bunk on the bridge for such snatches of sleep as -he had a mind for; the deck as well as the cabin was my own--his and -mine, for he still came down at intervals to look at me through the open -door and assure himself that I was all right--and the common herd were -under it. But when I emerged in the morning, just as the breakfast-bell -was ringing, the first thing I saw was Mrs. Harris coming down the -stairs which had "no admittance" plainly affixed to them, and Tom in -attendance on her as if she were the Queen. She descended backwards, -feeling each step with her glittering pointed shoe, slower than any -tortoise, and he guided her with one hand and held her skirts down with -the other, out of the wind. It was a windy morning, but sunshiny and -beautiful, and I had intended to enjoy my first meal in the air and in -privacy with my husband, as I had done the last. - -I suppose I looked my surprise, for they both seemed to colour up when -they perceived me standing and watching them. In one breath they bade me -a loud good morning, and made unnecessary announcements about the -weather. - -"You have been on the bridge?" I questioned, with my eyes fixed on the -brass plate which proclaimed the bridge sacred. - -"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Harris gaily. "It's the nicest place I know to be -on, especially at this time of day. Many an early visit have I paid the -captain up there, haven't I, Captain?" - -I lifted eyebrows at Tom, but he would not look. - -"Got an appetite for breakfast, Polly?" he shouted, taking my arm. "Come -along, and let's see if you don't do your doctor credit." - -"I am not going to the saloon," I returned quietly, disengaging myself; -"I am going to have my breakfast on the bridge with you." - -"But I'm not going to breakfast there. I'm off duty, and we may as well -be comfortable when we can." - -Then he congratulated us both on being such good sailors as to be able -to go to breakfast the first morning, and, not to make a fuss, I let him -take me down into the saloon, and seat me at the public table by his -side, _vis-à-vis_ with Mrs. Harris. He spoke to other passengers, -shaking hands with some, and introducing me to one or two. A rather -nice man talked to me throughout the meal, while Mrs. Harris monopolised -Tom entirely. - -This was not what I had come to sea for, and so, as soon as I had -finished, I slipped away, ran up to the bridge, got out a little chair, -and prepared for a quiet morning with my husband, where no one had the -right to disturb us. In fact, I was fully resolved to defend that -bridge, if need were, against unauthorized intruders. Mrs. Harris might -have done what she liked with it and him in those old times that she was -for ever flinging in my face. She would not do it now. - -Scarcely had I opened my workbag and threaded my needle when up she came -as bold as brass, with a yellow-back under her arm. It was too much. I -felt that, if I were to make any stand at all, it must be now or never, -or I should be altogether trodden under foot. So I looked at her with an -air of calm inquiry, and said, "Oh! Mrs. Harris--do you want anything?" - -"No, thanks," she replied in an off-hand tone. "The steward is bringing -up my chair." - -"Bringing it _up?--here?_" - -"Certainly. Why not?" - -"Only that--perhaps you don't know--nobody is allowed on the bridge. The -notice is stuck up against the stairs." - -"Then why are you here?" she retorted, bristling. - -"I am the captain's wife." - -"I presume the captain's wife is as much a passenger as the rest of us," -she argued, with an offensive laugh. "I presume the captain can do what -he likes with his own bridge, at any rate. If _he_ gives one the freedom -of the city, one certainly has it, beyond question; and I have always -been accustomed to sit here when travelling with him. Thank you, -steward--in this corner, please." - -She took possession of her chair. - -"If one person has the freedom of the city," I said, trying to keep my -voice from shaking, "all should have it. He has no business to make -distinctions where all are equal." - -"All are not equal," she cried, reddening. And I remembered that she was -a considerable person in her own eyes. But I said firmly, "Pardon me. -All who pay the same fares are on the same footing--or should be. And -there is not room here for everybody." - -"The captain," said she, "can entertain his friends as he chooses, and I -am one of his oldest friends, besides being related to his owners. And -as for his having no business to do this or that--oh, my dear Mrs. -Braye, do allow the poor man to know his own business best--I assure you -he knows it perfectly, nobody better--and let him be master, at any -rate, on his ship, whatever he may be in his home." - -She laughed again, as she settled herself and opened her book. I was -simply speechless with indignation. But, even had I been able to speak, -I was not one to bandy words with that sort of person. I just rolled up -my work, quietly rose, and went downstairs to my cabin on deck. - -"Why do you go away?" she asked, as I passed her. "Isn't the bridge big -enough for us both?" - -"No," I replied. And that was my last word to her. - -Going down the stairs, I met Tom coming up. He said, "Hullo, Polly, -where are you off to?" I looked at him steadily--that's all. And his -face clouded over. He passed on, leaving me alone. - -But they were not long together. Five minutes later I heard her voice -suddenly through the open port of my cabin--that horrible deck cabin, -where I was surrounded and pressed upon by talking, boot-clumping -passengers, who just could not spy in upon me because I had door shut -and window curtain down. Doubtless she did it on purpose. She must have -known where I was, seeing that I was not on the bridge or sitting out on -deck. She was speaking to some man of her acquaintance. - -"It is always a mistake," she said, "for captains to have their wives on -board. I wonder the owners allow it. It spoils the comfort of the other -passengers--who, after all, are the chief persons to be considered--and -demoralises the poor fellows to such an extent that they are not like -the same men. Look at Captain Braye, whom I've known for ages--the -dearest old boy you can imagine when he's let alone--it's pitiful to see -him henpecked and cowed, and afraid to call his soul his own, shaking in -his very shoes before that vixen of a woman!" Her companion said -something that I could not hear--I believe it was my pleasant neighbour -at breakfast whom she was trying to set against me--and then she put on -the crowning touch. "It is always the fate of those exceptionally nice -men," said she, "to marry women who don't know how to appreciate them." - -I wondered for a moment if I could have heard aright. It was hard to -believe in such consummate insolence--such a wild, malignant, perversion -of facts. To talk of _Tom_ as a henpecked husband! To dub _me_, of all -people in the world, a vixen!! To say that I--_I_--did not appreciate -him!!! The thing was too utterly ludicrous to be taken seriously, and -yet it made me so angry that I could hardly contain myself. It made me -feel that it would have been a pleasure to rush out upon her and tear -her hair from her head, just like the real vixens do. I felt that my -husband, who was also the commander of the ship, ought to have spared me -this gross indignity, which could not have occurred if he had respected -his position, and kept himself to himself. - -Knowing that she was not with him now, I went back to the bridge. But -alas and alas! The bridge, that had been a little paradise, was a place -despoiled. Though the serpent had gone out of it, she had been there and -poisoned everything. Tom was not the same to me. All the pleasure of our -trip was at an end. I had a wretched day, and at night a gale came on, -and I was seasick for the first time. He did not know it, and I would -not send for him. Oh, it was horrible! It was tragical! It was -heart-breaking! I can't talk about it any more. - - * * * * * - -People came to meet her at Sydney, but she could not leave without a -ceremonious good-bye to her dear captain. She was calling for him -everywhere while he was busy making fast, and when she got him she shook -hands two or three times over, standing apart with him as at first, -regardless of me. Goodness knows I did not want to intrude, yet it was -impossible to help noticing the fuss she made. I heard her say--I am -quite _sure_ I heard her--that she was coming back with us; meaning, of -course, with him. She explained that she had but a day's business to do -in Sydney, and would then be able to return by the "dear old Bendigo"--I -distinctly caught those three words, in her high-pitched voice. And I -thought to myself that this would really be more than I could -stand--more than I could in reason be expected to stand. In fact, I was -so enraged that I was strongly tempted to put it to my husband that he -must make his choice between her and me. However, on second thoughts, I -perceived that it would be more dignified to say nothing, but to let my -acts speak for me. We had never been accustomed to bicker between -ourselves, he and I, and to a certain extent he was not responsible for -the situation. Any one not suffering from madness or an infectious -disease had the right to travel in the ship; he could not help it. But -if he could not turn the otherwise objectionable person off, he could -keep him or her in the passengers' proper place. My grievance with him -was that he did not keep that woman in her place. - -Being quite determined not to have another voyage with her, and not -wishing to say nasty things to him about it, I was glad when an old -acquaintance, paying us a call on board, asked me to stay awhile with -her, for the further benefit of my health, representing that the time -covered by the sea trip was all too short to recruit in. - -"Thank you very much," I answered, on the spur of the moment. "I really -think I will. I was never in Sydney but once, and then I had no chance -to see the beauties of the place, of which I have heard so much; and I -daresay it would do me good to have a longer change." - -I was aware of Tom's utter, silent astonishment, but I would not look at -him; I left him to read the riddle for himself. When he spoke it was to -quietly fall in with the proposal, adding suggestions that would have -made it difficult for me to draw back if I had wanted to do so. He was -so ready to leave me, indeed, that I fancied he _wanted_ to get rid of -me--of course he did not, but any one would have thought so--and -naturally that made me bitter. I spoke but little to him afterwards, and -he was certainly cold to me---he seemed to divine my suspicions and to -resent them--and I did not go to see him off; I could not. In short, our -holiday was entirely and irreparably ruined. - -I believe I cried nearly the whole time that I was in Sydney. It did -seem hard, in my state of health and under the sad circumstances, to be -stranded amongst strangers, who did not understand my sorrows, nor my -habits of life, and gave me none of the little pettings and coddlings -that I needed and was accustomed to; and the thought of that woman going -home with Tom, having the deck cabin, sitting on the bridge with him of -nights, making free with the whole ship, usurping my place and -privileges, drove me simply frantic--until one day I met her in the -street, and found she had not gone with him after all. - -Shaken all to pieces with the awful overland journey, more dead than -alive, I reached home a day or two after him, and discovered him calmly -digging the garden, as if he had forgotten my very existence. When he -saw me he smiled in an odd, constrained way, and said, as though it -didn't matter one way or the other: "Well, Polly? Had about enough of -it?" - -Angry as I was with him, I could not maintain any dignity at all--I was -too spent and weary. I broke down completely, and he took me into the -tool-shed to comfort me--took me into his arms, where I had simply ached -to be ever since I had left them, driven out by that detestable little -scheming, mischief-making snake-in-the-grass. - -"Oh," I sobbed, when I could find words and strength to utter them, "how -_could_ you leave me behind? How _could_ you abandon me like that, when -I was so ill and unhappy?" - -"Because," said he, "you wanted to be left. You distinctly asked and -were determined to be left. As for abandoning--it's I that was -abandoned, it seems to me." - -"You _knew_ I did not want to be left," I urged--for of course he knew. -"You must have seen that I only did it because I was vexed." - -"And what were you vexed about?" he inquired. "I must be too dense and -stupid for anything, but I'll be shot if I can understand you this time, -Polly." - -I told him that he was dense and stupid indeed, or he would not need to -ask the question. But when I told him, further, what it was that had -vexed me, he said that in some ways, when it came to denseness and -stupidity, he was not a patch on me. - -Of course it was not his fault in the very least. It was all hers. - - * * * * * - -P.S.--I have forgiven her now. Poor thing, it was only a manner with -her; she meant no harm. I did not see it then--no one could have seen -it, and I do not blame myself for being imposed on by appearances that -would have deceived a very angel, which I confess I am not, though the -least suspicious and uncharitable of women--but I became convinced of it -afterwards. - -It was when my Harry was made _dux_ of his school, a year later than he -would have been but for the favouritism of a master, who deliberately -miscalculated examination marks. Harry, by the way, will not allow that -this was the case, but that is his modesty and his feeling for the -honour of the school; he does not know as much about it as I do. I was -told on the best authority that he ought to have had the position, being -far and away (as I well knew) the cleverest boy, and that a certain -master had a "set" or "down" on him because he had caricatured the -wretch on the blackboard. It was another sixth-form fellow who said he -felt sure the figures must be wrong when he heard the result. - -However, there was no mistake about it this time. I, at any rate, was -sure of it, when I dressed for the Speech Day function, although the -names in the prize list were supposed to be unknown beforehand. Besides, -I had only to look at his face, calmly elated, the eyes twinkling with -suppressed excitement, to see that he had the secret--to be assured that -his merits were to meet their just reward at last. But there were some -mothers who allowed their mother's partiality to run away with them. I -heard of two who, up to the last moment, fully expected _their_ sons to -come out top. And Mrs. Harris was one of these. - -There was some justification for hope on her part, because young Harris -was really a very industrious, plodding fellow, and had always given a -good account of himself. He had not half Harry's brains, of course, but -he had great application and perseverance, and the moral of the hare -and tortoise fable is often exemplified in these cases. Especially when -the hare is such an all-round genius as my boy, a prize-taker for -goal-kicking, the mile handicap and the long jump, as well as for work -in class. Several times I had heard Harry say, with quite a serious air, -that the only one he was afraid of was Harris, and they stuck very close -together through the examinations, as far as the figures were known. So -when she crushed into the seat in front of me, gorgeously dressed and -beaming, nodding to right and left, I saw how it was. She was prepared -for any amount of envious notice and congratulation, quite thinking she -was going to outshine me. I smiled--I could not help it. But I was glad -afterwards that she had not seen me smile. - -I was also glad that Tom had not been able to accompany us this time, -though grieved for the cause--an accident to his foot while -tree-chopping. Our proximity to the maker of so much trouble in the -past, as to which we were still sore and reticent, might have rendered -the situation uncomfortable and altered its development altogether. -Harry had escorted me and his eldest sister--she a perfect dream, though -I say it, in pink cambric and a white muslin hat--and had now left us to -go and sit with his comrades at the back of the hall, whence a deafening -noise arose continuously, most exhilarating to hear. Dear lads! I -screwed my head round to look and laugh at their delightful antics, and -the figure of my fine boy leading all the revelry, until Phyllis's face -showed her sense of the indecorum of the proceeding. Children are so -dreadfully proper where their parents are concerned, and I am always -forgetting that I have to sit up and look dignified if I would have -their approval and respect. - -When the hall was crowded so that not another creature could squeeze -into it, a fresh demonstration heralded the entrance of the headmaster, -hooded and gowned, escorting the distinguished visitors, chief of whom -was the Exalted Personage who had consented to distribute the prizes. -They packed the daïs, round the book-piled table; the boys yelled and -thumped the floor with their boot-heels, sung a Latin hymn with all -their might, subsided with difficulty, and allowed the formal -proceedings to begin. I sat in a perfect simmer of joyous excitement and -expectation, fully equal to theirs, and I noticed that Mrs. Harris's -face was flushed and that she kept smiling to herself in a vague way, -restless and fidgety. Poor thing! Her boy was an only son, like mine, -and she was one of those many love-blind mothers who mistake their geese -for swans. I saw quite plainly that she had no suspicion of the truth, -and was sorry for her. Some one ought to have given her a hint. - -The headmaster read his annual report--every paragraph punctuated with -vociferous cheers from the back benches--and the Exalted Personage made -a speech, unnecessarily diffuse. Then there was a shuffling and -whispering and readjustment of the blocks of books on the table, the -E.P. advanced to the front of the daïs, the H.M. lined up beside him -with his list, and after a few little preliminaries (the awarding of a -couple of scholarships) the great moment arrived. Although I had known -so certainly what would happen, when it did happen I literally jumped -from my seat. - -"_Dux_ of School--_Henry Thomas Beauchamp Braye._" - -My heart seemed to leap into my throat, I clasped my hands, I suppose I -made some exclamation unconsciously, for Phyllis plucked at my sleeve -and whispered "Hush-sh!" quite fiercely. The child was not grown-up -then, but still thought herself competent to teach me how to behave in -public. She sat herself like any stock or stone, an image of propriety, -as if it was a matter of no concern to her at all that her brother was -set on the highest pinnacle of honour that a schoolboy could reach. - -He came striding up the hall like a young prince, with none of that shy -awkwardness which made the other boys look so clumsy, and his mates -cheered him to the echo as he mounted the platform to receive his load -of prize-books and the congratulations of all the great folks. I never -saw anything prettier than his quiet bows, his modest and yet dignified -bearing, and his kind way with the fellows who crowded up to shake hands -with him when he came down amongst them again, helping him to carry his -trophies and making a regular royal progress of his return to his seat. -I noticed young Harris amongst the first of these, and thought to myself -that a defeated rival who could behave so nicely to the successful one -must have the essential spirit of a gentleman in him. And I found it was -so when I came to know him. - -A little later, when the lesser prizes were being disposed of, and the -interest of the proceedings was not so all-absorbing--as I just sat in -placid ecstasy, thinking of nothing but my own happiness--a movement in -front of me brought his poor mother to my mind. She had ceased to -fidget, and I had forgotten to notice her. Now she rose slowly, in a -fumbling sort of way, remarking to a lady near her that the heat of the -hall was insufferable and was making her faint. It was very hot, and -she looked faint, with all the colour gone from her cheeks and her lips -twitching and trembling; but, oh, _I_ knew what the trouble was! Poor, -stricken soul! She felt just as I should have felt had I been in her -place--just as I had felt a year ago when told that that pig-faced -Middleton boy had ousted Harry--and my heart bled for her. Of course she -pretended not to see me as she passed out--I should have done the same -had our positions been reversed--and must have almost wanted to murder -me, indeed; but--well, mothers have a fellow-feeling at these times, -under all the feelings common to humanity at large. I could not resist -the impulse that came to me. She had no sooner disappeared through the -nearest door, seeking the fresh air for her faintness, than I, defiant -of my daughter's dumb protests, got up and went out after her. - -She was leaning against the grey wall, holding her handkerchief to her -eyes. When she heard me she turned and glared, like a strange cat that -you have penned into a corner. The next moment we were in each other's -arms, and she was sobbing on my neck with the abandonment of a child. - -And we have been the greatest friends ever since. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -DEPOSED. - - -The little sound that is as common as silence--a familiar step, a -murmured word, an opening door--one hears it a thousand times with -contented indifference, as one hears the singing of the tea-kettle. But -one day it falls on the heart as well as on the ear, like the stroke of -a swift sword. It seems exactly the same, but one knows at once that it -is not the same. In the twentieth part of a second one recognises the -voice of a dire calamity--especially if one is a mother, and has heard -it before. - -Tom came into the house by way of the kitchen, and I heard him say to -Jane, in quite a quiet tone, "Where's Mrs. Braye?" That was all. I -sprang from my chair, wild with terror, dropping my needlework to the -floor. For I knew--I knew--I didn't want to be told--that something had -happened to Harry. My boy! my boy! I had been scolding him, only an hour -ago, for making love to Lily's governess--a minx, whom I had just -requested to find another situation--and he had slammed the door almost -in my face on leaving me. I had been longing for Tom to come in, that I -might tell him all about it, and have a little cry on his shoulder, and -my dignity and authority in the house supported; but now that he was -here my tongue was paralysed. And I had no grievance, but an -immeasurable remorse. - -"Don't be frightened," said my husband, trembling, in a would-be -off-hand voice, "it's nothing very serious--just a bad shaking--I told -him that new mare of his wasn't to be trusted, and there was a nasty -stone just where she threw him. He's stunned a bit, that's all--no bones -broken. I have sent for the doctor. Now look here, Polly----" - -He opened his arms across the doorway, but I broke through them -furiously. Did he remember the night when little Bobby shot himself, -trying to get an opossum skin for his mother's birthday? I was not kept -back then. We ran together, hand in hand, to meet our common woe, and I -was first at the spot, and it was on my breast that he lay to breathe -his last. Why not now, when a worse thing had befallen me? No, I don't -mean that; nothing could be worse--except that every year your child is -with you adds innumerable fresh strands to the rope of woven -heart-strings already binding you to him, and thus makes more to bleed -and ache when the wrench comes. And Harry was -twenty-three--twenty-three, and over six feet, and the handsomest young -fellow in the whole country! I flew full speed to find him, and see what -they were doing to him. It was my mother's right, which a dozen fathers -should not deprive me of. - -At the garden gate I met the procession coming in. They carried him -carefully on a mattress, over saplings roped together. A little rabble -of people followed, one of them leading the fiend that had done the -mischief, a vicious, half-broken, buck-jumping brute that had worried us -for a long time, although Harry always trusted his own fine horsemanship -to get the better of her tantrums. And rightly, too. If he had not been -in a bad temper, poor darling, and doubtless running risks for the -perverse satisfaction of doing so, because of the mood he was in, -nothing in the shape of a horse could have thrown him. He was -notoriously the best rider of the day--at any rate, of our -neighbourhood. - -I slammed the gate to shut out everybody, and the bearers lowered his -litter, and I bent over him. He did not know me. When I leaned down to -listen if he breathed, I saw a little bubble of blood oozing from his -mouth; then I knew that he was more than stunned--that it was worse even -than broken bones. I left off crying, and became quite calm. I had to. - -We were sliding him from the mattress to his bed when Dr. Juke arrived, -and he made us stop and let him do it; for, though my poor lad seemed -unconscious, he panted and grunted in a way that showed we were hurting -him, with all our care. The doctor felt and lifted his limbs, and said -they were all right, and then undressed him as he lay; I got my large -cutting-out scissors, and we hacked his good clothes to pieces--but that -didn't matter--until we left him only his shirt and woollen singlet, and -even those we cut. And just as we were finishing making him comfortable, -as we hoped, he came to and looked at us. My precious boy! His breathing -was short and fluttery, and he seemed too full of pain to speak, except -in gasps. - -"Oh, my side! my side!" - -He wailed like a child--a sound to drive a mother mad. - -Dr. Juke said, "Ah, I thought so." And, having made a little -examination, he reported a fracture of the ribs, with some injury to the -lung. He whispered something to Tom, and then told me I had better send -for a trained nurse, and said it would be as well to get a good surgeon -from town also, so as to be on the safe side. - -I was willing enough to send for a dozen surgeons--though I had perfect -faith in Juke, who was a clever young man, newly out from home and up to -date, an enthusiast in his profession--but I could not bear the thought -of a professional nurse. I knew those women--how they take possession of -your nearest and dearest, and treat even an old mother as if she were a -mere outsider and an utter ignoramus. I protested that I could do all -that was necessary--that no one could possibly take the care of him that -I should. Was it likely? - -"But he will probably want nursing all day and all night for weeks," -said Dr. Juke. "You could not do that unaided. You would break down, and -then where would he be?" - -"I will telegraph for my daughter," I rejoined. Phyllis was away at the -time, visiting. - -"Miss Braye is too young and inexperienced," he objected, with the airs -of a grandfather. "It would not be fair to her. She is better where she -is, out of all the trouble. However, there is no need to decide -immediately. We'll see the night through first. All we can do for the -present is to make him as easy as possible and watch symptoms. The -_most_ important thing is not to meddle with him." - -This seemed a hard saying, and at first I could not credit it. It was -terrible to see nothing done, when he evidently suffered so--more and -more as the first shock passed and the dreadful fever rose and rose; but -while the lung was letting blood and air into the cavity of the chest, -which could not be reached to stop the leak, handling of any sort only -aggravated the mischief. The doctor explained this to me when I was -impatient, and I had to own that he was probably right. He asked me to -see about drinks and nourishment, and when I left the room to do so I -had a mind to seize the opportunity for a few frantic tears in private, -impelled by the pent-up anguish I could not otherwise relieve. - -But outside the door--Harry's door--I came upon Miss Blount. The little -fool was crying herself--as if it were any concern of hers!--and looked -a perfect sight with her swelled nose and sodden cheeks. Somehow I -couldn't stand it, on the top of all the rest--I just took her by the -arm and marched her back to the schoolroom. I hope I was not rough or -unkind--I really don't think I was--but to see her you would have -thought she was a ridiculous little martyr being led to the stake. I -said to her--quite quietly, without making any fuss--"My dear, while you -remain in this house--until the notice I have been compelled by our -contract to give you has expired--oblige me by keeping in your proper -place and confining your attention to your proper business." - -Just as if I had not spoken--and I am sure she never heard a word--she -turned on me at the schoolroom door and clutched at my dress. With both -hands she held on to me, so that I really could not get away from her. - -"Oh, tell me, tell me," she cried, with a lackadaisical whine, as if we -were playing melodrama at a cheap theatre, "_What_ does the doctor say? -Is he, oh, _is_ he going to die?" - -I replied--cuttingly, I am afraid--that the doctor seemed perfectly -well. There was no sign of dying, that I could see, about him. - -Then she said "Harry!" Yes, to my very face! As if she had a right to -call my son by his christian name. I was greatly exasperated; any mother -would have been--especially after what had happened. - -I answered, "_Mr_. Harry _is_ going to die--_thanks to you_, Miss -Blount." - -I truly believed that he was, and I honestly thought that it was her -doing; because if she had not misconducted herself, and tempted him to -do so, I should not have had to scold him, and he would not have gone -out in a rage, to ride a young horse recklessly. Still, it has occurred -to me since that perhaps I was not quite just to her, poor thing. - -Oh, what a night that was! Temperature 103 degrees, and a short, -agonising cough catching the hurt side, which he was obliged to lie on, -because the other lung had to do the work of both. We padded him with -the softest pillows in the house, and tried ice, and -sedatives--everything we could think of; but we could not soothe the -struggling chest, which was the only way to stop the inward bleeding. -And he kept up a sort of grinding moan, like a long "u" in French--worse -than shrieks. It was too, too cruel! I wonder my hair did not turn -white. - -Next day we got the surgeon from town; the day after, the nurse. But I -came to an understanding with her before she set foot in Harry's room. I -bade her remember that he was my son, and that a mother could not -consent to be superseded. She asked if she were to be allowed to carry -out the doctor's orders, and when I said "Yes, of course," she seemed -satisfied. She was a good creature. After all, I don't know what we -should have done without her. There is a limit to one's strength, and -though Phyllis was a great help outside the sick-room, we did not think -it right--Dr. Juke did not think it right--to let her be much in it. - -She came home as soon as she heard what had happened, in spite of his -advice. I went downstairs one day, and found her sitting in the deserted -drawing-room, with her hat on, talking to him; I thought he had gone an -hour ago, but he had seen her arriving, and stayed to break things to -her and give her all the particulars, before she met the rest of us. He -was somewhat inclined to be officious, though he meant well. - -I exclaimed in astonishment at the sight of her. - -"It was no good, mother; I had to come," said she, rising quickly and -taking out her hat-pins. "And I did not warn you, for fear you should -prevent me. Don't scold me--Dr. Juke doesn't. I want to help, and he -says I can be a lot of use." - -"Invaluable," said Juke, in a young man's gushing manner. "It was only -for your own sake, Miss Phyllis, that I wished you out of it." - -She is not Miss Phyllis, by the way, but Miss Braye. - -"I mean to be everybody's right hand," she continued, trying to cheer -me. "We are not going to let you kill yourself any more, mother dear. -And we are not going to let Harry die, either--are we, Dr. Juke?" - -"No, no," replied the doctor, with an exaggerated air of reassuring me, -as if pacifying a timid child. "We'll pull him through amongst us. The -sight of your face"--it was not my face he meant--"will be the best -medicine he can have. Only, remember, you must not talk to him." - -"I know--I know. You will find that I shall be discretion itself." - -She was quite gay. I could see that she did not yet realise the -situation, poor child, whatever Juke had told her about it. But when I -took her upstairs, and showed her the changed face in the sick-room, she -was shocked enough. She and her brother were devoted to each other. They -used to go to their little parties and entertainments together, and -everybody used to remark upon their looks and say what a handsome pair -they made. He thought--that is, he used to think, before other girls -spoiled him--that there was no one like his sister Phyllis, and she -thought the same of him. Nevertheless, when I told her of his conduct -with Miss Blount, she was quite indignant. She said she would never have -believed it of him. At the same time she was firmly convinced, as I was, -that Miss Blount had done the love-making and led him on. What a comfort -it was to have my dear girl to talk to and confide in! She was not only -a lovely young creature--though I say it--but had the sense of an old -woman. Lily was quite different. But then Lily was a child--barely -seventeen--and she had an absurd infatuation for her governess, such as -you often see in a raw schoolgirl. It was a stupid mistake on my part to -engage a person of twenty-two to teach her--I saw it now; and I think it -a still greater mistake to confer University degrees on such young -women. You seem to expect them to be above the imbecilities of ordinary -girls, and they are not a bit. - -Well, we shut them up together in a separate part of the house, giving -them their meals in the schoolroom. We did not want Lily to be losing -the education we were paying so much for, and Tom and I just took our -food as we could get it. We had no heart to sit down to table. Sometimes -he slept for a little, and sometimes I, but one or the other of us was -always on guard; while Phyllis prepared the iced milk and soda, and -waited on the nurse and doctor. Certainly the doctor was most devoted; -he could not have done more for his patient if he had been his own -brother. - -I am sure it was the opinion of his medical colleague that Harry could -never pull through. He said, in so many words, that the case was as -grave as possible, owing chiefly, as I understood, to the accumulation -of fluid in the chest, which could not be mechanically dealt with. -Nevertheless, the dear boy rallied a little, and then a little more--the -fever keeping down in the daytime, and not running quite so high at -night--until it really seemed that we might begin to hope. He was such a -splendid young fellow, and had such a magnificent constitution! But for -that I am convinced he could not have survived an hour. One afternoon he -was sleeping so comfortably that they all insisted on my going out for -some fresh air. Tom took me for a walk round the garden, and we planned -what we would do for our beloved one when he got well--how we would go -for a little travel to amuse and cheer him, to recruit his strength and -distract his mind from nonsense. - -When I returned, I found that he had awakened from his sleep, calm and -refreshed; that he had asked to see his sister Lily, and--that that fool -of a nurse had allowed it! Oh, I could have shaken her! As it was, I -gave her a talking to that she sulked over for a week. Lily, she said, -had only remained with him ten minutes--as if one minute wouldn't have -been enough to undo all our work! _Idiot!_ And to call herself a trained -nurse, too! - -As soon as I approached his bed I saw the difference. Not only had he -been doing so well, he had been so nice to me, so loving and gentle, as -if feeling that all was right between us. Now he was flushed--I knew his -temperature had gone up again--and he looked at me as if I were his -enemy instead of his mother. - -"Is it true," he said, "that you have given Miss Blount notice?" - -I did not know what to say. Seeing the absolute necessity for keeping -him quiet, I tried to put the question aside. But he would have an -answer. - -"Dearest," I pleaded, "I am doing for the best. And you will be the -first to acknowledge it when you are yourself again. It is for her -sake," I added, though I'm sure I don't know why I said that. - -He continued to look at me as if I were a graven image, insensible to -the tears that filled my eyes. And he looked _so_ handsome--even in this -wreck of health--a fit husband for a queen. - -"Mother," he said, in a stern way, "if you do a thing so unjust as that -I will never forgive you." - -Ah, Harry! Harry! And after all I had done for him--slaving night and -day! After all the love and care, the heart's blood, that I had lavished -on him for nearly twenty-four years! - -"Unjust!" I repeated, cut to the quick. "My boy, I may have my faults--I -daresay I have--nobody is perfect in this world; but my worst enemy -cannot lay it to my charge that I have ever committed an injustice." - -He smiled, but it was a hard smile. And the nurse came up, as bold as -you please, to tell me I must be silent, as I was exciting him. _I_ -exciting him! It was then I gave her that talking to. - -Well, he had been getting on as satisfactorily as possible up to this -point. But now, of course, he went back. His temperature was 104 degrees -in the night, and he complained of pains and uneasiness, and turned -against his nourishment, light and liquid as it was. When he did get a -snatch of sleep, his breathing was as restless as possible. Sometimes it -went fast, and sometimes it seemed to stop, and then he would suddenly -give a deep snore, and a jump that hurt his side and roused him. After -which he would lie still a little while, staring at the wall. His eyes -were full of fever, and presently he began to talk, and we could not -make out what he was saying, except that little huzzy's name--Emily. He -kept saying "Emily"--no, "Emmie"--as if he thought she was in the same -room. Once I fancied he called me, and when I went to him he put up his -poor hands--already so thin and bleached!--and I thought he wanted to be -forgiven and be friends with his mother again. But, just as I was -dropping on my knees beside him to take him into my arms, he said, "Kiss -me, Emmie." And, oh, in such a voice! It made me feel--but I can't -describe how it made me feel. - -And next day he had a shivering fit, and the day after another, with -more fever than ever when they had passed off--a thirst like fire, and -pain in breathing, and delirium, and everything that was bad and -hopeless. Dr. Juke said it meant blood-poisoning, and that he had -expected it from the first; but I did not believe it. For was he not -doing beautifully up to the moment when Lily was allowed to see him and -upset him with her tales? This time we sent for two doctors from -Melbourne, and they and Juke were closeted together for an hour after -making their examination; and, when they came out at last, they said -they were agreed that our boy was in so desperate a state that nothing -short of a miracle could save him. - -I called the girls into my room to break it to them, and we sat on the -sofa at the foot of my bed and had our cry together. I was completely -broken down. So was poor Lily. She sobbed so violently that I was afraid -Harry would hear her. Phyllis was more composed--she always was--and -refused to despair as long as life was in him. She professed contempt -for the great doctors, and pinned her faith to Juke. Juke had told her -that miracles, in his profession, were constantly happening, and that -for his part he did not mean to give up the fight until all was over. - -"I believe, mother," said my brave girl, "that he will succeed, after -all, in spite of those old fogies. He knows a lot more than they do, and -he says there's no calculating the power of youth and a sound -constitution in these cases. He says----" - -But I was too wretched to listen to her. They were not old fogies to -me--those two experienced men--and a young doctor is but a young doctor, -however clever; I found it impossible to hope at this juncture. Lily was -kneeling by me with her arms round my waist, quite hysterical with -grief; and for the moment I felt that she was more in sympathy with me -than her sister. I realised my mistake when the child suddenly sprang to -her feet, hitting my chin with her head as she did so, and declared that -she must go to "poor Miss Blount." - -"Lily," I cried, as she was flinging out of the room in her impetuous -fashion, "what are strangers at such a time as this?" - -"Nothing," said Lily, in a brazen way--she would never have spoken to -her mother in that tone if she had not been encouraged; "but Miss Blount -is not a stranger. She loves Harry, and Harry loves her, and she's -broken-hearted, and she's ill, and she's nearly out of her mind, and -nobody ever says a kind word to her! Even now that he's dying, and they -can't have each other, you treat her as if she were dirt. Poor, poor -Emily! Let me go to her! Now that Harry's dying, she's got nobody--not a -soul in this house--but me!" - -Well, indeed! Who'd be a mother, if she could foresee what would come of -it? To have this blow, on the top of all the rest, and at _such_ a -moment! I felt quite stunned. At first I could only stare at her--I -could not speak; then I said, "Go, go!" and pointed to the door. For I -could bear no more. - -As soon as she was gone, I turned to my faithful Phyllis, put my head on -her shoulder, and sobbed like a baby. - -"Oh, Phyllis," I cried, "never you get married, my dear! Never you have -children, to suffer through them as I suffer!" - -She was wiser than I, however. She said she didn't think it was -altogether the children's fault. - -I admitted it at once. "You are quite right," I said, "and I was wrong. -It is not the children's fault. It's the fault of that hateful creature, -who has set them both against me. First Harry, then Lily--the very one -she was hired to teach her duty to! Fancy a governess, calling herself a -governess, and a B.A. to boot, corrupting an innocent young girl, a mere -child, with all the details of a clandestine love intrigue! What infamy! -What treachery!" I was beside myself when I thought of it. Any mother -would have been. - -But Phyllis was not a mother, and she was but lukewarm in this matter -upon which I felt so strongly. Indeed, I was half inclined to fear that -she, too, had become infected by the evil influence amongst us, until I -found that it was Dr. Juke who had been putting ideas into her head. -Dr. Juke was undoubtedly very clever, and we were enormously indebted to -him; still, I have always felt that he was too fond of giving his -opinion upon things that were altogether outside his province. It -appeared he had been telling Phyllis that it was very bad for Harry to -have any trouble on his mind, and that it was absolutely necessary, if -we would give him his full chances of recovery, to remove any that we -knew of which could be removed. - -"After all," said Phyllis, in a tone that showed how he had talked her -over, "she's a ladylike person enough, and certainly a clever one." - -"Clever, indeed," I retorted, "to have caught a man like him! And -looking all the while as demure and innocent as a nun--as if butter -wouldn't melt in her mouth! Oh, Phyllis, it would blight his career for -ever." - -"Perhaps not," she rejoined tolerantly--for she was too young to know; -"but even so, I would rather have him blight his career than die." - -"You speak," I cried--"you actually speak as if _I_ wanted him to die!" - -Here Tom came in, and when she saw her father she got up to leave us -together. I was glad indeed to have him to myself for a few minutes. We, -at any rate, understood each other. He has his faults, dear fellow, and -I often get impatient with him; but he loves me--he thinks the world of -me--he doesn't question my judgment and criticise my conduct, as the -children do. I was going to tell him about Lily, and about what Juke had -said to Phyllis; but when he took me into his great, strong, kind arms, -I was too overcome to utter a word. I could do nothing but weep. Nor -could he. We thought how we had toiled and slaved to make our precious -boy the man he was--how we had nursed him through his baby illnesses, -and pinched ourselves to send him to public school and University, and -been so proud of his beauty and his talents and his achievements, and -looked forward with such joy to the name he would make in the world; -and how we were to lose him after all, just as we were looking for the -reward of our love and labours--and in this truly awful way! - -Tom said it was quite certain now that he would die. Blood-poisoning had -set in; there were swellings in some muscles of his body to prove it--a -fatal symptom, as every one knew. It only needed to spread to an -internal organ, and the machine would stop at once. - -"And the sooner it's over, the better," groaned Tom, "and the poor -chap's sufferings at an end. Ah, Polly, old girl, little we thought of -this when he was born, and we were as vain as two peacocks over him! Do -you remember how you brought him up to Sydney, because you couldn't wait -till I got home--and we had him on the bridge at night when the -passengers were a-bed below----" - -"Oh, don't!" I wailed in agony. Remember it! Did I not remember it? And -a hundred thousand heart-breaking things. - -But we had to compose ourselves as best we could, and go back to our -dreadful duties; he to see that the doctors had a proper lunch before -they left, I to renew my watch in the sick-room--to see the last, as I -supposed, of my dying boy. - -On my way I came upon Jane hurrying along the passage with a basin of -hot broth. Harry was not allowed animal food, so I stopped her to ask -what she was doing with it. - -"Taking it to Miss Blount," she replied; and I fancied she did not speak -quite so respectfully as usual. "That poor young lady hardly touches her -meals, and it do go to my heart to see her look so ill. I thought -perhaps a drop of good soup'd tempt her." - -Now I did not want to get the character--which I am the last person to -deserve--of being a hard woman. I am not one of those low creatures that -one reads of in novels who don't know how to treat a governess properly. -To me Miss Blount was as much a lady as I was myself, and I had always -made a point of considering her in anything. Besides, it was not the -time for animosities. All was changed in view of Harry's approaching -death. She could not injure him any more. So I took the little tray -from Jane, and said to her, "Go back to your kitchen, and attend to the -doctors' lunch. I will take the broth to Miss Blount, and find out what -is the matter with her." - -The girl was in her bedroom. When she saw me she jumped up, as scared as -if I had been an ogress come to eat her; but when I first opened the -door she was kneeling against her bed, as if saying her prayers. -Certainly, she did look ill. She had had a very nice complexion--no -doubt poor Harry had noticed it--and her eyes were good; but now her -skin was like tallow, and her eyes all dark and washed out, and they had -a curious empty expression in them that I did not like at all. I put the -tray on the drawers and went up to her, and laid my hand on her -shoulder. "My dear," I said, as kindly as I could speak, "I have brought -you a little nourishing broth, that I think will do you good. And you -must take it at once, while it is hot, to please me." - -She did not so much as say thank you, but just stood and stared in a -dazed, fixed way, like a deaf mute. So, naturally, I did not feel -inclined to bother myself further about her, and I turned to go. As soon -as I did that, however, she spoke to me, calling my name. Her voice had -a sort of lost sound in it, as if she were talking in her sleep. - -"Mrs. Braye," she said, "there's something I have been wanting to say to -you." - -"What is it?" I inquired. - -"If Mr. Harry gets well, I will not marry him--to blight his career. I -never would have injured him, and I never will. I would die sooner." - -Well, it seemed rather late to think of that. Still, it showed a nice -spirit, and I liked the way she spoke of him. She really was a lady, in -her way, and--poor thing!--she did look the picture of misery. I am a -tender-hearted woman, and I could not but feel a pang of pity for her. - -"Ah, my dear," I said, "there's no question of marrying or not now! He -is going fast, and nothing matters any more." - -Then I kissed her--I kissed her affectionately--and bade her lie down, -and not trouble about Lily's lessons; and I told her that whenever there -was a change in Harry's condition I would let her know. - -The change came a few days later--not suddenly, but creeping inch by -inch; and it was not the change we had all anticipated. My splendid boy! -Just as he had struggled and triumphed at football and cricket, so his -magnificent strength fought with and overcame the poison in his blood -before it could deposit itself in vital organs. It was marvellous. The -very doctors, accustomed to miracles, could not believe their senses -when they counted his pulse and looked at the little thermometer, and -felt the places where the sore lumps had been. For weeks, I may say, we -seemed to hold our breath in the maddening suspense, tantalised and -intoxicated with a hope we dared not call a certainty; but at last we -knew that life had conquered death, and that I was not called upon to -undergo _this_ agony of motherhood a second time. Of course he was -weaker than a new-born baby--a mere shadow of himself; but he was saved. -When they told me, I fell on my knees, just where I stood, and cried in -my wild rapture and thankfulness, "Oh, God! God! What can I do--what -uttermost service or sacrifice can I offer--for all Thy goodness to me?" - -They looked at me in an odd way. They all looked at me, even my boy with -his hollow eyes. And Tom said, "Come here, Polly, I want to speak to -you;" and took me into our room, and laid his hand on my shoulders. He -stood six feet in his socks, and weighed sixteen stone, but he trembled -like a child. - -"Old girl," he said, "you'll have to let him have her." - -"Oh," I replied, "if he wants the moon, give it to him! I don't care." - -It was a figurative way of expressing my mood of joy--my longing to -compensate him utterly for what he had gone through; and I don't think I -ought to have been taken so literally. But, before the words were well -out of my mouth, Tom made off to Harry's room, and there and then -informed him that "mother had given her consent." - -And he did not tell me he was going to catch me up in this way. When -next I went to my boy's bedside, and he murmured, "Good old mummy!" and -remarked, with that deep thrill in his voice, that it was worth while -getting well, I thought he meant that it was worth while getting well to -see us all so happy. - -"Ay," I said, from my heart, "if you hadn't got well, it's little that -would have been worth while to _me_ any more." - -"Poor old mummy!" he ejaculated. And then, turning serious eyes upon my -face, "You will never regret it. I can answer for that." - -"You need not waste breath to tell me what I know better than I know -anything," I responded, smiling. - -"I mean," he said, still seriously, "about _her._" - -Then I understood why he had said it was worth while to get well. She -was of more consequence to him than all his own people put together. - -"Her?" I queried, smoothing his hair--not letting him guess the pang I -felt. - -"Miss Blount. Father says you have been so good to us--that you have -given us leave--that it's all right now. Look here, mother, if you only -knew her----" - -I stopped him, for he was getting agitated. - -"If your heart is set on it, darling--by and by, I mean, when you are -quite well, and have thoroughly considered the matter--don't imagine _I_ -shall be the one to disappoint you and make you unhappy. I never have -been a cruel mother, have I? And as for knowing Miss Blount, if I don't -know her, having her constantly in the house with me, who should? Don't -worry yourself about Miss Blounts or anything else till you are -stronger, dearest. Put everything out of your head--think of nothing -whatever--except getting well. And when you are quite well--then we'll -see." - -"I can't put her out of my head. I want to see her, mother." - -"So you shall, dear--as soon as you are fit to see people. I will ask -the doctor about it." - -"Juke wouldn't object; he'd be glad. Oh, mother----!" - -The nurse came up, and said she thought he had talked enough. I thought -so too. His thin cheek was flushed, and his lip trembled; he was -inclined to excite himself, and had not strength to spare for that just -yet. I gave him his nourishment, turned his pillow, and whispered to him -that, if he would sleep for a few hours, then he should have his wish. - -"Honour bright?" he whispered back. - -"Don't insult me," I retorted. "When did you ever know me to break a -promise?" - -"To-day, mother?" - -"To-day--if Dr. Juke approves. Of course we must have doctor's express -permission." - -"All right. Give me a squirt of morphia, nurse." - -"No, Master Harry. No more morphia, my dear--except maybe a time or two -at night, when you _can't_ do without it." - -"I can't do without it now," he said. "I've got to sleep before I can -see her, and I can't sleep, of myself, until I do see her." - -"There," I exclaimed, flinging out a hand. "What did I say? I _knew_ -what the effect would be." - -The woman--who, I found, was actually privy to the whole affair--Tom's -doing, no doubt--began to give her opinion, as is the way of those -nurses. "If you'll take my advice," said she, "you'll let him see her -now, and sleep afterwards. It'll tire him less than fretting for her." - -"And if you will be so good as to mind your own business," I replied, -quietly but firmly, "I shall be infinitely obliged to you." - -I had not been out of the room five minutes before Tom came to seek me, -looking quite hoity-toity, as if he thought himself aboard ship again, -with sailors. - -"Now then, Polly," he said, "I'm not going to have any more nonsense -about this. The boy is too weak to be worried. I am going to fetch -Emily." - -"Since when," I asked, "has it been your habit to call her Emily?" - -He stared, and looked confused. "I suppose," he said, "I've caught it -from Harry." - -"Talking with him so much about her, when it was so necessary to keep -him calm? And to that nurse woman, behind my back--as if the private -concerns of our family were any concern of servants! Tom, I didn't think -_you_ would ever be disloyal to me." - -"I don't think I ever have been, Polly. What's more, I don't think you -would ever imagine such a thing in cool blood. Come, you are not going -to spoil this happy day for us all, are you? The boy has been given back -to us by a miracle----" - -That was enough. I flung myself into his arms. - -"Forgive me! Forgive me!" I cried. "I know it is wicked of me. But you -don't _know_ how I feel it, Tom!" - -"Yes, I do, pet; I know exactly." - -"No one but a mother _can_ know. I used to be everything to him once, -and now he is only glad to get well because of her!" - -"Well, it's natural. We----" - -"No, we didn't. We had no mothers. But never mind--I won't be selfish. I -will go and fetch her at once." - -"Would you rather I went?" - -"_Certainly_ not! Do you suppose I want them to go on thinking that you -are their only friend, and I their implacable enemy? _I_ want to make -him happy as much as ever you can do." - -"That's right, old girl. If you're going to do a kind thing, do it the -kindest way you know. They'll be just fit to worship you, both of 'em." - -I did not ask to be worshipped, but I did want my boy to love his mother -a little. I ran to him, brushing the nurse aside. - -"Dearest," I whispered, "I am going to bring Emily. She shall sit with -you as long and as often as you like. She shall be your wife, if you -want her. I will make a daughter of her--for your sake." - -I took the kiss I had so richly earned, and hurried to the schoolroom. -There sat Miss Blount, still faded and tearful, but beaming with the joy -that filled the house, like the sun through rain. She and Lily had been -crying and rejoicing together, congratulating one another. I waved the -child aside, and, taking her governess by the hand, with a "Come, dear," -which I could see explained everything in a moment, led her into Harry's -room. - -After all, she was a lady, and a B.A. He might have done worse. But when -I saw the look he turned to her when she ran like a deer to his -arms--poor sticks of arms!--and how he held her, and crooned over -her--oh, it was like a dagger in my breast! - -Tom took me away, and tried to comfort me. He reminded me that we did -the same ourselves when we were young, and that we still had each -other. - -"You've still got me, Polly. _I_ sha'n't desert you." - -Yes, yes; of course I still had him. But---- - -Well, a _man_ can't understand. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. - - -A boy who is not yet twenty-four, and who has nothing beyond his salary -as a clerk in a shipping office, and whose young lady is a pauper, can -get engaged if he likes; but he cannot get married. I pointed this out -to Harry as soon as he was well enough to be reasoned with. I said to -him, "You know, my dearest, that there's nothing in the world I would -not do to make you happy, but it would not be making you happy to let -you think for a moment of such madness." It appeared, from Tom's -account, that the child had been thinking of it--doubtless at Emily's -instigation. "I might as well encourage you to cut your throat. Far -better, indeed." - -"Better?" he echoed, lifting his eyebrows, and smiling in that queer way -of his. - -"Better!" I insisted firmly. "You little know what it means--that -rushing into irrevocable matrimony without counting the cost--without -knowing what it entails--without experience or means----" - -"Mother," he interrupted, still smiling--a little impudently, though I -don't think he meant to be rude--"you were not any more experienced than -we are, and not any older or richer, were you?" - -I replied with dignity that my case was nowise in point. He wanted to -know why it was not. I said, because I--unlike him--had been practically -homeless at the time. And he cried, "_Were_ you? I never heard of that!" -and stared at me in such a way that I blushed hotly, though old enough -to know better. He was an obstinate fellow, and he corresponded with his -grandfather and young uncles and aunts in England, and had a heap of -their autographed photos in his room. I thought I had better turn him -over to his father. - -Tom was walking in the garden with Emily, who had managed to get around -him in that innocent-seeming way of hers--well, I must not be -uncharitable; I daresay it _was_ innocent, and I could almost have -fancied that they did not care about being interrupted. Only, of course, -that's nonsense. - -"My dear," I said, in a sprightly voice, "your young man seems to find -his mother a bore these days, and it's only natural. I have been trying -to cheer him, and he responds by yawning in my face. Pray do go and -exercise your spells, which are so much more potent, and leave me my old -man, who is still my own." - -Was there any harm in a little light chaff of this kind? One would -surely think not. But Tom, standing and looking after her as she slipped -away, blushing in her ready, _ingénue_ fashion--so unlike a B.A.--said, -quite gravely---- - -"That's a dear little soul, Polly! And I wouldn't speak to her in just -that sort of a way, if I were you. It hurts her." - -"It hurts _me_," I returned, "when _you_ speak in that sort of a way. -It is most unjust. Can't you take a joke? You know perfectly well that I -treat her with the utmost kindness and consideration--that I have -accepted her unreservedly, for my boy's sake." - -"Well, well," said he, "I know you don't mean it. Your bark's worse than -your bite, old girl. Come and look at the new pigs." - -He drew my hand under his arm and patted it. We had had so many little -tiffs lately--things we never dreamt of till Miss Blount came!--that I -was determined not to quarrel now. It should never be said that _I_ was -to blame for making a happy home unhappy. I swallowed my vexation and -went to see the pigs--thirteen little black Berkshires, all as lively as -they could be, on which he gloated whole-heartedly for the moment, as if -they were more than wife or children. In his expansive ardour he offered -me one of them to make a festive dish of for Sunday. - -"Let us have a little feast, Polly, for the young folks. Harry is able -to sit up to table now, and we have done nothing to celebrate the -engagement yet. Sucking-pig and one of the fat turkeys, and ask Juke to -join us. Eh?" - -"My dear," I replied, "I am perfectly willing to celebrate the -engagement in any way you like--yes, we'll have a nice dinner, and ask -Dr. Juke--I am sure we owe him every attention that we can possibly pay -him; but what I want to warn you against is letting them suppose that -there is to be any celebration of the marriage--with our consent." - -Tom stared as if he did not understand. - -"You mean, not immediately?" he questioned. "Of course not." - -"I mean, not for _years_," I solemnly urged. "Tom, you must back me up -in this. The boy is but a boy, with his way to make in the world. Before -we allow him to saddle himself with a wife who will probably be quite -useless--those University women always are--and the responsibilities of -a family, he _must_ be in a position to afford it." - -"Yes," said Tom, in a tepid way. "But you and I, Polly----" - -"Oh, never mind about you and me," I broke in; "that is altogether -different"--for of course it was. "You were a man of twice his age." - -"Which would make him about fourteen," said my husband, trying to be -funny. - -As for me, I saw nothing to laugh at. I cannot imagine a more serious -position as between parent and child. "At his time of life," I said, -"four years are equal to ten at any other stage. Let him have those four -years--let him begin where his father did--and I shall be quite -satisfied." - -"Well, you see, my dear, it hardly rests with us, does it?" - -Tom stirred up the mother sow with his walking-stick, and sniggered in a -most feeble-minded fashion. - -"How? Why not?" I demanded. "Do you mean to say you have not the power -to influence him? Do you think that Harry, if properly advised, would -persist in taking his own way in spite of us? I refuse to believe that -any son of _mine_ could do such a thing." - -Again Tom laughed, looking at me as if he saw some great joke somewhere. -I asked him what it was, and he said, "Oh, never mind--nothing." But I -knew. He was thinking of my own elopement, to which I was driven by my -father's second marriage--an incident that had no bearing whatever upon -the present case. It exasperated me to see him so flippant about a -matter of really grave importance, but I determined not to let him draw -me into a dispute. - -"Four years," I said mildly, "would give them time to know each other -and their own minds. It would be a test, to prove them. If at the end of -four years they were still faithful, I should feel assured that all was -well. But of course they would get tired of each other long before that, -and so he would be spared a terrible fate, and all the trouble would be -at an end." - -We had left the pigsty and were pacing the paths of the kitchen garden, -surveying the depredations of the irrepressible slug. - -"The rain seems to wash the soot away as fast as I put it on," sighed -Tom. "I'll get a bag of lime, and try what that'll do. Well, Polly, for -my part, I should be very sorry to think them likely to get tired of -each other. And I don't believe it, either. I don't think she's that -sort of a girl somehow." - -"How like a man!" I ejaculated. "Just because she's got a pretty face!" - -"No, not because she's got a pretty face--though it is a pretty -face--but because she's good as well as pretty. She's a right down good -girl, my dear, believe me--just the sort of daughter-in-law I'd have -chosen for myself, if I had had the choosing. I told Harry so. You -should have seen how pleased he was!" - -"No doubt. But I don't see how you can know whether she's good or not. -_You_ are not always with her, as we are." - -"Oh, I see her at times. We have little talks occasionally. A man can -soon tell." He put his arm round my waist as we paced along. "I haven't -been married to you for all these years without knowing a good woman -from a bad one, Polly." - -It was intended for a compliment, but somehow I could not smile at it. -In fact, I shed a tear instead. And when he saw it, and stooped to kiss -it away, my feelings overcame me. I threw my arms round his neck and -begged him not to let fascinating daughters-in-law draw away his heart -from his old wife. I daresay it was silly, but I could not help it. Of -course he chuckled as if I had said something very funny. And his only -reply was "_Baby!_"--in italics. So like a man, who never can see a -meaning that is not right on the top of a word. - -However, I promised to be nice to Emily--nicer, rather, for, as I told -him, I had always been nice to her--and he said he would take an early -opportunity to have a serious talk with Harry. - -"But let the poor chap alone till he gets his strength again," he -pleaded--as if I were a perfect tyrant, bent on making the boy -miserable; "let the poor children enjoy their love-making for the little -while that Emily remains here. She has been telling me that she's got a -fine appointment in a school--joint principal--and that she's going to -work in a fortnight--to work and save for their little home, till Harry -is ready for her." - -"_What?_" I exclaimed. "She never told me that." - -"She will, of course, when you give her the chance," said Tom, with an -air of apology. - -"She ought to have told me, she ought to have confided in me, first of -all," I urged, much hurt, as I had every right to be; "I can't -understand why she did not. You seem," I concluded passionately--"you -all seem to be having secrets behind my back, and shutting me out of -everything, as if I were everybody's enemy. It is always so!" - -"It is never so," replied Tom, laying his arm round my shoulder. "You -are never outside, old girl, except when you won't come in." - -That was what they always said when they wanted to defend themselves. - -But here we dropped the painful subject, and discussed the details of -our proposed festival. - -"Only Juke?" I inquired, counting on my fingers. "That makes seven in -all--an awkward number." - -"No matter for a family party," said Tom. "We are not going in for style -this time. The boy in his armchair and pillows will take the room of -two." - -"Still, we may as well make it an even eight," I urged. "Otherwise the -table will look lopsided, and one or other of the girls will have nobody -to talk to." - -"They will be quite satisfied to have their brother to look at. No, no, -Polly, don't let us make a company affair of it, for goodness' sake. -Harry wouldn't like it, or be fit for it either." - -"And isn't Juke company?" - -"By Heavens, no! We owe it to that young fellow that our only son isn't -in his grave--yes, Polly, I am convinced of it--and my house is his, and -all that's in it. Besides, he'll be here professionally--to see that -Harry doesn't overeat himself. Oh, Juke is quite another pair of -shoes." - -I certainly did not see it. He had served us well, no doubt, and we had -paid him well; each side had done its part in a generous and -conscientious spirit. I considered he had no more claim on us now than -the thousands of passengers Tom had carried when he was a sea captain -had on him. I am sure no doctor in the world can match a ship's -commander of the most common type for self-denying devotion to the cause -of duty. But, seeing Tom so inclined to be cross and unreasonable, I -thought it better to say no more. We returned to the sty to select the -piglet that was to be killed, and in my own mind I selected the guest -who should make the table symmetrical. I knew that Harry would only -rejoice to see another friend, and it was due to Phyllis to provide her -as well as the others with a companion. It was also an opportunity which -I did not feel it right to miss for serving her interests in other ways. - -I am not one of those vulgar match-makers who are the laughing-stock of -the young men, and properly so--quite the contrary, indeed: no one can -accuse _me_ of scheming to get my daughters married. Still, they must be -married some day--or should be, in the order of nature--and surely to -goodness a mother is permitted to safeguard, to some extent, a -thoughtless and ignorant girl against the greatest of all the perils -that her inexperience of life can expose her to. Not for the world would -I force her inclination in any way, but there is a difference between -doing that and letting her make a fool of herself with the first casual -puppy in coat and trousers that crosses her path. The duty of parents is -to protect their adolescent children from themselves, as it were, in -this incalculably important matter; that is to say, to keep their path -clear of acquaintanceships from which undesirable complications might -result, while encouraging innocent friendships that may develop with -impunity. Otherwise, what's the use of being parents at all? Your -children might as well be orphans, and better. I neglected this duty, -certainly, when I allowed Harry and Emily Blount to have access to each -other; but then a son is not like a daughter--you can't be always -overlooking him--and that affair was a lesson to me. I determined to be -more vigilant in Phyllis's case. - -Phyllis is not like other girls. I think I may say, without a particle -of vanity, that she is the very prettiest in Australia, at the least. -There may be greater beauties at home--I don't know, it is so long since -I was there; but if there be, I should like to see them. Her features -are not classical, of course, and that dear little piquant suggestion of -a cast in the left eye is a peculiarity, though it is not a defect, any -more than are the freckles she gets in summer: these trifles of detail -merely go to make the _tout-ensemble_ what it is--so charming that she -has but to enter a room to eclipse every other woman in it. This being -so, I was naturally anxious that she should marry, when she did marry, -into her proper sphere, and not be thrown away upon a man unworthy of -her. And I only took the most simple and necessary precaution for her -safety when I limited my invitations to young fellows whom I could -trust--like Spencer Gale. - -Tom says I never had a good word for Spencer Gale until he made his -fortune in Broken Hills. It amuses Tom to make these reckless -statements, and it doesn't hurt me in the least. I _always_ liked the -boy, but any fair-minded person must have acknowledged that his change -of circumstances had improved him--brushed him up, and brightened him in -every way. It was not his wealth that induced me to throw him into my -daughter's company, but his sterling personal qualities. A better son -never walked, excepting my own dear Harry--that alone was enough for me; -a good son never fails to make a good husband, as everybody knows. - -His sister was a friend and neighbour of mine, and I knew that he was -staying with her. At one time all the family had lived here, Mr. Gale -having Tom's fancy for amateur farming and market-gardening in his -leisure hours. Spencer and Harry, both being clerks in Melbourne -offices, used to go into town together of a morning; that was how we -came to know them. But when Spencer had some shares given him which went -to a ridiculous price directly afterwards, and when his money, by all -sorts of lucky chances, bred money at such a rate that he was worth -(they said) a quarter of a million in a twelvemonth, then they all left -this out-of-the-way suburb for a big place in Toorak--all except Mary -Gale, who married a poor clergyman before the boom. Mary's husband, Mr. -Welshman, was the incumbent of our parish, and her good brother was not -at all too grand to pay her visits at intervals, besides helping her to -educate the children. Which proved conclusively that prosperity had not -spoiled him. - -I walked to the parsonage on Friday afternoon, hoping to find him there; -but he was out, and I only saw Mrs. Welshman. I used to like Mary -Welshman in the old days, but she has become quite spoiled since people -began to make a fuss of her family on Spencer's account. It is always -the case--I have noticed it repeatedly; when sudden wealth comes to -those who have not been accustomed to it, it is the girls whose heads -are turned. I asked for Spencer, and mentioned that we wished him to -dine with us, and you would have thought I was seeking an audience with -a king from his lord chamberlain. - -"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure," she said, with her absurd airs of -importance. "He is so much in request everywhere. He is certain to have -a dozen engagements. I don't think you have the remotest chance of -getting him, Mrs. Braye, on such short notice." - -The fact was that she did not want me to get him. She had the fixed -delusion--all the Gales had--that there wasn't a mother or daughter in -the country who was not plotting to catch him for matrimonial purposes; -and she let me see very plainly her suspicion of my motives and her fear -of Phyllis's power. - -"To-night," she exclaimed, in a tone of triumph--"to-night he is dining -at the Melbourne Club, to meet the Governor." Poor thing! It was amusing -to see how proud she was of it--evidently bursting to proclaim the news -to all and sundry. - -"Very well," I said, smiling, "I will just drop a note to him at the -club." - -And then I turned the conversation upon parish matters, as the best way -of taking the conceit out of her. For I don't believe in clergymen's -wives setting themselves up to patronise their lady parishioners, on -whose favour and subscriptions (to put it coarsely) their husbands' -livelihood depends. - -On my way home I was fortunate enough to encounter Spencer Gale himself. -He was looking very well and handsome, riding a magnificent horse, which -curveted and pranced all over the road when he checked its gallop in -obedience to my uplifted hand. I felt a thrill of maternal pride as I -gazed at him--of maternal anxiety also. - -"My boy," I cried, "do pray be careful! Remember what happened to poor -Harry from this sort of rashness, and what a valuable life it is that -you are risking!" - -"Oh, it's all right, Mrs. Braye," he responded, in his nice, cheerful -way. "It is only oats and high spirits. How's Harry? Getting along like -a house afire, Mary tells me. I'm awfully glad." - -Dear fellow! His kindness touched me to the heart. I suppose he was -afraid to dismount from that obstreperous beast, lest he should lose -control of it, and I am sure he could not help the way it tried to -trample on me with its hind legs when I came near enough to talk. - -I told him how beautifully Harry was doing, and how he was to have his -first dinner with us on Sunday, and how delighted he would be to see an -old friend on such an occasion--and so on. Spencer seemed not to -understand me for a moment, owing to the clatter of the horse, for he -said he could not come because he was going to dine with the Governor at -the Melbourne Club. - -"But that is to-night," I called. "And we want you for the day after -to-morrow--Sunday. Just a simple family meal at half-past one--pot-luck, -you know." - -He did not answer for some minutes--thinking over his engagements, -doubtless; then he asked whether _all_ of us were at home. Aha! I knew -what that meant, though of course I pretended I didn't. I said that no -member of the family would be so heartless as to absent herself from -such a festival as Harry's first dinner; that, on the contrary, his -sister was more devoted to him, and far more indispensable both to him -and to the house than a dozen hospital nurses. I described in a few -words what Phyllis had been to us during our time of trouble, and he -smiled with pleasure. And of course he consented to accept the casual -invitation for her sake, pretending reluctance just to save appearances. -It was arranged that he would be at his sister's on Sunday, and walk -back with us after morning service. - -I told Tom in the evening, when he was sitting in the garden with his -pipe, in a good temper. You would have supposed I was announcing some -dreadful domestic calamity. - -"Whatever for?" he grumbled, with a most injured air. "I thought we -were to be a comfortable family party, just ourselves, and no fuss at -all." - -"There will be no fuss," I said, "unless you make it. He is just coming -in a friendly, informal manner, to fill the vacant place. If you will -have Dr. Juke, there must be another man to balance the table." - -"But why that man? You know Harry can't bear him since he's got so -uppish about his money and his swell friends. Why not have somebody of -our own class?--though I think it perfectly unnecessary to have anybody -under the circumstances." - -"Our own class!" I indignantly exclaimed. "I hope you don't insult your -children, not to speak of me, by implying that they are not good enough -for Gales to associate with?" - -"They are," said Tom; "they are--and a lot too good for one Gale to -associate with. But he don't think so, Polly." - -"If he did not, would he do it?" was my unanswerable retort. But it is -useless trying to argue with a prejudiced man who is determined not to -see reason. And I felt it wise to leave him before he could draw me into -a dispute. - -Harry, however, was equally exasperating. He said, "Oh, then I shall -make it Monday, if you don't mind. Better a dinner of herbs on -washing-day in peace and comfort than a stalled ox on Sunday with -Spencer Gale to spoil one's appetite and digestion for it." But Emily -rebuked him on my behalf. She had but to look at him to make him do what -she wished, and I suppose she thought it good policy to propitiate the -future mother-in-law. - -Phyllis, whom I had expected to please--for whose sake I had gone to all -this trouble--was simply insolent. Alas! it is the tendency of girls in -these days. Respect for parents, trust in their judgment and deference -to their wishes, all the modest, dutiful ways that were the rule when I -was young, seem quite to have gone out of fashion. You would have -thought that she was the mother and I the daughter if you had heard how -she spoke to me, and seen the superior air with which she stood over me -to signify her royal displeasure. - -"Oh, well, you have just gone and spoilt the whole thing--that's all." - -I could have cried with mortification. But then, what's the use? It is -only what wives and mothers must expect when they try to do their best -for their families. - -I had another struggle with her on Sunday morning. She refused to -accompany us to church. She said she was not going to offer herself to -Spencer Gale as a companion for a half-hour's walk--that he was quite -conceited enough without that; if other girls chose to run after him and -spoil him, she didn't. As if _I_ would ask her to run after any man! And -as if Emily or I could not have walked home with our guest! But I -learned a little later what all this prudishness amounted to. When we -came back from church--Emily, Lily, Spencer, and I--we found an empty -drawing-room, Harry and Tom in armchairs on the verandah, and Phyllis -away in the kitchen garden gathering strawberries for dessert with Dr. -Juke! And I discovered that that young man had interpreted an invitation -to lunch at half-past one as meaning that he should arrive punctually at -twelve. Tom pretended that he had called professionally at that hour, -and been persuaded to put his buggy up in our stables and remain. - -"And I suppose you persuaded him?" I said, trying--because Spencer was -standing by me--to keep what I felt out of my voice. - -"Well, my dear," replied the fatuous man, "the truth is, he didn't want -much pressing." - -There are times when I feel that I could shake Tom, he is so -wooden-headed and silly--though so dear. - -However, Phyllis, when I called her in, greeted Spencer Gale with proper -cordiality; and the whole family behaved better than I had expected they -would. They seemed to lay themselves out to be pleasant all round, and -to make Harry's first day downstairs a happy one. It was a delightful -early-summer day--he could not have had a better--and our pretty home -was looking its prettiest, for we had had nice rains that year. Phyllis -had decorated the table beautifully with roses, and Jane had surpassed -herself in cooking the dinner. The pig was done to a turn--I never -tasted anything so delicious--and the turkey was a picture. We had our -own green peas and asparagus and young potatoes, and our own cream -whipped in the meringues and coffee jelly--in short, it was as good a -dinner as any millionaire could wish for, and in the end everything -seemed to go as I had intended it should. - -Harry was no trouble at all. I purposely put him at his father's end of -the table, with Emily between him and Juke, to pacify him; and, with his -young lady at his side and Spencer as far off as possible, the dear boy -was as gay and good-tempered as could be, quite the life of the party. -Spencer sat between me and Phyllis, and she really seemed to devote -herself to him. I was surprised to see how little fear she evidently had -of appearing to throw herself at his head, like the other girls; she -chattered and joked to him--the prettiest colour and animation in her -face--and hardly glanced at Juke opposite, who, for his part, confined -his attentions to his neighbours, Miss Blount and me, and was -particularly unobtrusive and quiet. - -As for Spencer Gale, he was most interesting in his descriptions of what -he had seen and done during his recent European travels; it was quite an -education to listen to him. I was particularly pleased that he was so -ready to talk on this subject, because I hate to have the children grow -up narrow-minded and provincial, ignorant of the world outside their -colony. It has been the dream of my life to take them home and give them -advantages, and I have never been able to realise it. I could not help -thinking, as that young man discoursed of Paris and Venice and all the -rest of it, what a delightful honeymoon his bride might have! And so she -did, as it turned out, no great while afterwards. - -Harry yawned and fidgeted, for sitting long in one position tired him; -so Tom and Juke carried him to a cane lounge on the verandah before the -rest of us had had dessert. I was annoyed with Phyllis for running out -to get pillows, which were already there, and for not returning when she -had made her brother comfortable. Emily had the grace to remain at -table, and of course Lily stayed also. She is a most intelligent child, -voracious for information of all sorts; and she plied our guest with so -many questions, and amused him so much by her interest in his -adventures, that she made him forget the strawberries on his plate and -how time was going--forgetting herself that the poor servants were -wanting to clear away so that they might get out for their Sunday walk. - -At last he finished, and I led the way to the verandah, where I expected -to find the others. But only Harry and his father were there, the boy -looking rather fagged and inclined to doze, and Tom--who has no -manners--placidly sucking at his pipe. - -"Why, where is Phyllis?" I inquired. - -"Kitchen," said Harry promptly, opening his eyes. - -"And the doctor?" - -"Gone off to a patient." - -"Then," said I, "come and let me show you my roses, Mr. Gale;" and I -took his arm. I thought it a good opportunity to have a little quiet -talk with him on my own account. Afterwards I remembered that my husband -and son watched us rather anxiously as we sauntered off into the garden, -but I did not notice it at the time. It never crossed my mind that they -could deliberately conspire to deceive me. - -I had had the garden tidied, and, in the first flush of the summer -bloom, it looked really beautiful--although I say it. I would not have -been ashamed to show it to the Queen herself. And our rustic cottage, -that we had continually been adding to and improving ever since it came, -a mere shanty, into our hands, was a study for a painter, with the -yellow banksia in perfection, quite hiding the framework of the -verandah. I halted my companion on the front lawn, at the prettiest -point of view. - -"A humble little place," I remarked; "but I think I may say for it, -without undue vanity, that it looks like the home of gentlefolks." - -He followed my gaze, and fixed his eyes upon the particular window which -I informed him belonged to Phyllis's room. - -"What's she doing?" he inquired bluntly. He could not conceal his -impatience for her return. - -I told him that, in the case of so variously useful a person, it was -impossible to say. I had no doubt she was attending to housekeeping -matters, which she never neglected for her own amusement. Then I threw -out a feeler or two, to test him--to learn, if possible, something of -his tastes and character; it was necessary, for her sake, to do so. And -I was delighted to find that he shared my opinion of the colonial girl -as a type, and agreed with me that the term "unprotected female" should -in these days be altered to "unprotected male," seeing that it was the -women who did all the courting, and the men who were exposed to masked -batteries, as it were, at every turn. - -"A fellow's never safe till he's married," said the poor boy, doubtless -speaking from painful experience. "And not then." - -"That depends," said I. "There are people--I know plenty--who, having -married dolls like those we have been speaking of, find themselves far -indeed from being safe; but choose a good, modest, clever, loving girl, -who has been well brought up--one devoted to her home and unspoiled by a -vulgar society--and it is quite another pair of shoes, as my husband -would say. By the way, ask _him_ what he thinks of marriage for young -men." - -"I don't know that I want to ask anybody anything," he returned, a -little irritably--for Phyllis was still invisible--"except to leave me -alone to do as I like. I don't believe in having wives selected for me, -Mrs. Braye; I'm always telling my mother and sisters that, and they -won't pay the least attention. I think a fellow might be allowed to -please himself, especially a fellow in my position." - -"Certainly," I said, with all the emphasis I could command. "_Most_ -certainly. That is my own view exactly. I have always said that, in -respect of my own children, I would never force or thwart them in any -way. I chose the one I loved, regardless of wealth or poverty, and they -shall do the same. More than that," I added gaily, "I am going to be the -most charming mother-in-law that ever was! I shall quite redeem the -character. I will never attempt to interfere with my children's -households--never be _de trop_--never--oh! Why, there she is!" - -We were turning into a quiet path between tall shrubs--the fatal place -where, as I was told, Harry had been entrapped--and I suddenly saw the -gleam of a white dress in a little bower at the end of it. At the same -moment I saw--so did Spencer Gale--a thing that petrified us both. I was -struck speechless, but his emotion forced him to hysteric laughter. - -"I'm afraid," said he, recovering himself, "that we are _de trop_ this -time, at any rate." - -"Not at all," I retorted, also rallying my self-command. "Not at all. We -don't have anything of that sort in this family." - -But the facts were too palpable; it was useless pretending to ignore -them. Phyllis jumped out of the arbour, like an alarmed bird out of its -nest, and came strolling towards us, affecting a nonchalant air, but -with a face the colour of beetroot with confusion; and that unspeakable -doctor, who had caused her so to forget herself, strutted at her side, -twirling the tip of his moustache and endeavouring to appear as if he -had not been kissing her, but looking all the time the very image of -detected guilt. - -It is not necessary to state that Spencer Gale left immediately, and -never darkened our doors again. When, a little later, I had it out with -Phyllis, she declared, with a toss of the head, that she wouldn't have -taken him if there had been no other marriageable man living--that there -was only one husband for her, whom she intended to have whether we -liked it or not, even if she were forced to wait for him till she was an -old woman. I have often regretted that I did not control myself better, -but she, who had no excuse for violence, behaved like a perfect lunatic. -She went so far as to say she would never forgive me for the insults I -had heaped upon one--meaning Edmund Juke--who had no equal in the -universe, and who had saved her brother's life. Of course she did not -mean it--and I did not mean it--and we forgave each other long ago; but -I never hear the name of Spencer Gale without the memory of that -interview coming back to me, like a bitter taste in the mouth. - -He married about the same time as she did--a significant circumstance! -They say that he lost his boom money when the boom burst, and that he -drinks rather badly, and makes domestic scandals of various kinds. If he -does, it is no more than one might have expected, considering the -provocation. It is all very well for my family to repeat these tales to -his discredit, and then point to Edmund Juke in Collins Street gradually -climbing to the top of his profession; they think this is sufficient to -prove that they were always Solomons of wisdom, and I a fool of the -first magnitude. It does not occur to them that if some things had been -different, all things would have been different. The one man would never -have fallen into low habits if he had had Phyllis for his wife, and the -other would never have risen so high if he had not had her. That is how -I look at it. And as for material prosperity, no one could have foreseen -how things were going to turn out, and luck is like the rain that falls -on the just and on the unjust--it comes to the people who don't deserve -it quite as often as to those who do. - -For my part, I pay no heed to malicious gossip. There are always envious -persons ready and anxious to pull down those who are placed above them; -if they cannot find a legitimate pretext, they invent one. I see for -myself that he still lives in his beautiful Kew house, that his wife -still leads the fashion at every important social function and drives -the finest turn-out in Melbourne; that does not look as if they were so -very poor. And if one _could_ forgive infidelities in a married man, it -would be in the case of one tied to a painted creature who evidently -cares for nothing but display and admiration--to have her photograph -flaunted in the public streets, and herself surrounded by a crowd of -so-called smart people, flattering her vanity for the sake of her -husband's position. He may have a handsome establishment, but he cannot -have a _home._ So who can wonder if he seeks comfort elsewhere, and -flies to the bottle to drown his grief? It would have been very, very -different if my beautiful Phyllis had been at the head of affairs. - -However, if she is satisfied, it is not for me to say a word. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE SILVER WEDDING. - - -Emily went to her school in Melbourne, and I had to get another -governess for Lily. She was a horrid woman. I stood her for one quarter, -and then packed her off; and we had to pay her for six months, because -she threatened to sue us for breach of contract. The next that I -procured was a clever person enough, and not wanting in good manners, -but she ordered the servants about as if the house belonged to her, and -of course they resented it. So did I. Emily's gentle unobtrusiveness had -spoiled us for ways of that sort. Moreover, Miss Scott was terribly -severe upon Lily; the child was always in tears over lessons that were -too hard for her. I did not believe in overstraining a growing girl, and -ventured to remonstrate now and then on her behalf; but Miss Scott was -quite above taking advice from her elders and betters--as good as asked -me to mind my own business, or, at any rate, to allow her to know hers. -So I thought it best to make a change. - -And then I was deceived by false representations into engaging a widow -lady, who had seen better days. She was recommended to me as an -experienced teacher, having held situations in high families before her -marriage; and I naturally supposed that one who had been a mother -herself would be a safer guide for a young girl than one who had not. -But words cannot describe what a wretch that woman was. There is -something about widows--I don't know what it is--something that seems -almost improper--especially those that are by way of being young and -pretty, like Mrs. Underwood, though she was all forty, if she was a day, -in spite of her baby airs and graces and her butter-yellow hair. She had -the audacity to try and flirt with Tom, under cover of her pathetic -stories of her lost husband and children, and those better days that -were a pure invention; and he was too idiotically stupid--that is, too -innocent and simple-minded--to see what was so glaringly transparent to -everybody else. He used to think her an ill-used woman and pity her, and -think me hard and unfeeling because I didn't. Oh, never will I have a -widow about my house again! She entirely destroyed our domestic peace. -Things came to such a pass, indeed, that Tom even threatened--seriously, -and not in a joke--to get out his captain's certificate and return to -sea, because his home, that had always been so happy, had become -unbearable. - -She went at last, and then I felt that I had had enough of governesses. -Determined that I would never undergo such misery again, and at the same -time strongly objecting to boarding-schools for girls, there was nothing -for it but to superintend Lily's general studies myself, and take her -into town for special lessons. I did not like the job, and found her -very tiresome and disheartening; she seemed to mope, all alone, and -would not interest herself in anything. A girl in these days is never -satisfied with her mother for a companion, and after a time, when the -Jukes were settled in their Melbourne house, I was glad to let her go on -long visits to her sister. There she found plenty to occupy and amuse -her, while I sat solitary at home, working for them both. - -For I had no children left when she was away. The difficulty of the -governess was not the only trouble that resulted from Emily's desertion -of me. Harry also forsook the nest. He said it was inconvenient to live -so far from his office, though he had never thought of that while she -was with us, and that it would be better for business reasons to have a -lodging in town. I did not attempt to thwart him. And so, as soon as he -was strong enough to return to regular work--so valued was he by the -shipping firm which employed him that they had kept his situation open -during his illness--he took himself and a new bicycle to a stuffy -Melbourne suburb, where he would be in the way of meeting his beloved -frequently at the houses of her friends. - -I wanted to settle in Melbourne too, to be near them all. But our little -place was our own--a valuable property, yet unsaleable in these bad -times--and Tom said we could not afford it. Besides, I knew he would be -miserable cooped up in streets, and lost without his pigs and vegetable -garden. - -Thus we felt ourselves stranded on the shore while our young ones put to -sea--deserted in our old age--which, after all, is the common fate. Only -we were not in our old age, either of us. I have not a grey hair in my -head, even now, and have more than once been taken for Phyllis's elder -sister. On the day that she was married, when I wore pale heliotrope -relieved with white, I overheard old Captain Saunders--and a man of -eighty ought to be a judge--say to Mr. Welshman, "She's a pretty girl, -but her mother can beat her." And I should like to see the man of forty -who is the equal of what my husband was at fifty-five--or is at his -"present-day" age, which comes to little more. Tom is stout certainly, -but only in a dignified and commanding fashion; he can out-do Harry in -feats of strength, and his fine, bronzed face, with those keen blue eyes -in it, has a power of manliness that kings might envy. For the matter of -that, kings are not nearly so much of kings as he was accustomed to -being on board his ships. I know the lady passengers made themselves -ridiculous by the way they scrambled for his notice and a seat beside -him at the saloon table. - -To people like Mrs. Underwood, though she was really my contemporary, I -may seem very _passée_--no doubt I do--and a perfect granny to the -children, who regard youth and beauty as solely the prerogatives of -bread-and-butter misses in their teens; but--as Captain Saunders's -remark indicated--I am not too old to charm where I want to charm. No, -indeed; nor ever shall be--to one person, at all events. When Tom and I -woke up on our silver wedding morning and kissed each other, did we not -know what love meant as much and more than we had ever done, without -needing Juke and Phyllis, and Harry and his Emily to teach us? I should -think so, indeed! It seems to me that it _requires_ the fulness of many -years, fatherhood and motherhood in all stages and phases, innumerable -steps of painful experience climbed together, to bring us to the perfect -comprehension of love--the best love--that love in the lore of which -those children, who think themselves so knowing, are mere beginners, -with the alphabet to learn. - -And this, by the way--it has just this moment occurred to me--is the -kernel of the woman question, which seems so vastly complicated. Why, it -is as simple as it can possibly be. The whole thing is in a nutshell. -Those advocates and defenders of this and that, arguing so passionately -and inconclusively at such interminable length--how silly they are! You -have one set of people raving for female suffrage and equal rights and -liberties with tyrant man; you have another set of people storming at -them for thus ignoring the intentions of Nature, the interests of the -house and family. The intentions of Nature, indeed! The house and -family! When millions of poor women are old maids who haven't chosen to -be so!--who, of course, _could_ not choose to be so, unless -physiologically defective in some way or another. Poor, poor things! -They don't want equal rights with man, but equal rights with the lower -animals. As they don't know what they miss, they may be forgiven for the -way they speak of it in their books and speeches; but if they had it--if -all had it who by nature are entitled to it--there would be no more -woman question. I am quite convinced of that. Nature's intentions would -then really be fulfilled, and the other troubles of the case, all -secondary and contingent, would vanish. Of course they would. Man is not -a tyrant, bless him! The child is the only tyrant--the legitimate power -that keeps woman in her place. - -But, oh, how much that child does cost us! We give all freely, and would -give a thousand times more if we had it to give, for it is the most -precious of human privileges--the thing we really live for, though it is -inconvenient to admit it; but we pay with heart's blood, from the -beginning to the end. We pay so much and so constantly that it often -seems to me that the poor childless ones, undeveloped and inexperienced, -who cannot know the great joys of life, are also exempt from all sorrow -that is worthy of the name. - -Baby-rearing, absorbingly interesting though it be, is really a terrible -business; and the fewer the babies the worse it is. You hardly know what -it means to have a night's rest for dread of the ever-recurring -epidemics that so fatally ravage the nurseries of this country. Day and -night you have the shadow of the clinical thermometer, your sword of -Damocles, hanging over you, and are afraid to breathe lest you should -bring it down. Then, when this hair-whitening strain begins to slacken a -little and you think you are going to have an easy time, the children -that are now able to take care of themselves utterly refuse to do so. -Your girl goes wet-footed with a light heart, and you never see a -telegraph messenger coming to the house without expecting to hear that -your boy at school has broken his arm at football or his neck -bird's-nesting. They follow their mischievous devices, and you can't -help it; you can only cluck and fuss like a futile hen running round the -pond in which her brood of ducklings is splashing. That's worse than -baby-rearing, because you can at least do what you like with a baby. - -And then, when you pride yourself on having successfully got through the -long struggle, and you tell yourself that now they are going to be a -help and a comfort to you at last, off they go to the first stranger who -beckons to them, and think no more about you than of an old nurse who -has served her purpose--probably turning round to point out the errors -you have committed, and to show you how much better you would have done -if you had taken their advice. And that is worst of all. - -No trouble that I had had with mine, while they were with me, equalled -the trouble of being without them, especially on the silver wedding -morning, when I had, as it were, the field of my married life before me; -when I felt that a golden harvest was my due, and beheld a ravaged -garden with all its flowers plucked. It was my own fault that no letters -of congratulation came by the first post; I had purposely refrained from -reminding the children of the approaching anniversary, just to see if -they would remember it, and they had been too full of their own concerns -to give it a thought. Afterwards they scolded me for not telling them, -and were very repentant. I had no present either--that is, not on the -day. Tom had given me a silver _entrée_ dish, and I had given him a -silver-mounted claret-jug; but we had made our purchases a week too -soon, and had been unable to keep the matter secret from each other. It -was a wet morning, and I, being the first downstairs, was greeted with -the smell of burnt porridge in the kitchen. I thought it too bad of Jane -to let such a thing happen on such an occasion, and a hardship that -rain should be running like tears down the breakfast-room window panes -when I so particularly wanted to be cheered. It was April, the month of -broken weather, and leaves were falling thickly on the beds and paths -outside. I surveyed the dripping prospect, and noted how impossible it -was to keep the weeds down, with the summer-warmed earth so moist; and I -turned back into the room to see a late-lit fire fading on the hearth, -and the children's empty chairs against the wall. - -Well, I sat down behind the two lonely tea-cups and bowed my head on the -table, on the point of tears--feeling that I too was a denuded autumn -tree, an outworn woman who had had her day. And then, before I could get -out my handkerchief, Tom came in. - -He kicked two logs together, and the dying fire sprang to life; he -opened a window, and the freshest and sweetest morning air poured in, -sprinkled with a gentle shower and hinting at coming sunshine. - -"What a lovely day we've got, eh, Polly? What a beautiful rain! This'll -bring the grass on, and make the land splendid for ploughing, hey? -What's the matter, old girl? Missing the children? Oh, well, they're -happy; we've nothing to fret about on their account--nor on our own -either--and that's more than most people can say on their silver wedding -morning. Porridge spoilt? Oh, that's no matter--we have something better -than porridge. Here, Jane! Jane! Bring in the you know what, if you've -got 'em ready." - -Jane came in, smiling, with the new _entrée_ dish in her hands. Tom -watched it with gleeful eyes, and assisted to place it on the table. It -was his little surprise for me--mushrooms, to which I am extravagantly -partial--the first of the season. He had gone to Melbourne the day -before to buy them, and it was her absorption in the task of cooking -them delicately which had caused Jane to neglect the porridge--Tom's -first course at every breakfast. - -"There" said he, as he lifted the shining lid. He was as pleased as a -boy with his plot and its _dénouement._ - -"Oh, you _precious!_" I responded; and the gratitude he expected brought -tears to my eyes. "No one _ever_ had such a husband as mine!" - -He beamed complacently, and sat down beside me, inconveniently close. -With his arm round my waist, he helped me to pour out the coffee, and -spilled it on the cloth; he fed me with the best of the mushrooms and -morsels of beef steak, and wiped gravy from my lips with his own napkin. -He seemed to feel that I needed some extra comfort to make up for the -children's absence, though he said repeatedly that it was only fitting -we should have our wedding-day, whether gold, silver, or pewter, to -ourselves. - -"As for you," he said, "I declare you don't look a day older than when I -married you, Polly. Oh, well, a little fuller in the figure, perhaps; -but that's an improvement. Old Saunders is quite right--you can beat -the young girls still." - -I told him he could beat the young men in the making of pretty speeches, -and I pretended not to believe his flatteries; but I knew that he meant -every word he said, being the sincerest of men. And my spirits rose by -leaps and bounds, until I felt even younger than I looked, and like a -real bride once more, just as if those strenuous intermediate years had -dropped out of the calendar. The barometer was rising too. Before we had -finished our mushrooms the rain had all passed off, and the sun was -shining on a clean and fragrant earth. Everything outside glittered and -shimmered. It was a thoroughly bridal morning, after all. - -"And now, what shall we do?" my husband inquired, having lit his pipe -and taken a rapid glance over the newspaper. "We must do something to -celebrate the day. What shall it be?" - -"It doesn't much matter what, so long as we do it together," was my -reply. "But I think I should like to go out somewhere, shouldn't you? -It is going to be the perfection of weather." - -"Oh, we'll go out, of course. We'll have a day's sight-seeing, and our -lunch in town. Let's see"--we studied the "Amusements" column, as we had -so often seen the children do--"there's the Cyclorama; we have never -seen the Cyclorama yet, and I'm told it's splendid." - -"And it is years since we were at the Picture Gallery," I remarked. -"There must be dozens of pictures there that we have never seen." - -"We might go to the Zoölogical Gardens. If there was one thing more than -another that I was fond of as a boy it was a wild beast show. They feed -them at four o'clock." - -"Yes, and the seals at the Aquarium too. I remember seeing the seals fed -at Exhibition time. It was most interesting." - -"And they've got Deeming at the Waxworks, Harry says----" - -"Oh, Tom--waxworks! However, I don't see why we shouldn't go to -waxworks if we feel inclined. We are free agents. There is nobody to -criticise us now." - -I began to feel that it was really almost a relief to be without the -children, just for once in a way. Children are so dreadfully severe and -proper in their views of what fathers and mothers ought to do. - -"Well, go and get your things on," said my husband, "while I have a look -round outside." - -He dashed off to see that pigs and fowls were fed, and the boy started -on his day's work; and I ran into the kitchen to tell Jane not to cook -anything, and upstairs to change my dress and put on my best bonnet. In -our haste to make the most of our holiday, we frisked about like young -dogs let off the chain. It did not matter how undignified it looked, -since there was nobody to laugh at us. - -Before ten o'clock we were off, and before eleven we were in Melbourne, -sliding up Collins Street on a tram dummy, on our way to the Cyclorama. -The Picture Gallery had been set down as a first item of the -programme--it opened at ten, and one had the place to one's self during -the forenoon--but afterwards we put it at the bottom of the list, and -finally struck it out altogether. Our feeling was that we could do -pictures at any time--pictures were things young people would thoroughly -approve of as an amusement for parents--but that we could not always do -exactly as we liked. So we went to the Cyclorama first, and were so -intensely interested that we stayed there nearly an hour. We had read of -the battle of Waterloo in our school books, but never realised it in the -least; now we were like eye-witnesses of the fight, and the whole thing -was clear to us. A soldier amongst the spectators pointed out a number -of mistakes in the arrangements of troops and guns, but we did not -understand them, and did not want to; indeed, we would not listen to -him. We moved round and round in our dark watch-tower to the quiet -places, and gazed over the far-stretching fields with more delight than -our first peep-show at an English fair had given us. The illusion of -distance was so complete that it corrected all crudities of detail, and -we simply lost ourselves in the romance of the past and our own -imaginations. - -"Never saw anything so wonderful in my life," said Tom, as at last we -tore ourselves away. "I seem to smell that chateau burning, and to hear -those poor chaps groaning with their wounds. I'm glad we went, aren't -you, Polly?" - -I truthfully replied that I was very glad indeed, and we emerged into -the street, and he hailed a passing tram. Again we took our places on -the dummy, that we might see and feel as much of the bright day as -possible. Melbourne was still gay and busy, in spite of gloomy -commercial forecasts, and the weather was all that a perfect autumn -morning could make it. The sun shone now with an evident intention to -continue doing so till bed-time, and we basked in it on the dummy seat -like two cats. - -"What shall we do next?" asked Tom, consulting his watch. "It is not -near lunch-time yet. We must get an appetite for the sort of meal I mean -to have to-day." - -Before we could make up our minds what to do next, the tram had carried -us into Burke Street, and lo! there was the temple of the waxworks -staring us in the face. Tom signalled the conductor, and we jumped off, -hand in hand, and without a word made our way to the door of the show -which we had heard even young children speak of as beneath -contempt--only fit for bloodthirsty schoolboys of the lower orders and -louts from the country who knew no better. - -Well, we were from the country; and, whatever the artistic shortcomings -of this exhibition, it had the charm of novelty at any rate. Neither of -us had been to waxworks since we were taken as infants to Madame -Tussaud's. This was a far cry from Madame Tussaud's, but I must confess -that it amused us very well for half an hour. The effigies were full of -humour, and the instruments of torture in the chamber of horrors very -real and creepy. Also there were some relics of old colonial days that -were decidedly interesting. In short, we did not feel that we had wasted -time and two shillings when we had gone through the place, though we -pretended to have done so, laughing at each other, saying, "How silly we -are!" - -"Well, let's be silly," said Tom, at last. "There's no law against that, -that I know of." - -"None whatever," I gaily responded. "There's nobody to----" - -"Hush!" he exclaimed, interrupting what I was going to say with a sharp -snatch at my arm. We were just leaving the waxworks, and he pulled me -back within the door. - -"What's the matter?" I cried, bewildered by his sudden action and tone -of alarm. - -"Come back--come back!" he whispered excitedly. "For Heaven's sake, -don't let her see us!" - -"Who? who?" - -He pointed to the street, and I had a momentary glimpse of our daughter -Phyllis going by in her husband's buggy. Edmund, in his tall town hat, -which glittered in the sun, was driving her himself; she sat beside him -under her parasol, calm, matronly, dignified, a model of all propriety. -How would she have looked if she had seen her mother coming out of the -waxworks? It was quite a shock to think of it. - -"She has been shopping," said Tom casually, "and Ted's been out after -patients, and has picked her up, sending the groom home. It isn't every -Collins Street doctor who'd let his wife be seen with him in the -professional vehicle. Ted's a good fellow and a first-rate husband. We -have a lot to be thankful for, Polly." - -"We have," I assented, drawing a long breath of relief. For the moment I -was most thankful that my dear girl, whom I had so yearned for, was out -of sight. The coast was clear, and we sallied forth once more in pursuit -of our own devices. Being still not quite as hungry as Tom desired, we -strolled around the block and looked in at the shop windows--the -florists, the milliners, the photographers. - -"Do you remember," said Tom, as we gazed upon a galaxy of Melbourne -beauties smiling down upon the street, "how we had our likenesses taken -in our wedding clothes?" - -"And, oh, such clothes!" I interjected. "A flounced skirt over a -crinoline, a spoon bonnet----" - -"It was the image of you, my dear, and I wouldn't part with that picture -for the world. I say, let's go and be done now. I'd like a memento of -this day, to look at when the golden wedding comes. Just as you are, in -that nice tailor tweed--in your prime, Polly." - -I told him it was nonsense, but he would have it. The people said they -would be ready for us at 2.30, and when we had had an immense lunch, and -were both looking red and puffy after it, we were photographed together, -like any pair of cheap trippers--I sitting in an attitude, with my head -screwed round, he standing over me, with a hand on my shoulder. The -result may now be seen in a handsome frame on his smoking-room -mantelpiece; He thinks it beautiful. - -After the operation we had a cup of tea in the nearest restaurant, and -by that time it was too late to think of the Zoölogical Gardens, which -closed at five, and required a whole day to reveal all their treasures. -But we thought we might be in time to see the seals fed, and so took -tram again for the Exhibition building. As we entered the Aquarium -through the green gloom of the Fernery, we heard the creatures barking, -and saw the keeper walking towards the tanks with his basket of fish. We -were in good time, and there was no great crowd to-day, so that we could -stand close to the iron bars and see all the tricks of the man and the -beasts, which were unspeakably funny. I don't know when I have laughed -so much as I laughed that afternoon. And Tom was just as much amused as -I was. - -But when the last fish had been thrown and caught, and we sat down on a -bench to rest for a minute, he fell suddenly silent, and I thought he -appeared a little tired. - -"I know what it is," I said, looking at him. "You are just dying for a -pipe." - -"No," he answered; "at least, not particularly. But I'll tell you what I -do seem to long for, Polly, and that's a sight of blue water. Looking at -those creatures diving and splashing somehow reminds me of it. I haven't -seen the sea for months." - -"Oh, you poor boy!" I exclaimed, jumping up. "Why didn't you say so at -first--at the beginning of the day? I never once thought of it. Of -course we ought to have been beside the sea on our silver -wedding-day--the sea that married us in the beginning--or else on it. -Let us get down to Swanston Street at once, and take a St. Kilda tram. -There is time to reach the pier before the sun goes down, and we can -stay there till dark, and dine at the Esplanade. It will be a nice long -ride, and you can have your pipe on the dummy as we go." - -"All right," he said, with renewed alacrity. "Mind you, Polly, I -couldn't have enjoyed the day more than I have done, so far as it has -gone; but a sniff of brine to top up with will just make it perfect." - -So we had our sniff of brine. It took three-quarters of an hour to get -it, but the drive was delightful in the fresh evening air; the rain had -laid the dust of that dustiest of Melbourne roads, and C-spring -barouches are not easier to travel in than the cable tramcars on it. Tom -had the comfort of his pipe, allowable on the dummy; and the scent of -his good tobacco, which the breeze carried from me, was a scent I loved -for its associations' sake. When we got to St. Kilda the sun was low; no -effect of atmosphere and sea water could have been more lovely. It was -only bay water, to be sure, but it was salt, and it sufficed. We called -in at the hotel to order our dinner, and walked down and out to the end -of the pier, and sat there silently until the ruddy full moon rose. At -night, when all was white and shining, we returned there and sat for an -hour more, hand in hand. - -"What it must be," said Tom, soliloquising, "outside!" - -"Ah-h!" I sighed deeply. The same thought had been in both our minds all -through the silence which he had broken with his remark. If he had not -made it, I should have done so. In imagination we were "outside" -together, as in our youth; the scent of sea in the brisk air had acted -on us like the familiar touch of a mesmerist on a subject long -surrendered to his power; the nostalgia of the seafarer, the -sea-lover--which is a thing no other person can understand--had taken -hold of us; it was as if some long silent mother-voice called to us -across the bay, "Come home, come home!" - -Near us, sheltered in the angle of the pier, a bunch of sail boats -tugged gently at their ropes; the flopping, squelching sound made by the -run of the tide between and under them was sweet in our ears, like an -old song. A little way off some yachts of the local club lay each at its -own moorings, a hull and a bare pole, ink-black on the shining water. -Tom was no yachtsman, of course; he even had a contempt for the modern -egg-shell craft, all sail and spar, in which the young men out of the -shops and offices raced for cups on summer Saturdays; they were as -children's toys in his estimation. But a boat is a boat, and, feeling as -I did, and thinking of the remark he had made in the Aquarium, and how I -had unaccountably forgotten what we ought to have done on our silver -wedding-day, I said-- - -"Why shouldn't we have a silver honeymoon, and spend it at sea?" - -Though he did not answer at once, and though his face was turned from me -towards an incoming steamer, a distant streak of shadow sprinkled with -lights, that he was trying to identify, I knew that he jumped straight -at the suggestion with all his heart. - -"Hm-m," he mused; "ha-hm-m. That's not a bad idea of yours, Polly. I -daresay it might be done, if you think you'd like it. We have no -children to tie us at home--Harry would keep an eye on the pigs and -things--it would do us all the good in the world--by Jove, yes!" He sat -erect and alert. "Why, the very thought of it makes me feel twenty years -younger. I don't see why we shouldn't have a silver honeymoon while we -are about it. But what sort of a trip do you fancy? Portland and -Warrnambool? Tasmania? New Zealand? I'm afraid Europe is a bit too large -an order." - -"Nothing of that sort at all," I urged; "but something that we can do -all by ourselves, without being interfered with." I pointed to the boats -near us. "A yachting cruise to some of the places I have never seen, if -you could find a strong, homely sort of yacht, with bulwarks and a cabin -in it. Perhaps a hired man or two--yes, that would even give us greater -freedom--if there was a place for them to sleep in away from us." - -I enlarged upon my idea, while he listened and nodded, proposing -amendments here and there; then he jumped up in his resolute way, -lifting me with him. - -"Let us get home and to bed," said he, "and I'll be up first thing in -the morning to see about it. We must save this weather and the moon--the -honeymoon, Polly." - -We bustled back to town. And whom should we meet in the tram but an old -brother salt, who knew exactly what we wanted and where it was to be -had--a stout, yawl-rigged craft with something beside lead keel under -water, not too smart to look at, but able to travel, and warranted safe -"outside" as no ordinary pleasure yacht could be. One day sufficed to -stock this vessel with our requirements, and on the morning of the next -we set sail, with one quiet man for crew, and a minute dinghy behind us, -bound for no port in particular, and to no programme--determined to be -free for once, if we never were again. The children thought us quite -silly, naturally. I believe Harry felt it something of a hardship to -have to give up Emily's society occasionally for the sake of the pigs, -and I am sure, though I did not hear them, that Phyllis and Lily made -remarks on their poor dear mother's erratic fancies, and the way poor -father gave in to them. Phyllis took the opportunity of my absence to -"settle up the house," as she called it--meaning my house, and that -matters there had fallen into a sad state since she had ceased to -superintend them. - -But we were emancipated now. We were out of school. I was able to -wear--what they had considered inappropriate for years--a hat to keep -off the hot sea sunshine, which burns old faces as badly as young ones; -and I could fish, and paddle barefoot, and sing, and talk nonsense to -Tom to my heart's content, with no sense of appearing ridiculous or -undignified to anybody. The crew was an old Bendigo hand, about the age -of my father, devoted to us both; and Tom was like a boy again, with the -tiller in his hand. What ages it was since he had steered a sailing -boat, of any sort or size! Yet even I could tell the difference in a -moment, as soon as he took the helm. Not only did he make the yawl do -exactly what he wanted, but he seemed to know exactly what _she_ wanted -as well. It was the same sort of sympathy as that between a perfect -rider and a horse that thoroughly understands and trusts him. Some -people--good seamen in everything else--can never steer like that, -although they may have been a lifetime at it. It is an instinct, like -good riding, inherited and not acquired. Tom's people had been sailors -since the Battle of the Nile. - -How he _did_ love it, to be sure! And _what_ a holiday that was! We had -our little discomforts of various kinds, and I was seasick for a night -and seedy all the day afterwards; but these trifles were of no account -in the sum of our vast enjoyment, and cannot even be remembered now. -Looking back on that cruise--that last cruise--perhaps the very last in -life--it is one idyllic dream, simply. I find it hard to believe that it -could have happened in such a prosaic world. - -I daresay that much of the fairyland feeling was due to weather. There -is no weather on earth like Australian weather for making holiday -in--that is, when it is good. What fell to us on this memorable occasion -was as good as good could be--fine and fresh by day, calm and beautiful -by night, with various effects of moonlight, each sweeter than the rest. -The beginnings of the days were the best of them, perhaps. We went to -bed betimes--in that not too spacious chamber of ours between the big -and the little masts--and so were ready to see the sunrise, to bathe -ourselves in the clean, sharp, early morning air, to set about clearing -up the cabin, airing the mattresses on deck, frying the eggs and bacon -or newly caught fish, and cooking the coffee over the spirit stove, -before the land people were astir, every vein in our bodies thrilling to -the salt breeze, tingling with health, and our appetites keen as razors. -Later, we would visit the shore for provisions, for newspapers, for a -hotel meal, to send inquiring telegrams to our family and await replies, -to amuse ourselves with a ramble in the bush or through the bay -watering-places whose summer season had ebbed away from them. Later -still, I lay prone on deck, snoozing over a novel, while Tom and the -crew sailed the boat, and smoked, and talked shop in contented growls, a -couple of sentences at a time. Then tea, and washing up, and the fishing -lines got out; and the sweet twilight that, when it became darkness, was -too cold to sit in; and the lamp lit in the little -cabin--yawns--bed--the stirless sleep of nerves at peace and digestion -in perfect order. - -It was almost the same "outside" as in--not a cat's-paw squall molested -us. There was sea enough for good sea-sailing, but not enough to wet me -or my little house below--not till we got to Warrnambool, where, being -weather-bound for a day or two, we had the joy of seeing great breakers -again. They thundered on the rocky shore like cannons going off; they -flung foam over the breakwater; they would not let the Flinders come in. -We sat on a brown boulder a whole morning and a whole afternoon to look -at and listen to them, as one would listen to some archangel of a -Paderewski. - -Ah me, how happy we were! The second honeymoon, like the second -wedding-day, was miles better than the first. We married for love, if -two people ever did, not having fifty pounds between us, but my old -bridegroom was a truer lover than my young one. He said the same of his -old bride. We were like travellers that have climbed to a noble -mountain-top and sit down to rest and survey the arduous road by which -they came--all rosy in the bloom of sunset--and the poor things still -struggling up, not seeing what they head for. I never had such a rest in -my life before, and we had never, in all our twenty-five years of dear -companionship, been at such perfect peace together. There was only one -little cloud, and that passed in a moment. Tom said--it was a mere -thoughtless jest, for he did not mean to be unkind--that our divine -tranquillity was due to there being no person near for me to be jealous -of. I ought to have laughed at such an obviously absurd remark, but I am -dreadfully sensitive to anything like injustice, and was foolish enough -to feel hurt that he could say such a thing, even in fun. _I_ jealous! -I may have my faults--nobody is perfect in this world--but at least I -cannot be justly accused of condescending to petty ones of that sort. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -GRANDMAMMA. - - -"Good-morning, Grandmamma!" - -I was in my kitchen after breakfast, seeing about the dinner--calmly -slicing French beans, because it was Monday morning and Jane was helping -the washwoman--when I was suddenly accosted in this extraordinary way. -With a jump that might have caused me to cut my fingers, I turned my -head, and there in the doorway stood my son-in-law, Edmund Juke, panting -from his bicycle, and grinning idiotically, as if he had said something -very funny. By what he had said, and by the expression of his face, and -by seeing him miles away from his consulting-room at that hour of the -day, I knew, of course, what had happened. My heart was in my mouth. - -"What--what--you don't say--not really?" I gasped, scattering the beans, -cut and uncut, together about the floor as I sprang to meet him. "Why, -it isn't nearly time yet!" - -"Oh yes, it is," said he. "Everything is all right. The finest boy you -ever saw, and she doing as well as possible. I would not let any one but -myself bring you the good news, Mater dear"--and here he kissed me, more -affectionately than usual--"ill as I could spare the time. I knew you'd -be easier in your mind, too----" - -"But I am _not_ easy in my mind," I broke in, excessively concerned -about my child, and beginning to see that I had not been fairly treated -in the matter. "I am quite sure it is premature, whatever you may say. -Phyllis distinctly gave me to understand that it was a month off, at -least. Otherwise should I be here?" - -"It is an easy thing to make mistakes about, as you know. I can assure -you there is nothing wrong in any way. You must allow a medical -man--two medical men, for Errington attended her--to be the judge of -that," said he, with the airs a young doctor gives himself when he has -begun to make a name. - -I was indeed thankful to hear him say so, but still I could not quite -understand it. I wondered if it were possible--but no, it could not be! -The cruel suspicion having entered my mind, however, I felt obliged to -speak of it. - -"I am not to suppose, am I, that Phyllis _wished_ to deceive her own -mother--and on such a point?" - -Edmund at once replied, stormily, that I was certainly not to suppose -any such preposterous thing; but he protested over much, I thought, and -grew red in the face as he did so. I thought it not improbable that _he_ -had suggested my being put off the scent--he, who seemed to have known -just when the baby was to be expected; afterwards I was sure of it. My -own dear girl would have been incapable of such an idea. - -I asked Edmund the hour at which the event had taken place. He said at a -little before three that morning. It was now between nine and ten--as I -pointed out. He said they had all been glad of a little sleep after -their excitement, and that he had come as soon as he could get away. He -had also ridden at racing pace, averaging I don't know how many miles an -hour. No, the buggy would not have been quicker, even with a pair, and -he had wanted his wheel for refreshment and exercise. Of course he could -not take me back on it, but there was no hurry about that. He had left -Phyllis sleeping as soundly as a top, and the longer she was undisturbed -the better. - -"Certainly," I said, with rigid face and shaking heart. "And it is right -that I should be there to see that she is undisturbed. I ought to have -been there _hours_ ago, Edmund, and I can't _think_ why you did not send -for me--her own mother--the very _first_ person who should have been -informed." - -He began to make all sorts of lame excuses. - -"You see, Mater dear, the telegraph offices are not open on Sundays." - -"Was it Sunday? So long ago as yesterday? And where were the buggy and -the bicycle--not to speak of the trains?" - -"The buggy and the bicycle were there, but I had to send the groom -hunting for Errington, and of course I could not leave her myself. There -was not a soul to take a message to you, Mater dear. Besides, there was -no earthly use in giving you an upset for nothing. We soon saw that -everything was going on beautifully--otherwise, of _course_, you would -have been fetched at once--and so we thought you might as well be spared -all the worry--you would have worried frightfully, you know--and that we -would give you a pleasant surprise when it was all over. And now you -don't seem half grateful to us for being so thoughtful about you." - -He laughed at this poor joke. I could not laugh. My heart was too full. - -"Poor, poor, _poor_ girl!" I passionately exclaimed. "To face that trial -for the first time--terrified to death, naturally----" - -"Oh dear, no," he interposed, in his flippant way. "I am proud to inform -you that Phyllis conducted herself like a perfect lady. She was as calm -as possible." - -"How can you tell how calm she was?" I thundered at him. "You know -nothing about it, though you are a doctor. _I_ know--I know what she had -to go through! And no one near her to help her with a word of comfort, -except a hired person--one of your precious hospital nurses that are -mere iron-nerved machines--women who might as well be men for all the -feelings they've got!" - -"But she had--she had," cried Edmund, hastily. "She had my mother near -her--one of the kindest old souls that ever breathed." - -"_What?_" - -I stared at him, petrified with astonishment and indignation. _His_ -mother assisting at the confinement of _my_ daughter! And _I_ shut out! -I could not believe it for the moment--that they would deliberately put -such an insult upon me. - -Edmund said it was not done deliberately, but was a pure accident. "It -just happened," he said, "that she chanced to be in the house yesterday. -She came in after morning church, as she often does, and seeing that -something was up----" - -"What--as early as yesterday morning!" I burst out, thoroughly and -justifiably angry now, and not caring to hide it. "You mean to say -Phyllis was taken ill in the _morning_, Edmund, and you did not let me -know? Oh, this is too much!" - -Of course he hastened to excuse himself--with what I feel sure, though I -am sorry to say it, was a barefaced lie. He declared she was not taken -ill in the morning--not until quite late in the day--but that she was a -little restless and nervous, and his mother had stayed to cheer her. - -"Mother is such a bright, calm-minded, capable old body," he said--as if -I were a dull, hysterical fool--"and she has had such swarms upon -swarms of children, and such oceans of sick-nursing, and Phyllis is so -fond of her, and as you were not get-at-able, Mater dear----" - -Oh, it was sickening! I hadn't patience to listen to him, with his -"Mater dears" and his hypocritical pretences. I saw clearly that it had -been what Harry would call a put-up thing; he had preferred old Mrs. -Juke--a woman of no education, with a figure like a sack of flour tied -round the middle--to me. I suppose his friends had been twitting him -about the tyrannical mother-in-law, in the vulgar conventional way; or -he had been afraid that I would dispute his authority and orders in the -sick-room; or perhaps, to do him justice--he had thought nothing of an -affair which was in his daily experience, although it was his own wife -concerned. In any case, I was sure that Phyllis had not been to blame. -However fond she might be of Mrs. Juke--and probably she feigned -affection to some extent, for her husband's sake --it was her own -mother she would long for at such a time. And her mother she should -have, or I'd know the reason why. - -"It is not my fault that I was un-get-at-able yesterday," I said to -Edmund, quietly but firmly. "At any rate I am get-at-able now. I see you -are in a fidget to be after your patients--go, my dear, and tell her I -will be with her in an hour or two. Oh, I daresay there _is_ no -hurry--from your point of view; I am of a different opinion. I am a -woman--_and_ a mother; I understand these things. You don't--and never -could--not if you were fifty times a doctor." - -"All right," he returned cheerfully, or with assumed cheerfulness. "I am -sure she will be delighted to see you. Only we shall have to keep her -very quiet for the next few days--not let her talk and argue and excite -herself, you know----" - -I laughed--I could not help it--and waved him off. I told him to get -himself some beer, or whatever he fancied, and not to suppose that he -could teach me mother's duties at my time of life. And in a few minutes -he went flying back to town, and I sought my dear husband, where he was -busy digging in the vegetable garden, and flung myself weeping into his -grubby arms. - -Tom, too, was quite overcome. Not nearly so surprised as I expected him -to be, but tremulous in his agitation, and almost speechless at first. -For a tough old sailor as he is, he has the softest heart I know. - -"My little girl!" he murmured huskily, and cleared his throat again and -again. "And it was only the other day that she was a baby herself. Makes -us feel very ancient, don't it?" - -"_No_," I returned emphatically. "I don't feel ancient in the _very_ -least. And you, my dear, are in your prime. It is simply an absurdity -that we should be grandparents." - -"Well, it does seem rather ridiculous in your case," he rejoined--my -sweet old fellow!--"with your brown hair and bright eyes and figure -straight as a dart. But I----" - -"But you," I insisted, "are just as handsome as ever you were--worth a -dozen priggish little whipper-snappers like Edmund Juke." - -"Oh! What has Edmund Juke been doing?" - -"He let her be ill yesterday--_all_ yesterday--and never sent for me to -be with her!" I sobbed, feeling sure of sympathy here, if nowhere else. -"Did you ever know of a mother being treated so before?" - -But Tom--even Tom--was unsympathetic and disappointing. He did not -exclaim and protest on my behalf--did not seem to see how unnatural it -was, and what a slight had been put upon me--but just patted my shoulder -and stroked my hair, as if I were a mere fretful child. - -"If you ask me," he said, when I pressed him to speak his mind, "I must -say that I think they showed their sense, Polly. And it's a great relief -to me, my dear, on your account. You are so highly strung, pet, that you -can't stand things like other people. You'd have been worse than -Phyllis. Whereas a placid old Gamp like Mother Juke----" - -"_Tom!_" I broke in sharply. "_Who_ told you that Mother Juke was -there?" - -"Nobody," said he, with a disconcerted look. "I only thought it likely -that she might be. Was she not?" - -"She was. But I want to know why you concluded that she was, when I had -not mentioned the fact?" - -"I didn't conclude it. I only knew that she was keeping an eye on the -child, being so experienced, and living so handy." - -"How did you know?" - -"Ted told me--in a casual way--a good bit ago--I forget exactly -when----" - -"Tom----" - -But Tom pulled out his watch hastily, plainly anxious to avoid the -corner he felt himself being pushed into. - -"Look here, Polly, if you want to catch that train, and have to pack -your bag before you start, there's not a minute to lose. Now that she -knows you know, she'll be looking out for you--wanting to show her baby -to her mother, bless her little heart! And a fine boy too. I'm glad the -first is a boy--though I'm sure I don't know why I should be, for the -girls are far and away the best, to my thinking--girls that grow up to -be good and pretty women, treasures to the lucky men who get them--like -you." - -Silly fellow! But he means it all. There are no empty pretences about -Tom. To him there is one perfect being in the world, and that's his -wife. It comforted me to feel that I was appreciated in one quarter, -whatever I might be in others, and the mention of the baby made me -forget everything but my longing to have him in my arms. - -"I will go at once," I said, "and you must come too, dearest. You must -support me against the Juke faction. You must see that your child's -mother has her rights." - -"Oh, rights be blowed!" he replied, rather rudely. "There's nobody will -dream of disputing them. You don't know what a humble-minded, unselfish, -dear old soul that mother of Ted's is; she wouldn't deny the rights of -a sucking-pig--let alone an important person like you." - -"Your mind is always running on pigs," I laughed. "And I am sure that -old creature is just like a great sow fattened up for the Agricultural -Show. She grunts as she walks--if you can call it walking--and you -almost want bullocks to get her out of an armchair when she has once -sunk into it." - -"Well, that isn't her fault," Tom commented, grave as a judge. - -"Of course it isn't," I acquiesced. "She is getting into years now." - -"So are we all." - -"Yes. But she is fifteen years older than I am, if she's a day." - -"Fifteen years'll fly over _us_ before we know it, Polly. And then _you_ -won't like to be crowed over, I'll bet." - -"Who's crowing? I merely state a fact. She is." - -"Then all the more reason why you should be grateful to her." - -"Grateful to her for usurping my rights----" - -"Nonsense!" - -He had one of his short moods on him, when it is better not to argue -with him. Besides, there was no time for argument. He led the way to the -house, pulling down his shirt-sleeves. He said he would have a wash and -put on his coat and take me to Phyllis's house, and see the baby if -allowed to do so; but he would not promise to stay more than a few -minutes. He did not want, he said, to put them about, when already they -had so much to attend to. Talk of humble-mindedness! His -humble-mindedness makes me want to shake him sometimes. Off the sea he -seemed to forget that he was a commander--a character that Nature -intended him to maintain, wherever he was. One had but to look at him to -see that. - -I had to make so many preparations for his comfort and for the proper -safeguarding of Lily in my absence, which I supposed likely to run into -a week or two, that it was noon before I could be ready to set forth. -So I yielded to Tom's suggestion that we should have our usual one -o'clock dinner before starting, and drive ourselves to town in the -afternoon. He wanted to take in the buggy for stores. He could see me -"comfortably settled," he said, and do his necessary business at the -same time. - -Alas! How little we anticipated the circumstances of the return journey! -No one could have been happier than I, as I sat beside him behind our -fast-trotting Parson--we called him Parson because of his peculiar -rusty-black colour and a white mark on his chest--talking of the -grandchild we were going to see, and all the family affairs involved in -his arrival. It never crossed our minds for a moment that he was -bringing, not peace, but a sword. - -In our excess of considerateness we drove to livery stables, and there -put up our trap; then we walked quietly to Phyllis's house, and Tom -slunk away somewhere, like a rat into a hole, as soon as we were -admitted. His anxiety to be "out of the road" was really undignified. -Of course I made straight for my daughter's room. - -The large dining-room was full of waiting patients; I counted three -women and a child as I passed up the hall. Whatever Edmund's faults, he -is one of the cleverest and most sought after doctors in Melbourne. I -have heard Mary Welshman and others boasting about Fitzherbert, and -Groom, and Sewell, and the rest, but not one of them is to be named in -the same day with my son-in-law. Phyllis was obliged to use a little -room on the first floor for meals, on account of the lower part of the -house being so overrun; and the poor parlourmaid spent her entire time -in answering the door. - -Creeping upstairs, with my noiseless, sick-room step, I met old Mother -Juke, as Tom calls her, lumping down, with the gait of a rheumatic -elephant. She seemed to shake the very street. How my poor child could -stand such a woman about her, at such a time, I could not imagine; it -would have driven me into a fever. Of course she is kind and -well-meaning enough--she can't help her age and her physical -infirmities--I know that. And it is quite true that she has been a great -nurse in her day. But her day is past. - -"Good-morning, Mrs. Juke," I said pleasantly, as we met and paused on a -little landing at the turn of the stairs, "you are here early." - -Scarcely had I opened my mouth when the mountain fell on me, as it were; -the old thing put her huge arms about my neck and kissed me. I have -always objected to being slobbered over by comparative strangers, and I -did not return the kiss; nevertheless I treated her with the courtesy -that I felt due to my son-in-law's mother. - -"And so," I said, smiling, "you have all been conspiring together to -steal a march on me! You have been jumping my claim, as the miners -say--defrauding a poor woman of her natural rights." - -"Nothing of the sort, my dear," she replied, in her fat voice--and if -there is one thing that I dislike more than another is to be -"my-deared" in this promiscuous fashion. "You were best out of it, with -your feeling heart. It would only have upset you, my dear, and that -would have upset her; and then Ted would have been in a way, and Captain -Braye would have blamed us. I am sure _he_ is grateful, if nobody else -is." - -"He is nothing of the sort," I cried, flaming. "My husband is perfectly -astounded at the way I have been shut out. He never heard of such a -thing as a mother being set aside at such a time." - -She was at a loss for an answer to this, so fell back upon praises of -the baby and of Phyllis's satisfactory condition. There was nothing, she -said, that could give me the faintest cause for uneasiness, nor had been -from the first--nor would be, provided she were kept quiet and free from -all excitement. And we ought to be humbly thankful that this was so--to -feel nothing but joy that she had done so excellently, and that the -child was so strong and beautiful. - -"That is all very well," I remarked. "But that is not the point. What I -want to know is--and I intend to have an answer--whose doing it was that -I was not sent for yesterday morning?--that I was kept in utter -ignorance of the most important event that has ever occurred in my -family--when, for all you people did to prevent it, my daughter might -have died without my seeing her again!" - -We were now in the little first-floor sitting-room, just off the stairs. -It was between three and four, and the luncheon things were not cleared -away. Indeed the house seemed completely disorganised, having no one to -look after it. Old Mrs. Juke, who did not seem to notice this, stood -just within the door, puffing like a porpoise, and trying to look -dignified, which was quite impossible. - -"I am very sorry you take it in this way," she said, in a hoity-toity -tone. "We may have made a mistake, but, if we did, we made it with the -best intentions. All we thought of was to save you useless pain. We -knew your nervous, anxious temperament, and how keenly you feel anything -affecting your children; and so we decided----" - -"It was not a matter for you to decide," I broke in, with natural -asperity. "I am neither a baby nor an idiot. I have at least as much -sense as any one in this house--I should be sorry for myself, indeed, if -I had not--and I prefer to attend to my own business, if it's all the -same to you. Whether I should be here, or whether I should not, was for -_me_ to say--for me and for my daughter. She, I am very certain, had no -part in shutting me out; and she ought to have been considered, if I was -not." - -"It was she," said Mrs. Juke, "who wished it most. Her one desire was to -spare you." - -"I don't believe it." - -"I am sorry if you don't believe it." The old thing shook like -blancmange in hot weather. "I can only say that it is perfectly true." - -"I will ask her if it is true--that she wished to have strangers with -her in place of her own mother." - -I started to cross the landing to Phyllis's room, and my teeth were set, -and my heart was thumping with an emotion that I could scarcely -control--but I need not say I did control it. Mrs. Juke hung on to me to -stop me, pleading that Phyllis and the baby were fast asleep together, -and must not be disturbed; and I asked her how she, who had been a -mother fifteen times, could insult a mother by supposing that she would -be less careful of a sick child than anybody else. If I had gone in -alone I am sure she would not have heard me--Tom says that I walk about -the house as if shod with feathers--but Mrs. Juke would come too, and -there was no hushing that solid tread. I saw my darling start up from -the pillow, frightened out of her sleep by the noise, and the flush come -into her cheeks. And Mrs. Juke cried "There!" reproachfully, as if it -had been my fault. - -At the same moment another stranger came out of Edmund's dressing-room, -and turned upon me like a perfect fury. - -"I must ask you, madam, to be so good as to be quiet," she said. "The -doctor's orders are----" - -But I did not wait to be told by her what the doctor's orders were; I -simply took her by the shoulders, ran her back into the dressing-room, -and locked the door upon her. If Edmund's mother liked to be rude to me, -she could, but I was not going to take impudence from a hospital nurse. -I cannot understand the passion young doctors have for those conceited, -overbearing women. This creature was not even married. What, I wonder, -would _my_ mother have thought of a single woman attending a lady in her -confinement? I call it scandalous. - -When I had got rid of her, I requested Mrs. Juke to retire also, which -she did. I apologised to her if I had said anything that seemed -discourteous in the heat of the moment, for there was a watery look -about her eyes as if she were feeling rather hurt; and I said to her in -a gentle way, that, if she would only for one instant imagine herself in -my place, she could not help admitting that I was more than justified. I -suggested that it would be a kindness to us if she would see what the -servants were about, judging from appearances, they were entirely -neglecting their duties. I mentioned the state of the lunch-table, and -Phyllis broke in to explain that Ted had begun work so late that he had -not yet found time to come up for anything to eat. - -"Never you mind," I said to her, soothing her. "_You_ are not to trouble -your little head about these matters. I am here, darling, and you can -rest from all housekeeping worries now." - -And so at last I had my treasure to myself. She was very fluttery, and -cried a little--which I did not wonder at--but soon composed herself, -and proudly displayed the little one cuddled to her dear breast under -the bedclothes. He was a lovely baby (and at this time of writing is the -most beautiful boy you ever saw--the image of me, Tom says); and I -felt, when I took him into my arms, as if my own happy young mother-days -had come over again. - -"Now, Phyllis dear," I said to her, as I laid him back into his nest, "I -don't want to bother or disturb you in the slightest degree, but I _do_ -want to know whether it was your wish, as Mrs. Juke declares it was----" - -However, before I could get the question out, or she could answer, the -door opened; and there stood the nurse, looking at me with her nasty, -hard eyes, as if I were some venomous reptile; and Errington was behind -her. She had actually been to fetch him--he lived almost next door--in -her rage with me for having had the firmness to keep her in her place. -He was one of these modern young doctors who swear by the new ways, and -of course he believed her tales and took her part against me. - -"Mrs. Braye," he began, trying to be very professional and superior, "I -must beg of you to leave my patient's room. The nurse has my orders not -to allow her to talk or to be agitated in any way. I do not wish her to -see people at present." - -"I will take care," I answered, with dignity, "that she does not see -people." - -"Excuse me--she is seeing people now." - -"I suppose you are not aware," I said, very quietly, "that I am your -patient's mother? It seems to be taken for granted in this house that -such a person does not exist." - -"I am aware of it," he was good enough to admit; "I recognise the fact, -Mrs. Braye, and sympathise with your feelings, believe me. But, if you -will allow me to say so, you are so excitable--you have such a quick, -nervous temperament----" - -"And who has dared to discuss my temperament with you?" I demanded -furiously--for this was the last straw--an utter stranger, a boy young -enough to have been my son! "Where is Dr. Juke? I will ask _him_ to -explain. Mrs. Juke"--she was lurking in the passage outside--"will you -be kind enough to send Edmund to me? After all, he is the medical -authority here." - -Edmund came hurrying up, and I never saw a man look so much like a -whipped dog. He had not the courage of a mouse in the presence of his -colleague. He spread out his hands with a helpless air--said we were all -under Errington's orders, and that he no longer had a say in -anything--in short, left me undefended to be a laughing-stock to those -people. - -I flew downstairs to find Tom, whom I had left in a little office behind -the consulting-room, waiting until I summoned him to see the baby. I -knew what he would think of the way I was being treated, and how he -would vindicate and uphold me. But here I was again frustrated. The -aroma of his strong tobacco was in the air; the ashes from his pipe were -still hot in the tray; but he had vanished. Rushing back into the hall, -I collided with that pert little parlourmaid who answers the door. She -had come to tell me, she said, with an ill-disguised smirk, that Captain -Braye had gone to do some business in the town and would return in the -course of an hour or two. She must have seen that something was the -matter, but she was just as callous as the rest of them. - -I said "Very well," as cheerfully as I could, and sought the only refuge -I knew of--the drawing-room on the first floor. It was dark with drawn -blinds and the tree ferns on the balcony, but not so dark that I could -not see the thick dust on everything; and there were flowers in the -vases that literally stank with decay and the bad water their stalks -were rotting in. Feeling sure that I was safe in this deserted and -neglected place, I closed the door behind me, sank upon a sofa, took out -my pocket-handkerchief, and had a good cry. Any mother, hurt to the -heart as I had been, would have done the same. - -And while I was in the middle of it I heard a gentle creak, and the -rustle of a soft gown, and a step like velvet on the carpet--Edmund -would have a Brussels carpet, instead of the polished boards and rugs -that I advised. Looking up, alarmed and ashamed, whom should I see but -dear little Emily Blount, with her kind, sweet face, full of the love -and sympathy that I was so much in need of. I had always known that she -was one in a thousand, but never had I felt so thankful that my Harry -had made so wise a choice. She had stolen away from her school to hear -how Phyllis was, and, instead of pushing in where she was not wanted, -had crept like a mouse to the empty drawing-room, to wait there until -she could intercept somebody going up or down the stairs. What an -example of good feeling, of good manners, of good breeding and good -taste! I held out my arms to her, and she ran to them, and kissed and -hugged me, crying out to know what was the matter, in the utmost -concern. - -Well, I told her what was the matter--I told her everything; I had to -relieve my overcharged feelings in some way, and, Tom being absent, I -could not have found a truer sympathiser. Words cannot express the -comfort it was to me to know that she would be my real daughter some -day. - -"Emmie," I said to her, as she sat beside me with her arm round my -waist, "promise me that, when _you_ have a baby, you will send for me to -be with you--and send for me _in time._" - -She blushed perfectly scarlet--which was silly of her, being a B.A., and -of course not like the ordinary ignorant bread-and-butter miss--but she -laid her little face into my neck in the most tender, confiding way. - -"It is what I should wish," she whispered, "if only my own dear mother -would not think----" - -"Your own mother," I broke in, "has only had you, and I have had four -children. I know much more of those matters than she does, and _you_ -know from experience, having been in the house all through Harry's -illness, what a good nurse I am." I had seen Mrs. Blount once or -twice--a sharp little fidgety woman, who would get dreadfully on the -nerves of an invalid who was at all sensitive. "Besides," I added, "own -mothers as a rule are a mistake on these occasions. They are -over-anxious, and the personal interest is too strong." - -"Oh, I think so--I do think so," she said, agreeing with me at once. "It -is too hard upon them both, unless they are cold-hearted creatures. And -I would much, much rather have you, dearest Mrs. Braye, if I am ever so -happy--so fortunate----" - -"As you will be," I broke in, warmly embracing her. "I am going to talk -to Harry about that little house which he has fallen in love with. I -don't believe in young people wasting the best years of their lives in -waiting for each other." - -We had a nice talk, and I told her how well Phyllis was doing--wonderful -as it was, when one considered the mismanagement that prevailed--and -described the beauty of the baby. Emily said she was satisfied, having -such a report on my authority, and stole away as she had come, with no -noise or fuss. I wanted her to stay with me until Tom returned, but she -pleaded her duties, and I am not the one to dissuade in such a case. -When she was gone I sat alone for a few minutes, calmed and braced, -thinking what I should do; then I heard a step, and Edmund came in. - -"Oh, _here_ you are!" he exclaimed, with forced hilarity. "I've been -hunting for you everywhere. Look here, Mater dear, I'm so awfully -sorry----" - -But I was prepared for these counterfeit apologies, which had no sorrow -in them. I cut him short by inquiring mildly whether Captain Braye was -in the house. - -"Not yet--he's not back yet--he will be soon. But look here, Mrs. Braye, -honestly, I wouldn't have had it happen for a thousand pounds." - -"Then may I ask you, Edmund, kindly to have my portmanteau sent to the -stables? I will join my husband there." - -"No, no," he urged, in a great fluster. "You are not going to leave us. -We sha'n't let you. Your portmanteau is gone to the spare room. You will -stay with Phyllis and the baby, and my mother will go. She is putting -her things on now." - -"Then go and stop her _instantly_," I cried. "What! Do you suppose I -want her to be slighted and humiliated because I am? Do you want to set -it about everywhere that I turned your mother out of her own son's -house? I have no place here, Edmund--I had forgotten it for the moment, -but I shall not forget it again; she has. Go at once and tell her that, -if she doesn't stay, Phyllis will have no one." - -"And why can't you both stay?" he demanded foolishly. - -"My dear boy," I laughed, "if you think that possible, after what I have -just experienced, you must have a very queer opinion of me. I am not -proud, nor prone to take offence, but one must draw the line somewhere. -Two perfect strangers have turned me out of my daughter's room and -insulted me before my daughter's face, apparently with your approval. I -wonder what the captain will think when he hears of it? It will rather -astonish him, I fancy. Even if I consented to expose myself to further -treatment of the kind, I am quite sure he would not. But I am not the -person to force myself where I am not wanted, Edmund; you ought to know -that by this time." - -And yet I pined to stay. And when he pleaded that they had all done for -the best, according to their lights, and tried to persuade me that the -entire household, including Phyllis, was overwhelmed with grief because -I was offended, I wondered whether I could, with any justice to myself -and Tom, pocket the indignities that I had received. I said to my -son-in-law-- - -"Let us understand each other. When you ask me to remain, do you -contemplate keeping on that nurse who was so insolent to me?" - -"Oh," said he, "I don't think she meant to be insolent. She's a -first-class nurse. Very strict ideas about duty, but that's a fault on -the right side, isn't it? Errington got her for us, and as he's -attending Phyllis----" - -"He would still go on attending Phyllis, I suppose?" - -"Oh, I suppose so. Why not?" - -"No reason why not, of course, if you wish it. Only you can hardly blame -me if I prefer not to meet either of them again. Good-bye, Edmund. I -have a little shopping to do. And I hope," I burst out, breaking from -him and running down the stairs, "I hope that when your children grow -up, they won't cast you off in your old age as mine have done." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -VINDICATED. - - -Naturally, I did not see much of the Juke household after the affair of -the baby's birth. There is nothing so sad, and so disgraceful to the -parties concerned, as discord in families; but this was no vulgar -quarrel, although several officious busybodies regarded it as such. I -merely took the very broad hint that my son-in-law and his mother had -given me, to the effect that Phyllis by her marriage had passed into -their possession and no more belonged to me. Moreover, one must have -_some_ self-respect, as I represented to Tom, who either could not or -would not recognise the facts of the case, remaining stupidly impervious -to arguments that would have convinced a child; and a proper sense of -dignity is an element of good breeding which I have inherited with my -blood--fortunately or otherwise, as the case may be. - -But I was just as anxious, and even more so, to be assured that all was -well. _My_ feelings towards my own kith and kin can know no change. -Therefore I sent Tom to Melbourne every morning to make inquiries. -Perhaps he would have gone in any case, for his own satisfaction, but he -was not the messenger I should have chosen had there been a choice. -Unfortunately, he was the only one available. Without, I am sure, -meaning to be disloyal to me, he would stay there half the day, smoke -with Edmund, lunch with Mrs. Juke, pay Phyllis visits in her room, and -generally allow himself to be cajoled into forgetting the actual state -of things--making me cheap as well as himself, and putting me into a -most false and ignominious position. And then he would come back laden -with "best loves" and "when was I coming to see them again?" and "Baby -was wondering what he had done to be deserted by his dear grandmamma," -and rubbish of that sort, which any one but he must have seen was -simply insulting under the circumstances, and which sometimes drove me -wild. His weak amiability, in season and out of season, and his habit of -taking everybody to be as goodnatured as himself, made him incapable of -perceiving that a gross outrage had been committed, for which formal -apologies were due. I argued the matter with him for hours at a time, -and had my labour for my pains; he would never positively admit that I -was right, simply because he could not understand the point of view. The -silence that gives consent was the most I got, and I was not satisfied -with that--from him. And so we fell out rather frequently--we, who had -never had a disagreement in our lives--and I was very unhappy. - -Nevertheless, I was not going to set foot in Edmund Juke's house until -proper reparation had been made. It was not for a woman of my years and -standing to bow down to a boy and girl and an ignorant old person, who, -I believe, began life in a baker's shop, or some such place. An apology -I intended to have before I would receive them back to favour. - -And they did not apologise. It seems to me a petty sort of thing not to -frankly own it when one is in the wrong, but very few people are -large-minded enough to apprehend the difference between false pride and -true. As a rule, they think it derogatory to dignity--a "come-down" so -to speak--to confess to being human and therefore liable to error; -whereas you cannot have a better proof of moral superiority. Edmund and -Phyllis were no exceptions to this rule. They would do anything short of -the one thing they should have done. When the time came for the baby to -be baptized, they wrote a joint letter, couched in extravagantly -affectionate terms, asking me to be his godmother. It was the dearest -wish of their hearts, they would have me believe; and yet--not a word of -regret for what they had made me suffer! - -I saw through it at once. They were merely throwing a sop to Cerberus, -as it were, expecting that the little compliment would pacify -me--treating me as a cross child to be appeased with lollipops. Tom was -angry when I expressed my views; he said--what I am sure he was very -sorry for afterwards--that I was "the most perverse woman that ever -walked;" and it really seemed at one time as if this miserable affair -was destined to wreck the happiness of a marriage which for more than a -quarter of a century had been the most perfect in the world. I had never -imagined it possible that _my_ husband could be morose and rude--and to -me, of all people! - -I answered the letter the same day. I said I was much obliged to Edmund -and Phyllis for their kind invitation, but I considered I was too old to -stand sponsor to the baby, who should have some one likely to be of use -to him through life. I did not suggest Mrs. Juke as a substitute; I did -not even mention her, nor refer to my grievances; I wrote temperately -and courteously, though not gushingly, and I fully expected that my note -would bring forth another, urging me to reconsider the matter, and -assuring me that I was not too old for anything--as of course I am not. -Instead of this, they affected to be huffy, made no rejoinder, and took -no further notice of me. So my feelings can be imagined when Lily calmly -informed me that _she_ was to be the baby's godmother. I was keeping the -child closely at home, engaged with her studies; I had put a stop to the -Melbourne visits, because I do not believe in town life for a girl so -young, and it was just as easy and very little more expensive to have -her masters come out to give her lessons; therefore I could not imagine -how she had been, as Harry would have said, "got at." - -"Oh, are you?" I ejaculated, dissembling my surprise, "and, pray, who -says so?" - -"Father," she replied. "Ted spoke to father, and he said I might. And -they want father to be godfather--Mr. Stephen Juke and either father or -Harry--and Harry says his conscience is against something or other in -the baptismal service--and so is Emily's--and that's why they chose me. -And oh, mother, I must! I MUST!" - -She said it as if it were "I will," and with that mulish look which I -knew of old, and which meant that she would fight to the death to get -her own way, no matter whose feelings might be trampled on. I did not -stay to argue with her, but flew down the garden to find Tom. He was -pitchforking clean straw into the pigsties, and when he saw me, stood -and leaned on the fork handle with an exaggerated air of resignation. -"Well, and what's the matter now?" was expressed in his face and -attitude, though he did not speak. - -"Tom," I demanded, as I paused before him--I will not deny that I was -boiling over "Tom, are you going to be godfather to the Jukes' baby?" - -"I don't know, Polly," he said evasively. "Nothing is settled yet." - -"If you do," I declared with passion, "I will never speak to you again." - -Of _course_ I did not mean that, but he took it as if I had said -something horrible. Never did I expect to see my husband look at me as -he looked then, or to hear him speak to me in a tone so cold and cruel, -or call me names as if he were a common costermonger instead of the -gentleman I had always found him. - -"Polly," he said, "because you are behaving like a maniac, am I to do so -too?--to turn against my daughter for nothing at all--my dear, good -child, who never grieved me in her life--and at this time of all times, -when her little heart is full----" - -I could bear no more. I burst into tears. I believe the boy was digging -potatoes not twenty yards away, but I did not care; in the middle of -Collins Street I must have done the same. To be misunderstood by the -whole world was a trifle indeed, but to be misunderstood by _him_ an -insupportable calamity. - -It was but for a moment, after all. No sooner did he see my tears than -he flung away his fork, hurried me behind a shed, and took me into his -arms to comfort me, as he had always done. All piggy as he was, I threw -mine around his neck, forgiving him everything for the sake of his -constant love. - -"There, there," he crooned, "don't cry, pet. What a baby it is, after -all! You know as well as I do that you are just cutting off your nose to -spite your face--now don't you, sweetheart?" - -"Oh, Tom," I wailed, "if you would _only_ understand!" - -"Well, I do," he assured me, ruffling my hair with his grubby paw. "I -know all about it, little woman. And I'm ready to do anything in the -world to please you. I always am." - -"Then you won't stand godfather to that child--without me?" - -"Suppose we both stand together? We've done everything together so far." - -"I can't. I have refused." - -"Then write and say you have changed your mind." - -"It's too late. And they don't want me to change it, Tom--they don't -indeed; they only asked me out of politeness; they did not press me the -least little bit. I am sure they were delighted when I declined. They -had calculated upon it." - -"Pooh! That's your imagination." - -"It is _not_. What, are you going to accuse me of not speaking the -truth?" - -"No, no, my dear; but sometimes--well, never mind; we are all liable to -make mistakes. And when I think of the letter they wrote, asking -you--and I'm sure they meant it----" - -"They could not have meant it, because when I only half declined--I left -it open to them to ask again--they would not take the hint. Oh, they -don't want me for anything now, and I would die sooner than ever force -myself on them again!" - -Tom inquired, in a grave tone, what I had said in my letter--what reason -I had given for declining, or half-declining, in the first instance; and -I told him. - -"And, dear," I urged, "if I am too old--and they accepted that as a -valid excuse--what are you?" - -"Hm-m," he mused. "I never thought of that. Harry's the man--not me--if -there's anything in being godfather beyond the name. Only Harry jibs at -saying 'I will' and 'all this I steadfastly believe'--as if it were for -a young donkey like him to criticise the Prayer Book that's been good -enough for generations of us. That boy's head is full of maggots. So's -Emily's." - -"I beg," said I, "that you will not say a word against Emily, nor Harry -either. They are perfectly right. I think their loyalty beautiful." - -"To whom?" asked Tom. - -"To me," I said. "Was it likely they would stand sponsors to the baby -over my head? No, they love me too well to countenance anything that -would humiliate me. And Tom, my dear, I think it downright tyranny to -keep those two dear children hanging on as they are doing, wasting their -best years. You forget that I was barely twenty when you married me." - -"Barely twenty-two," he corrected. - -"And Emily is twenty-three. You might remember what it was to _us_ to -get each other and our little home--how _we_ should have felt if cruel -fathers had kept us out of it!" - -"Well, I never thought to hear myself called a cruel father," laughed -Tom, taking everything literally, as usual. "And as for Hal and -Emily--why, you yourself----" - -"I did nothing of the sort," I broke in--for I knew what he was going to -say--"and I have always advocated early marriages, because our own was -so successful. Now, Tom, when we have settled the affair of the -christening--but we must do that first----" - -"And how's it to be done?" he sighed, heavily. "Good God! I've been -true-blue Church and State all my life, but I'm hanged if I don't wish -there were no such things as christenings!" - -I am sure I heartily agreed with him. - -And after all he had his wish, as far as our baby was concerned. That -christening was postponed indefinitely. I heard that Edmund had said, -with a man's obtuseness to the logic of the case, that it was better the -child should remain a technical sinner than that all its relations -should become real ones. I was greatly surprised at the decision, but if -they chose to make the poor infant suffer for their faults, it was no -concern of mine. Mary Welshman and her husband wanted to make out that -it was--this, however, was merely a bit of revenge for some strictures I -had passed upon that disreputable brother of hers--and they took upon -themselves to such an extent that I resigned my sitting in the church -and stopped all my subscriptions. Welshman said that if baby died -unbaptized and unregenerate, his eternal damnation would lie at my -door--or something to that effect. I was not going to sit under a -clergyman who presumed to behave to me in that way. - -And so, thanks to all this meddling and muddling, the miserable affair -ended in a complete estrangement between my daughter and me. She never -came out to see us, as she had been used to do, and of course I did not -go to see her without being asked. I would not let Lily go either, to -have her taught to be disrespectful to her mother; and the child--too -young to know what was for her good--tried me sorely with her rebellious -spirit. She was worse than rebellious--she was disobedient and -deceitful; I found that she met her sister secretly when my back was -turned, and that she knew when little Eddie cut his first tooth, and -when he was short-coated, though I did not. Tom was mopey and grumpy, -almost sulky sometimes--so changed that I hardly knew him for my -sunny-tempered mate; he seemed all at once to be turning into an old -man. And I, though I tried to fight against it, had a perpetual ache in -my heart, and was tempted sometimes to wish that I was dead, so that I -might be loved once more. - -What I should have done without Emily I don't know. Tom gave me -permission to make certain arrangements which would enable her and Harry -to marry and settle, and the excitement and occupation which this -entailed just kept me, I think, from going out of my mind with -melancholy. As it was near the midwinter vacation, I insisted on the -dear girl giving up her school at the end of term; and we fixed a day in -August for the wedding, so as to have the cream of springtime for the -honeymoon. Emily's father--a perfect gentleman---was a cripple, earning -but a small income by law-writing at home, and their house in Richmond -was cramped and close; for health's sake I made her spend part of the -holidays with me, and really it was like the happy old times over again -to see her sweet, bright face about the house. Her companionship was -most beneficial to Lily, too; the child recovered all her amiability, -and was as good as gold. Tom quite brightened up, laughing and joking, -like his old self; and we had Harry rushing out upon his bicycle -directly his office closed, and staying to sleep night after night, so -as to get long evenings with his betrothed. I never saw a pair of lovers -behave with better taste. Instead of hiding themselves in an empty room -for hours, they would play a rubber of whist with the old folks, and -Emily would sing our favourite songs to us, and duets with Lily; and -Harry was like a big boy again with his "Mummie" and his "Mater" and his -many pranks. It was delicious to wake in the night and think of him back -in the family nest--to picture him as he had looked when I went in to -tuck him up, turning his handsome head to kiss his mother. It was a good -time altogether--except for the one thing; _that_ spoiled all--for me, -at any rate, if not for the others. - -Every day, and nearly all day long, Emily and I busied ourselves -preparing the new house. The dears had wished to live in our -neighbourhood, like the devoted children that they were, and had fallen -in love with a sweet little villa of half a dozen rooms, in a neat, -small garden, which was the ideal home for a bride and bridegroom of -large refinement and small means. It was a Boom property going cheap, -and Tom and I stretched a point to buy it outright and make them a -present of it; so that I could look forward to having my dear -daughter-in-law near me for many years to come. Such proximity might -have been inconvenient in the case of another person, but I had no fear -of the old prejudice against mothers-in-law operating here. - -The drawing-room, furnished entirely to my own design, was a picture. We -had the floor stained and rugs spread about; as Emily said, that was one -of the charms of living out of streets, which, however well-watered, -continually covered your things with dust, as if the house had pores to -take it in by. In town, if you want polished surfaces, you must simply -live with a duster in your hand. Then we papered the walls yellow and -painted the woodwork cream; and we made delightful chintz curtains and -covers for inexpensive furniture, and got a handy carpenter to carry out -our ideas for overmantel and bookcases, and used I don't know how many -tins of Aspinall. Without going into further particulars, I may say that -it was the prettiest little home that can be imagined when all was done. -Emily was only too pleased to leave everything to my taste and judgment, -and I cannot remember ever having a job that I enjoyed more thoroughly. - -Then she had to go back to her mother to get her clothes ready. And, -because I could not do without her altogether, I often joined her in -town and had an hour's shopping or sewing with her. I accompanied her, -of course, when she went to choose the wedding-gown--a walking costume -of cloth and silk that would be useful to her afterwards--and on the -following day I kept an appointment we had made to interview a -dressmaker. - -For the first time, she was not waiting for me. Her mother met me -instead--a nice, superior sort of woman, quite different from Mrs. -Juke--but a little inclined to be offhand, even with me. I also detected -in her manner a trace of that jealous spirit which above all things I -abhor, especially in mothers, whose natural instinct it is to sacrifice -and efface themselves for their children's good. - -"Emily is out," she said. "You can't have her. You'll have to do as I -mostly have to do--attend to your business alone." - -"But it is her business I am going to attend to--not my own," I said; -"and I cannot possibly do it without her. It is entirely for her -pleasure and convenience that I have come in to-day, Mrs. Blount, and -she faithfully promised to be ready for me at three." - -"Well, you see, sickness is not like anything else--it's got to come -first. It's not an hour since she was sent for, and there was no way of -getting a message to you. She told me to give you her love, and say how -sorry she was." - -"Will she be long, do you think?" - -"I couldn't say; but she took her nightgown with her." - -"Oh! Then I may as well go home at once. And when she wants me again, -she can send me word." I was inclined to be annoyed with Emily for -running me about for nothing, but--providentially--it occurred to me to -inquire what her errand was. - -"It's the child," said Mrs. Blount, "that's not very well." - -"What child?" - -"The little Juke baby. He has only a cold, his mother thinks, but, as -the doctor is away just now, she's nervous about him. So she sent for -Emily." - -"For _Emily!_" My heart swelled. I cannot describe the feeling that came -over me. Mrs. Blount stared at me in an odd way, and I have no doubt had -cause to do so; I must have stared at her like a daft creature. Neither -of us spoke another word. I just turned and ran out of the house, ran -all the way to the tram road, ran after a tram that had already passed -the end of the street, and in a quarter of an hour was jumping from the -dummy of another opposite my darling daughter's door. No doubt my fellow -travellers smiled to see a matron of my years conducting herself in that -manner, but I cast dignity to the winds. A new maid who did not know me -answered my sharp pull at the house bell, and told me Mrs. Juke was not -at home to visitors. - -"How is the baby?" I gasped out, trembling in every limb. - -"We have just sent for Dr. Errington," she replied. And then I rushed -past her and upstairs to Phyllis's room. - -As soon as I opened the door, and heard the sound in the air, I -recognised croup. It reminded me of times, in years gone by, when I had -wakened in the night and wondered for a moment what the extraordinary -noise was that pulsed through the house like the snoring of a wild -animal, and then leaped from my bed in agony as if a sword had gone -through me. I could see my own child's face, swollen and dark with -threatened suffocation, looking to her mother for help with those -beseeching eyes: just in the same way they looked at me now, only now -the mother-anguish was wringing _her_ poor heart. She was walking up and -down the floor distractedly, with the baby in her arms--he had grown a -huge fellow, and weighed her down; and Emily was wildly turning the -leaves of a great medical book of Edmund's, blind with tears. Dear, -loving, futile creatures! It was more than I could bear to see them, and -to hear my Phyllis cry, "Mother! Mother! Oh, mother, tell us what to -do!" - -In one moment my cloak was on the floor and the babe was in my arms. He -struggled to cry, but could not get the sound out--only the brazen crow, -and harsh, strangled breath, which, I was informed, were symptoms of a -crisis which had only just appeared, attacking him in his sleep--and -Phyllis, when she had given him to me, clasped and unclasped her hands, -wrung them, and moaned as if some one were killing her. - -"Ipecacuanha wine!" I shouted. "Run Emily! Run over to the chemist's and -get it fresh--it must be fresh--and don't lose an instant! Hot water, -Phyllis, and a sponge! And tell them to get a bath ready!" - -They scurried away, and Emily, hatless and panting, was back from the -chemist's on the other side of the street before I had finished -loosening the infant's clothes; and he nearly choked himself with the -first spoonful of the stuff, which nevertheless I was obliged to make -him swallow. - -"He can't! He can't!" Phyllis moaned, tears that she forgot to wipe away -running down her poor face like rain down a window-pane. "Oh, he's -choking! He's going into convulsions! He's dying! Oh, Ted, Ted! Oh, my -precious angel! Oh, what shall I do!" - -I calmly gave him another spoonful of the ipecacuanha wine, for I knew -what I knew--that in ten minutes all this grief would subside with the -sufferings of the poor child--and almost immediately the expected -results occurred. It was an agitating moment for her, still imagining -convulsions and the throes of dissolution, and an anxious one for me, -because this was a much younger victim to croup than any I had had to -deal with; but when the paroxysm passed it was evident to everybody--and -the servants also were standing round--that his distress was already -soothed and the tension of the attack relieved. I put him gently into -the warm bath, heating it gradually till he might almost have been -scalded without knowing it, fomenting the little throat with a soft -sponge; and when I took him out and rolled him in a warm blanket, he -sank at once to sleep in my arms, and the crisis and the danger were -over. - -Then in dashed Dr. Errington, desperately alarmed because he was so -late, and full of suspicious questions. Phyllis took him aside and -explained everything, and, although it was hard to convince him that the -right thing had been done, eventually he was convinced, and owned it. - -"I congratulate you, Mrs. Braye, on your presence of mind," he said -handsomely. "It it not at all unlikely, from what Mrs. Juke tells me, -that the prompt measures you took averted a serious attack." - -"Thank you, doctor," I replied with a modest smile. "I am glad to prove -to you that I am of some use in a sick-room." - -He looked a little embarrassed--as well he might--and Emily flushed up. -It was her habit to blush at anything and nothing, like a half-grown -school girl. But Phyllis spoke out bravely. - -"Mother has just saved his life, Dr. Errington--that's all. If she had -not come at the moment she did, he must have choked to death. None of us -knew what to do to relieve him, but she knew at once." Then, as she -kneeled beside me where I sat on the nursing chair by the fire, she -dropped her poor, pretty, tired head upon my shoulder, and said, in the -most natural way in the world: "Father is right--there's no nurse in the -world like her." - -I have had many happy moments in my life, first and last, but I do think -that was one of the happiest. - -We sat by the fire until dusk--we three and the sleeping child. He had -gone off in my arms, and I would not permit him to be moved or touched. -As long as the light lasted I watched his sweet face, and the blessed -dew of perspiration on his still open lips and where the matted curls -stuck to his nobly-shaped brow; never had I seen such a splendid boy of -his age--except my own. I made Phyllis put up her feet on a lounge -opposite, and every now and then I met her wistful eyes looking at me -as if she were a child herself again. Yet I saw a great change in -her--the great change that motherhood makes in every woman--enhancing -her charm in every way. Emily sat on the stool between us. Once or twice -she attempted to go--and I wished she would--but Phyllis would not let -her. However, though not one of us yet, she would be soon, and in our -murmured talk together I instructed them both in some of the things of -which, in spite of a doctor being the husband of one of them, they were -alike ignorant. - -"Remember," I said, "never to be without a four-ounce bottle of -ipecacuanha wine, hermetically sealed when fresh, and kept where you can -readily lay your hand upon it. And when you find your child breathing in -that loud, hoarse way, or beginning that barking cough, give a -teaspoonful at once--at _once_--and another every five minutes until -relieved. Now don't forget that, either of you. You thought it only a -bad cold, Phyllis dear, but I could have told you differently if you -had sent for me. When he gets another attack----" - -"Oh, do you think he will have another?" she gasped, springing up on her -sofa with that unnecessary, uncontrollable agitation which I understood -so well. - -I told her I expected it, but that there was no need to be alarmed, -since she now knew how to recognise and deal with the complaint, which, -even if constitutional with him, he would grow out of in a few years. I -suggested causes to be guarded against--stomach troubles, the notorious -insalubrity of Melbourne streets, and so on--and reassured her as much -as I could. - -"Pray Heaven," she sighed, with tears in her eyes, "that I may never see -him like this again! Oh, I can't bear to think of it!" She shuddered -visibly. "He would have been dead now--now, at this very moment--and Ted -would have come home to find we were childless--if it had not been for -you, mother." - -"I think it very likely," I said, looking at the darling as I gently -swayed him to and fro on the low rocking-chair. "But he won't die now." - -"And he wasn't christened!" she ejaculated. - -"_That_ didn't matter," Emily put in, with her inevitable blush. "You -don't believe in that old fetish of baptismal regeneration, surely, -Phyllis? You don't think the poor little soul would have been plunged -into fire and brimstone because a man did not make incantations over -it?" - -I rebuked Emily. As I had before remarked to Tom, she had all sorts of -maggots in her head. It was the B.A., the advanced woman, coming out in -her, and I did not like to see it, my own family having been brought up -so differently. I observed with relief, that Phyllis took no notice of -her flippant questions. She looked at me--knowing that I should -understand--and said she felt as if it would be a comfort to her somehow -to have him baptized. I suggested that it would be nice to have it done -in the cathedral as soon as he was well enough; and just after that he -awoke, we gave him his medicine, and Emily went home. - -When I had dressed the child for his cot and made him comfortable I took -up my own cloak and bonnet. But Phyllis looked so aghast at the -proceeding, and implored me with such evident sincerity not to leave -her, and particularly not to leave the baby, that I consented to stay at -any rate until Edmund returned--although, as I represented to her, her -father would be thinking I had been run over in the street. - -When she heard her husband's step in the hall she made an excuse to run -down to speak to him about the boy, and they came back together, and -straightway embraced me with all their four arms at once. Edmund, who -has always had the manners of a prince, spoke in the nicest way about my -goodness to them. - -"And now you won't leave us any more, Mater dear--now you see how badly -we manage things without you to help us? I have sent a message to the -captain--I've asked him to come by the next train--and your room is -getting ready. You _will_ stay--for our sakes--won't you?" - -I wept on Edmund's shoulder, like a complete idiot. And of course I -stayed. - - * * * * * - -Shall I ever forget that springtime! The garden was a garden of Eden -with flowers and birds--the bulbs in bloom, bushes of carmine japonica, -great clouds of white almond and pink peach blossom overhead, and the -scent of daphne and violets at every turn. As for the house, it was a -little paradise on earth, which a house can never be, to my thinking, -without a baby in it. To see that dear child crawling all over it, with -Phyllis flying after him--to hear him chirping to his grandfather, who -seemed to forget there were such things as pigs and fowls to see to--oh, -it was too blissful for words! I easily persuaded Edmund that Collins -Street was a place for women and children to live in when they must and -get out of when they could, and he knew when he confided his treasures -to me that they could not be in safer hands. He told me so, and I am -happy to say the event justified his faith. Every time that he came -over--which was almost daily, though often he had not half an hour to -stay--he found them rosier and plumper, turning the scale at a trifle -more. - -As I kept them for the summer--in the middle of which we all went to -Lorne for a month--they were with me at the time of Harry's marriage in -the spring. Edmund came down that morning to fetch his wife and Lily to -the wedding, bringing a carriage for them and Tom. Of course they wanted -me to go--everybody wanted it--Tom almost flatly declined to stir a step -without me; but I said, no, I would keep house and take care of the -precious grandson. After the way I had been deprived of him in the past, -it was beautiful to think of having him for a whole day to myself. And, -as I said to Tom, it was all an old woman was fit for. - -"Oh, I like that!" he laughed, throwing an arm round my waist. "You know -very well you've only got to put your smart gown on and walk away from -the lot of 'em--bride and bridesmaids and all." - -Old goose! But I am sure when he was dressed, and the lilies of the -valley stuck in his buttonhole, he could walk away from any young -bridegroom in the matter of looks--aye, even his own handsome son. They -all kissed me fondly before leaving the house--my pretty girls, and -Edmund, who was as dear as they--and I stood at the gate to see them go -with the pleasant knowledge that I should be more conspicuous by my -absence than any one by their presence at the wedding party, except the -bride herself. - -In the afternoon, when Eddie was asleep and I was beginning to feel -rather tired of my own company, I had a visit from kind old Mrs. Juke. -She too had married her sons and daughters, so she could sympathise with -me. We had a comfortable tea together, and lots of talk, comparing -notes, as mothers love to do; and then we amused ourselves with our -grandchild, like two infants with a doll. She was of Tom's opinion that -he was the image of me, and she was in raptures at the improvement in -him since I had "saved his life"--as she persisted in calling the mere -giving of a simple emetic. Strange to say, with all the children she had -had, she could not remember a case of croup amongst them, and she did -not know the sovereign virtue of fresh ipecacuanha wine. Later in the -afternoon we walked to the new house, wheeling the perambulator in turn; -and I showed her everything, and she thought all perfect--as it was. She -was wonderfully agile for a rather stout woman, making nothing of the -long tramp; and her intelligent appreciation of artistic things -surprised me. I had long discovered the fact that she was excellently -educated. Her father had had large flour mills and been wealthy in his -day, and his daughters had all had advantages--far more than I had had -myself, in fact. Poor Mrs. Blount, on the contrary, had never mixed with -cultured people, as her accent indicated. - -"Well," said Ted's mother, in Ted's own nice way, when our inspection of -the little house was ended, "Emily Blount ought to be a happy girl." - -"And she is," I replied. "About as happy as a young bride ever was in -this world--except myself." - -"And me," said Mrs. Juke. - -"And you." - -I was glad and proud to believe that it was so. - -But since then I have wondered sometimes whether Emily appreciates her -extraordinary luck as she ought to do. Now and then it comes across me -that she takes it a little too much as a matter of course. - -It is very nice--very nice indeed--to have her living so near me, but I -must say she is not quite so docile as she was before her marriage. -Being a University woman, she naturally knows nothing in the world about -housekeeping, and it was only in kindness to her and out of -consideration for Harry's purse that I advised her now and then on -domestic matters. I thought to be sure she would be grateful for hints -from one of such large experience, but it was evidently otherwise, -since as a rule she did not take them. I told her that three pounds of -butter a week for three people was preposterous, and that light crust -made of clarified beef dripping was infinitely nicer as well as more -wholesome than the rich puff paste they put to everything; but she went -on taking the three pounds just the same. Though I gave her a sausage -machine and endless recipes for doing up cold scraps, I used to see good -pieces of meat thrown away continually; and a girl they had, who lit the -morning fire with kerosene, and who told my Jane that she "couldn't -stand the old lady at no price," broke crockery every time she touched -it, and yet they persisted in keeping her. As I said to Harry, if they -got into these extravagant ways when there were but two of them, how -would it be presently when there was a family to support? But your son -is never the same son after he has taken a wife, and Harry did not like -to be appealed to. The other day he said, "Please don't interfere with -her"--quite as if he were speaking to some meddlesome outsider. _I_ -interfere! The notion was too absurd. I reminded him how I had held -aloof from the Jukes when they were young beginners, as proving as I was -not the sort of person to force myself where I was not wanted, even upon -my own children. But he and Emily are not like my beloved Edmund and -Phyllis, who think there is no one in the world like "Mater dear." - - -THE END. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Materfamilias, by Ada Cambridge - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATERFAMILIAS *** - -***** This file should be named 40659-8.txt or 40659-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/6/5/40659/ - -Produced by Clare Graham, Laura McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images graciously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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diff --git a/40659.txt b/40659.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 78abd26..0000000 --- a/40659.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6584 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Materfamilias, by Ada Cambridge - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Materfamilias - -Author: Ada Cambridge - -Release Date: September 4, 2012 [EBook #40659] - -Language: NU - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATERFAMILIAS *** - - - - -Produced by Clare Graham, Laura McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images graciously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - -MATERFAMILIAS - -BY - -ADA CAMBRIDGE - -AUTHOR OF - -THE THREE MISS KINGS, A MARRIAGE CEREMONY, - -MY GUARDIAN, NOT ALL IN VAIN, FIDELIS, - -A LITTLE MINX, ETC. - - -NEW YORK - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - -1898 - - - - -CONTENTS. - - I.--THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL - II.--IN THE EARLY DAYS - III.--A PAGE OF LIFE - IV.--THE BROKEN CIRCLE - V.--A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING - VI.--DEPOSED - VII.--A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT - VIII.--THE SILVER WEDDING - IX.--GRANDMAMMA - X.--VINDICATED - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL. - - -My father in England married a second time when I was about eighteen. -She was my governess. - -Mother herself had engaged her, and I believe had asked, when dying, -that she would remain to take care of us; and I don't say that she was -not a good woman. She had been nearly five years in the house, and we -had the habit of looking to her for advice in all family concerns; and -certainly she took great pains with my education. But of course I was -not going to stand seeing her put in mother's place. I told father so. -I said to him, kindly, but firmly: "Father, you will have to choose -between us. There will not be room under this roof for both." - -He chose her. Consequently I left my home, though they both tried hard -to prevent it, and to reconcile me to their new arrangements. I will say -that for them. In fact, my father, pleading legal rights, forbade me to -go, except for some temporary visiting. I went on the understanding that -I was to return in a couple of months or so. But I was resolved not to -return, and I never did. While staying with my uncle, a medical man, I -privately married his assistant--one (if I may say so) of a -miscellaneous assortment of admirers. I am afraid I encouraged him to -propose an elopement; I certainly hastened its accomplishment. Then -after all our plottings and stratagems, when at last I had the ring on -my finger, I wrote to inform father of what he and Miss Coleman had -driven me to. Poor old father! It was a tremendous blow to him. But I -don't know why he should have made such a fuss about it, seeing that he -had done the same--practically the same--himself. - -It was a greater disaster to me than to him, or to anybody--even to my -husband, who almost from the first regarded me as a millstone about his -neck; for _he_ could go away and enjoy himself when he liked, forgetting -that I existed. Indeed, it was a horrible catastrophe. When my own -children are so anxious to get married while they are still but -children, and think it so cruel of me to thwart them, I wish I could -tell them what I went through at their age! But I don't mention it. I -promised Tom I never would. - -At twenty I was teaching for a living--I, who had been so petted and -coddled, hardly allowed to do a hand's turn for myself! My husband was -travelling about the world as a ship's doctor. Father wanted me to come -home, but I was too proud for that. Besides, I would not go where I had -to hear Edward insulted. After all, he was my husband, and our -matrimonial troubles were entirely our own concern. Not from him, -either, would I accept anything after I was able to earn for myself. I -taught at a school for thirty pounds a year, and managed to make that -do. It was a wretched life. - -I was barely of age when the news came that Edward had caught fever -somewhere and been left in a Melbourne hospital by his ship, which was -returning without him. At once I made up my mind that it was my duty as -a wife to go to him. He had no friends in Australia, and not much money; -it was pathetic to think of him alone and helpless amongst utter -strangers; and I thought that if I did this for him he would remember it -afterwards, and be kind to me, and help me to make our married life a -little more like other people's. In those days there was no cable across -the world, and mails but once a month; so that when I started I was -altogether in the dark as to what I was going to. The first news of his -illness--with no particulars, except that it was fever--was all I ever -had. - -I would not ask my father for money. Indeed, he would have frustrated -my purpose altogether had he known of it in time. I went to my old -godmother, Aunt Kate, who was very rich and fond of me, and begged the -loan of fifty pounds, not telling her what I wanted it for. She gave the -money outright, with another fifty added to it; so that I had plenty to -cover the cost of a comfortable voyage. I determined, however, to save -on the voyage all I could, that I might have something in my pocket on -landing, when funds would be sorely needed. To which end I engaged my -berth in the humblest passenger-boat available--Tom's little Racer, of -ever-beloved memory. They told me at the office that she was better than -her name--faster than many that were twice her size. I was young and -silly enough to believe them, and also to forget that by the time I -reached Australia Edward's illness would have long been a thing of the -past, and he perhaps back in England or well on his way thither. - -If the Racer was one of the smallest ships in the Australian trade, her -master, Thomas Braye, must have been one of the youngest captains. At -that time he was under thirty, though he did not look it, being a big -man, quiet and grave in manner, deeply sensible of his professional -responsibilities. I remember thinking him rather rough and decidedly -plain when I saw him first; but he was gentleness and gentlemanliness -incarnate, and I never afterwards thought of his appearance except to -note the physical inadequacy of other men beside him. - -He has told me since that _his_ first feeling on seeing _me_ was one of -strong annoyance. Though a married woman and going out to my husband, I -was but a young girl in fact--far too young and far too pretty (though I -say it) to be travelling as I was, without an escort. It unfortunately -happened that I was the only lady in the saloon, and that the ship was -too small to have a stewardess. Three wives of artisans herded with -their husbands and children in the black hole they called the steerage, -and one of them was summoned aft as soon as we were in the river to keep -me company. But as the others were disagreeable about it, and she was a -coarse and dirty creature, I myself begged Captain Braye to send her -back again. Poor Tom! By the way, I did not call him Tom then, of -course; I did not even know his Christian name. He says he never -undertook a job so unwillingly as he did that job of taking care of me. -How absurd it seems--now! - -We sailed in late autumn, in the twilight of the afternoon. I remember -the look of the Thames as we were towed down--the low, cold sky, the -slate-coloured mist, with mere shadows of shores and ships just looming -through it. Nothing could have been more dreary. And yet I enjoyed it. -The feeling that I was free of that horrible schoolroom, and that still -more horrible lodging-house, where I cooked meals over an etna on a -painted washstand, and ate them as I sat on a straw-stuffed bed--the -prospect of long rest from the squalid scramble that life had become, -from all-day work that had tired me to death--oh, no one can understand -what luxury that was! Besides, I had hopes of the future, based on -Edward's convalescence and reform, to buoy me up. And then I loved the -sea. People are born to love it, or not to love it; it is a thing -innate, like genius, never to be acquired, and never to be lost, under -any circumstances. When the Channel opened out, and the long swell began -to lift and roll, I knew that I was in my native element, though a -dweller inland from birth up to this moment. The feel of the buoyant -deck and of the pure salt wind was like wings to soul and body. - -But I had to pay my footing first. It came upon me suddenly, in the -midst of my raptures, and I staggered below, and cast myself, dressed as -I was, upon my bunk. Never, never had I felt so utterly forsaken! When -ill before, with my little, trivial complaints, Miss Coleman had waited -on me hand and foot--everybody had coddled me; now I was overwhelmed in -unspeakable agonies, and nobody cared. It is true that--though I would -not have her--the steerage woman came in the middle of the night; and -once I roused from a merciful snatch of sleep to find my bracket lamp -alight where all had been darkness. These things indicated that some one -was concerned about me--Tom, of course--but I did not realize it then. I -was alone in my misery, alone in the wide world, of no consequence even -to my own husband; and I wished I was dead. - -Early in the morning--it was a rough morning, and we were in a heavy, -wintry sea--the captain tapped at my door. I was too deadly ill even to -answer him; so he turned the handle and looked in. Seeing that I was -dressed, he advanced with a firm step, and, standing over me, said, in -the same voice with which he ordered the sailors to do things-- - -"Mrs. Filmer, you must come up on deck." - -I merely shook my head. I was powerless to lift a finger. - -"Oh, yes, you must. You will feel ever so much better in the air." - -"I can't," I wailed, and closed my eyes. I believe the tears were -running down my face. - -He stood for a minute in silence. I felt him looking at me. Then he -said, with a kindness in his voice that made me shake with sobs-- - -"I'll go and rig up a chair or something for you. Be ready for me when I -come back in ten minutes. If you can't walk, we will carry you." - -He departed, and the steerage woman arrived, very sulky. I was obliged -to accept her help this time. Captain Braye, I felt, did not mean to be -defied, and it was a physical impossibility for me to make a toilet for -myself. When he returned he brought the steward with him, and, before I -knew it, he had whisked a big rug round and round me, and taken me up in -his arms. I weighed about seven stone, and he is the strongest man I -know. The steward carried my feet, but it was a mere pretense of -carrying; he was only there as a sort of chaperon, because Tom was so -absurdly particular. Up on the poop, with the ship violently rolling -and pitching, the man could not keep his own feet, and let mine go, and -we did not miss him. Tom bore me safely and easily, like a Blondin with -his pole, to where he had fixed a folding-chair for me--it was his own -chair, for I had not been able to afford one--and there he set me down, -in the midst of pillows and an opossum rug, with that sort of powerful -gentleness which is the manliest thing I know. All at once he made me -feel that I was in shelter and at rest. As long as I remained on that -ship I could cease fighting with the difficulties of my lot. He would -take care of me. There are women who don't want men to take care of -them--I am not one of those; I have no vocation for independence. - -I found I could not sit in that chair, luxurious as it was. I think all -my worries and hard work and bad meals must have undermined me. Even -though Tom made me drink brandy and water, I could not hold myself up. - -"Oh," I sighed wretchedly, "I feel so faint and swimmy, I _must_ lie -down!" - -"So you shall," he answered, like a kind father, and he shouted to the -steward to bring up a mattress and pillows. In five minutes there was a -bed on the deck floor, and I was in it, swathed in fur and blankets, -like a chrysalis in its cocoon, more absolutely comfortable than I had -ever been in my life. I still felt ill and exhausted, and could not bear -the thought of food; but I breathed the sweet, cold, reviving air, and -yet was as warm as a toast, and no spray or rain could touch me. When he -had tucked me up to his satisfaction, placing his oilskins over all, he -took some rope and lashed me to the bars of the hen-coops behind me. And -there I lay all day, resting and dozing. No matter how the ship rolled, -it could not roll me out of my nest; being so secure, I felt the motion -to be soothing rather than the reverse. When not asleep, I gazed at the -pure sky and the gleaming tiers of sails, listened to the voices of the -wind and of the sea, and watched the stalwart figure of my dear -commander. At short intervals he would come over to ask if I was all -right; and at least once an hour he brought something with him--brandy -and water or strong broth--and fed me with it out of a spoon. Oh, Tom! -Tom! And I had almost forgotten what it was like to be tended and cared -for in that way. - -In a day or two I was well enough to walk about the ship and occupy -myself, and he was more reserved with me again. But still I always knew -that he was keeping guard over my comings and goings, and I felt as safe -as possible. His officers and my fellow saloon-passengers--none of them -gentlemen like him--were too much interested in my movements after I -began to move, and his eye seemed always upon them. Now and then I was -embarrassed and annoyed, and at such moments he quietly stepped in to -relieve me, never making a fuss, but promptly putting people back into -their proper places. At the first hint of trouble of this sort he had a -spare cabin turned into a little sitting-room for me--my boudoir, he -called it--where I might always retire when I wanted privacy. I found it -a comfort at times, but still my sleeping-berth would have done almost -as well; for I never wanted any visitor but him, and he never asked to -come. When it was weather for it, I lived on the poop in his -folding-chair--always lashed ready for me--and that's where I preferred -to be. Even when not weather for it, I often begged to stay, for the -support of his company; and sometimes, but not always, he would allow me -to do so, making me fast with ropes, and surrounding me with a screen of -tarpaulin. For hours I would lie, like a cradled baby, and watch his -gallant figure and his alert eyes, and listen to his steady tramp, as he -went up and down. I had no fear of anything while he was there, and he -seemed always there. I learned afterwards how terribly he deprived -himself of rest and sleep because of his responsibility for the safety -of us all. - -For the Racer was an ancient vessel of the tramp description, little -fitted to do battle with such storms as we encountered. Her old timbers -creaked and groaned, as if in their last agony, when buffeted by the -heavy seas; and the way she took in water at the pores, without actually -springing leaks, was dreadful. The clacking of the pumps and the gushing -of the inexhaustible stream seemed always in one's ears, and when waves -broke over her and drained down through a stove-in skylight, of course -it was far worse--even dangerous. She simply wallowed about like a log, -too heavy and lumbering to get out of the way of anything. I could not -bear to see Tom's stern and haggard face, to know the strain he was -enduring, and that I could do nothing to lighten it; but as for -_danger_--I never thought of such a thing! Not that I am at all a -courageous person, as a rule. - -I believe we were somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Cape when the -most noteworthy of our experiences befell us. We were struggling with -the chronic "dirty" weather--absurd adjective for a thing so majestic -and inspiring!--and I was on deck, firmly tied to my chair, and my -chair to the mast, dry under oilskins, and only my face exposed to wind -and spray, which threatened to take the skin off. I could hardly see the -length of the ship through the spindrift of the gale, and the way it -shrieked in the rigging was like fiends let loose. Bee--a--utiful! - -And Tom wanted to spoil all my pleasure by shutting me down in a nasty, -stuffy, smelly, pitch-dark cabin, where I couldn't breathe and shouldn't -know anything that went on, nor have a soul to speak to. However, I was -getting used to him by this time, and so, when he staggered up and -announced that he had come to take me below, because it was no longer -fit for me to be on deck, I told him flatly that I would not go. - -"You must go," said he. - -"I won't go," said I. - -"The captain's commands must be obeyed, Mrs. Filmer." - -"Not in this case, Captain." - -"In every case, Madam." - -"Not a bit of it," I persisted, laughing in his face, which was rather -grim, but yet not quite inflexible. "I am not one of your sailors, to be -ordered about. I shall do what I like. And this is exactly what I like." - -He condescended to argue, and then of course I would not give in. He -said he must use force and carry me, but that was an obviously -impossible thing to do without my assistance, considering the angle of -the decks. When I saw him looking really worried, I condescended to -plead myself, and I suppose he could not resist that. He has told me -since that he never felt the same man after this act of weakness, but -I'm sure I cannot see where the weakness came in. With great difficulty, -and meanwhile flashing anxious glances hither and thither, he got more -rope and made fresh windings and tyings about me. - -"You are a spoilt child," was all he said. He did not look happy, but I -was very pleased with the issue of our encounter. I felt that it had -strengthened my position somehow--taken away all my awe and fear of -him--and I would not have missed my subsequent experiences on deck that -day for anything. - -They were really tremendous. No sooner had I been trussed up like an -Indian baby in preparation for contingencies--no sooner had Tom left me -to give his undivided attention to the ship--than the chronic gale -produced a spasmodic and special one which I am sure was a cyclone of -the first magnitude, though he would not give it that name in the book. -What he called nor'-nor'-east had been the direction of the storm we had -grown used to, but just before he asked me to go below it had shifted to -"nor'," and now it jumped all at once to "sou'-west," with effects upon -the sea and the poor ship that were truly startling. Those wall-sided -mountains of water, that were bad enough to get over when we knew which -way they were going, began a furious dance together, all jumbled up -anyhow; and the first treacherous monster created by the change of wind -crashed bodily inboard quite close to where I sat--"pooped" us, as Tom -expressed it--and, washing over me, simply swept all before it, -including the wheel and the two poor men steering, who were driven upon -rail and rigging with such force as to injure both of them. How my -lashings held as they did I cannot understand--or, rather, I can, of -course--when strong wood was being torn from iron fastenings; and how I -issued alive from that tremendous shower-bath is much more wonderful. It -must have been the packing round me that saved my bones from being -smashed like the boats and hen-coops. I heard Tom's shout of warning -just before I was overwhelmed, and when I emerged, and could expand my -breathless lungs, I answered him, with a strange and joyful lifting of -the heart, "All right! I'm safe! Don't mind me, Captain!" - -If he had minded me at that moment we should have been lost together, -ship and all. She began to broach to, as they call it, and the -supplementary wheel had to be used at once to stop it, and just then our -lives hung upon a hair. The decks were filled to the brim, and I could -hear the deluge thudding down through the shattered skylight upon the -table set for dinner. And she rolled all but bottom upwards, the broken -rail going under and I dangling in air above it, and--and, in short, if -any one but Tom had been her captain she would never have been heard of -from that day. I am quite convinced of that. No man born could have -accomplished what he did--he says, "Nonsense," but I know what I am -talking about--although I was just as sure that _he_ would accomplish it -as I was that the sun would rise next morning. I calmly held on to my -supports, and waited and watched. Sometimes I clenched my teeth and shut -my eyes, while I prayed for his preservation in the perils he did not -seem to see. He called to me at short intervals, "Are you all right?" -and I called back, "All right!" And when the worst was over for the -moment, he scrambled to where I was, and fixed me up afresh. Never shall -I forget the look on his face and the ring in his voice when he spoke to -me. "Brave girl! Brave girl!" I think it was the happiest moment of my -life. - -"But I don't understand it," he said to me, later, when there was time -to breathe and talk. "Why are you not frightened? When you were first on -board, crying because you were seasick----" - -"I did _not_ cry because I was seasick," I indignantly interposed, "but -because I was lonely and miserable. You would have cried if you had been -in my place." - -"I thought," he continued, heedless of the interruption, "that you were -a poor little baby creature, without an ounce of pluck in you. But -you've got the courage of a grenadier. How is it?" - -"It is because I am with you," I answered promptly. - -I don't know what feeling I allowed to get into my voice, but something -struck him. Motionless where he stood, he stared at the great waves -silently, for what seemed a long time; then abruptly walked forward to -give an order, and did not come back. - -We were mostly silent when we were together after that. How hard I tried -to think of a common topic to discuss, and could not! So did he. But -while I had nothing to do but to think, he was terribly preoccupied with -the condition of the ship. She had recovered to a certain extent, and -was able to stagger on again, but she was a living wreck, all splintered -and patched, and the difficulty of keeping the water down was greater -than before. The pumps were always clanking, and the carpenter -hammering, and the sailmaker putting canvas plasters over weak places. -The whole ship's company were glum and weary, and the passengers--wet, -ill-fed, and wretched--complained loudly all the time, indifferent as to -how much they added to the poor captain's cares. He, though firm with -everybody, never lost his temper, or seemed to give way to the -depression that must at times have weighed him down. He was worthy to -command who could so command himself--worthy to be a sailor, which is -the noblest calling in the world. As for me--well, it was no credit to -me that I, of all on board, was satisfied to be there, and consequently -happy. I kept a serene and smiling face to cheer him. It was the least -that I could do. - -And it did cheer him. To my unspeakable comfort I was assured of that, -though he did not say so. I could see it in his face, and hear it in his -voice, when now and then he came to sit beside me, evidently for rest -and peace. - -"And so," he said, on one of these occasions, speaking in an -absent-minded way--"and so you are not nervous with me? Well, I hope I -shall be able to justify your trust." - -"You will," I said calmly. "You could not help it." - -"Heaven knows!" he ejaculated. "The glass is falling again, fast." - -"Never mind the glass. It is always falling." - -"I wouldn't, if I had any sort of proper ship under me. But this----she -isn't fit for women to sail in." - -"If she is good enough for you," I remarked cheerfully, "she is good -enough for me." - -"But she isn't. I don't ask for much--at my age--but I do want a ship of -some sort, not a sieve. Oh, dear! oh, dear!"--looking round him with a -restless sigh--"we shall be months getting to Melbourne at this rate." - -"I don't care," I said, "if we are years." - -He made no comment on this statement, which I blushed to perceive was a -mistake; and I hastened to remind him that Edward's illness must have -been over long ago. Then he began, in an abrupt manner, to ask me how I -thought the passengers were bearing the trial of short rations which he -had been compelled to lay upon them. - -One day we were at great peace, because the weather was beautiful and -the water in the well diminished. A hammock of sailcloth had been made -for me, and slung in a nice place, and I lay there almost the whole day -through, swinging softly with the ship as she soared and dived over -mile-long billows or swayed in the deep beam swells with the airy -motion of a bird upon the wing. The Racer could feel like that at times, -even yet; and I was too happy for speech or thought--that is, in a sad -and pensive fashion. So, I know, was Tom, although he too had no words -and hardly a look for me as he paced to and fro. It was just the -consciousness that I was there--that he was there--permitted to rest -together for an interval from our battle with fate. Even the sight of -his substantial figure, never out of my mind's eye, while my other eyes -saw only the lifting and sinking of the gunwale against the gleaming, -silky sea--even the roar of his strong voice, occasionally using -"language" in a professional way--could not take away the sense as of an -enchanted world enveloping us, as if we were disembodied spirits in some -heavenly sphere. But I can't describe it. Perhaps the reader -understands. - -The night was lovelier than the day--there was a moon shining--and one -literally _ached_ with the sweetness of it. Each of us was on the way -to bed, and somehow we could not resist the temptation to linger by the -rail a little. The ship was under command of the chief officer, and all -was well for the time. We were alone where we stood. - -Speaking of the change of weather and his late responsibilities, he -said: "If I am ever so unfortunate as to lose the lives committed to me, -I shall just stand still and go down with the ship--when I have done -what I can do." - -"If that should come," I returned, "please don't put me into a boat and -send me off without you. Let me stand still and go down too." - -"Not if there's a chance for the boat," he said. - -We had spoken in a light way, but deep thoughts welled up in us. "Oh," I -broke out--for I had not his self-control--"oh, it would be better than -anything that could happen to me now!" - -All he said to that was "Hush--sh--sh!" but I could not check myself -immediately. - -"I would rather die that way than live--as I must live when I no longer -have you to take care of me!" I wailed, reckless. "Oh, I wish I could! I -wish I could!" - -And indeed I meant it. Even as we went down, I thought, he would keep -the sea monsters from terrifying and devouring me; he would take care of -me, regardless of himself--that was inevitable--until we were both dead. -The fear of death was nothing to the fear of life as it would present -itself at my journey's end. I had _no_ fear of death--with him. - -He laid his broad, brown hand on mine that clutched the rail--a solemn -gesture--and he said, in a shaking voice, "My dear, it's well you remind -me that it's my business to take care of you. We have got our duty to -do, both of us. Come, it's getting late; it's bed time. We mustn't stay -here in the moonlight and let ourselves get foolish." - -Still holding my hand, he led me downstairs. At the door of my cabin he -gave it a great strong squeeze, and then let it go without another -word. He did not kiss me. Oh, true heart! Death to him would have been -infinitely easier than the ordeal I made him suffer through those long -weeks. But he never allowed himself to be overcome. - -It was not long after this that the dreaded moment came when land was -reported. Words cannot describe my terror of the impending change. It -was my only safe haven--my home--from which I was, as I thought, to be -cast out, and I simply dared not imagine what sort of life awaited me. - -The crippled Racer anchored in Hobson's Bay at nightfall. Most of the -passengers went off in boats, and those who rowed to the ship returned -with them. Dressed in walking clothes, I sat in the little cabin that -had been my sitting-room, listening and shivering, trying (with the -example I had before me) to brace myself to meet things as a brave woman -should; but no one came for me. Only Tom. Rather late in the evening, -when all had gone except the steerage woman and her children, with whose -husband and father he had made some business arrangement, the captain -entered my private apartment alone for the first time. There was an -indescribable expression on his face, which had looked so fagged of -late. His eyes did not meet mine. His whole frame trembled like a -girl's. - -"Oh, has he come?" I cried--I believe I almost shrieked. - -"No," said he; "he hasn't come. You'd better go to bed now--go and sleep -if you can--and I'll tell you about it to-morrow." - -"What is it?" I implored. "What has happened? What have you heard? Oh, -tell me now, for pity's sake!" - -He sat down on the little bunk beside me, and took my hand between his -two hands; he did it as a father might do it, to support my weakness -under the shock coming. - -"The fact is, Mrs. Filmer--the fact is, dear--I sent ashore for news. I -thought I'd better make some inquiries first. And--and--and----" - -"I know--I know! He has left the country, and abandoned me again!" - -"No, poor fellow! He died of that illness--six months ago." - -At first I did not understand the meaning of the words. It was an event -that had never entered into my calculations, strange to say. But the -moment I realised the position--it is a dreadful, dreadful thing to -confess, but God knows I never meant any harm--my arms instinctively -went up to Tom's stooping shoulders and, hiding my face in his breast, I -nearly swooned with joy. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -IN THE EARLY DAYS. - - -I was not a girl, but a woman, when I married Tom. He, a man incapable -of grossness in any shape or form, was still a man, healthily natural, -of ripe experience in the ways of men. Whatever our faults in the -past--if they were faults--the result was to teach us what we could -never otherwise have learned, the meaning of wedlock in its last -perfection. Don't let any one run down second marriages to me! The way -to them must necessarily be painful and troubled, and one always desires -passionately to keep one's children out of it; but the end of the -journey, bringing together, open-eyed to all the conditions, educated to -discriminate and understand, two born mates like Tom and me--ah, well! -One mustn't say all one thinks about these matters--except, of course, -to him. - -Talking of being open-eyed, I was so blind at one time as actually to -fancy that he was in no hurry to have me. When I gave him to -understand--hardly knowing what I did--that I should die or something -without him to take care of me, he said he asked nothing better than to -take care of me, God knew, but that how to do it for the best was what -bothered him. It did not bother me in the slightest degree. I depended -on him--only on him of all the world--and I told him so; and yet he -wanted, after _that_, to send me back to my father with some old woman -whom I had never seen, in another ship, while he took the Racer -home--which never would have got home, nor he either. And I a married -woman, independent in my own right, and over twenty-one! However, I -flatly refused to go, except with him, as I had come. He said he would -not trust my life to that rotten tub again, and I said--I forget what I -said; but I hurt his feelings by it; and then I cried bitterly, and -said I would go out and be a housemaid. - -The deadlock was suddenly ended by the Racer being condemned by the -authorities of the port as unfit for sea again. When that happened we -both decided to stay in the new country, and, having him near me, I was -quite content to postpone matrimony until things became a little -settled. It was soon plain enough that he was not anxious to postpone -for the mere sake of doing so; he only wanted a clear understanding with -father first, as well as with his owners, and to give me time for second -thoughts, and for considering the advice of my family. - -It took long for letters to come and go, and I began to be haunted in my -walks by a strange man, who--I suppose--admired me. Tom found this out -on the same day that he accepted an appointment as chief officer with a -Melbourne shipping company. I could not imagine what had happened when -he came to see me at my poor lodging with such a resolute face. - -"Mary," he said, "who's that fellow hanging round outside? I've seen him -several times." - -"Tom," I protested sincerely, "I don't know any more than you do. But he -is a rude man; he stares at me and follows me, and I can't get rid of -him. Of course, he sees that I am----" I was going to say "unprotected," -and hastily substituted "alone," which was not much better. - -"Well, now, look here--I've got a ship, Mary"--he did not pain me with -further explanations on that head; later I wept to think of his -subservient position in that ship--"and this means an income, dear. Not -much, but perhaps enough----" - -"Does it mean that you are going away?" I cried, terrified. - -"Not far. Only for a few days at a time. I start on Friday. This is -Monday." - -He took my hands; he looked into my eyes; I knew him so well that I knew -just what he was going to say. The colour poured into my face, but I -made no mock-modest pretence of being shy or shocked. - -As a preliminary, he questioned me as if I were on trial for my life. -"Answer me _quite_ truthfully, Mary"--he called me Mary before we were -married, but always Polly afterwards--"tell me, on your solemn word of -honour, do you love me--beyond all possible doubt--beyond all chance of -changing or tiring, after it's too late?" - -I told him that I loved him beyond doubt, beyond words, beyond -everything, and should do so, I was absolutely convinced, to my life's -end. I further declared that he knew it as well as I did, and was simply -wasting breath. - -"And you really and truly do wish to marry me, Mary?" - -I attempted to laugh at his tragic gravity and his awkward choice of -words. I said I didn't unless he did, that I wouldn't inconvenience him -or force his inclination for the world. I asked him, plainly, whether he -thought that quite the way to put it. - -"Yes," he said. "For I want to make sure that I--that -circumstances--are not taking advantage of you while you are young and -helpless. And yet how can I be sure?" - -He took my face between his hands and gazed at it, as if he would look -down through my eyes to the bottom of my soul. I shut them after a -moment, and tears began to ooze between the lids at the thought that he -could doubt me. One trickled out and splashed upon his knee, and my -heart began to heave with the impulse to cry in earnest. Then he drew my -face--drew me into his arms, and we sat a little without speaking, -hearing our hearts thump. - -"We'll chance it, shall we?" he whispered between short breaths. "Sooner -or later it must come to that, and better as soon as possible if I have -to leave you in Melbourne alone. You won't be so much alone if you -belong to me, even when I am away--will you, sweetheart?" - -I merely sighed--that kind of long, full, vibrating sigh which means -that your feelings are too deep for words. - -"I think I shall be able to answer to your father--I hope so," he -continued, rallying his constant self-control. "I think I am justified, -Mary. If not----" - -But I would not let him go upon that tack. Justification was absolute, -in my view of the case. I know what the ill-natured reader will say--she -will say that I threw myself at his head, that I forced myself upon him, -that I did not give him a chance to get out of marrying me if he had -wanted to; but that is only because she knows nothing whatever about it. -I cannot explain. I simply state the fact that we had one mind between -us on the matter, and if she doesn't believe me I can't help it. - -"This is Monday," Tom repeated, "and I sail on Friday. If we are going -to do it, Mary, I'd like it done before I leave. There's nothing to wait -for, if we don't wait for the letters, is there?" - -I told him nothing--that I was in his hands; and he proposed that we -should walk out then and there to find some one to "splice" us, as he -appropriately termed it, because it would be so much easier to attend to -all the other business after we were man and wife than before. - -Sailors have a terse way of acting as well as of speaking, and the -change that made life such a different thing for both of us actually -took place that very day as ever was. When the unknown admirer would -have followed young Mrs. Filmer in her evening walk--it was too hot to -go out earlier--there was no such person. Mrs. Braye was dining -delicately at a pleasant seaside hostelry, in the company of her lawful -protector, whose name alone was like a charm to keep his proud wife in -safety. - -We gave ourselves until Wednesday morning. Then we worked all Wednesday -and Thursday, like two navvies, to settle ourselves in the small lodging -that we selected for our first home. We were as poor as poor could be -and had to proceed accordingly, but little I cared for that, or for -anything now that I had him. On Friday afternoon he sailed--a -subordinate on that trumpery intercolonial boat, after being captain and -lord of an English ship--and I cried all night, and counted the hours -all day till he returned, when I went quite daft with joy. Not that much -joy was allowed us, even now, seeing that the greater part of his short -sojourn in port had to be spent on board. But it was wonderful what -value we could cram into the precious minutes when we did get them. -Again we had the agony of parting, the weary interval of separation, the -renewed bliss of the return, continually intensified; and then the -letters came--the letters we had tried, so unsuccessfully, to wait for. -Father desired me to come home for a time--a foregone conclusion--and -Miss Coleman did the same in more impassioned sentences. I daresay it -was heartless, but I laughed and danced with delight to know that it was -all too late for advice of that sort. And, to counteract any possible -feeling of remorse, Aunt Kate wrote in the sweetest way, all fun and -jokes, practically approving and encouraging me in the course I had -taken. To a young woman so situated, she said, fathers were quite -useless and superfluous, and she advised me to please myself, as I had -always done--that was how she put it. Best of all, she sent me a draft -for L500, either to come home with or for a wedding present, as the case -might be. And this precious windfall enabled us to take a little private -house that we could make a proper home of. - - * * * * * - -The worst of being on these small lines is the uncertainty about the -movements of your ship. In winter Tom would run one trip for months, or -suddenly stop in the middle for docking and repairs--a mere excuse for -laying up, I used to say, because trade was not paying expenses--in -which case he would have a holiday without salary, and the pleasure of -his companionship would be marred by anxieties about money. In summer -there were occasional special excursions, "round tours," that kept him -away for a month or six weeks at a time; and these were what I dreaded -most. - -We had not yet had this long separation, but I knew--knew, but would not -admit--there was danger of it when we had been married a little less -than a year. It was our second Australian summer, and the time of all -times when I could not endure to part from him. I had now grown -accustomed to having him at home for a day and a couple of nights -weekly--happily he had a command again, such as it was, and could do as -he liked in port--and that was far, far too little, under the -circumstances. - -He was sleeping late, and I, having prepared his breakfast, sat down by -an open window to read the morning paper until he should appear. As a -matter of course, I _always_ saw the name of our ship before I saw -anything else, even the Births, Marriages, and Deaths; she had her place -in a list of the company's vessels, with her sailing dates, in smallish -print, answering to her comparatively modest rank in life; my eye fell -on the exact spot by instinct in the moment of the page becoming -visible. I suppose it was the same instinct which to-day drew my first -glance to quite another column, where s.s. Bendigo stood in larger type. -My heart jumped and seemed to stop--"Christmas Holiday Excursion to West -Coast of New Zealand, if sufficient inducement offers." There it was! -And I felt I had all along expected it. - -I got up to run to Tom with the news. On second thoughts I decided to -let him have his sleep out before dealing him a blow that would spoil -his rest for many a night to come, and tramped round and round the -breakfast-table, moaning and wringing my hands, asking cruel Fate why -Christmas should be chosen--_this_ Christmas of all times--and how I was -to get through without my husband to take care of me. - -My husband looked most concerned when he saw what I was doing. "Hullo, -Polly, what's up?" was his greeting, as he faced me from the doorway; -and his bright home-look vanished like a lamp blown out. - -I could not speak for the rush of tears. I held out the newspaper, -pointing to the fatal spot, and, when he took it, abandoned myself upon -his shoulder. - -"Oh, Tom--Christmas! _Christmas_, Tom!" - -He read in silence, with an arm round my waist. For a whole minute and -more we heard the clock ticking. Then he cleared his throat, and said -soothingly: "After all, it mayn't come to anything--at any rate, not -till afterwards. People don't care to be away from their homes at -Christmas. It's only an approximate date." - -He was wrong. The postponements that invariably take place at other -times did not occur this time--as if on purpose. The hot weather set in -early, and it seemed that many people did desire to escape, not from it -only, but from the social responsibilities of the so-called festive -season. The Bendigo was a good boat, as everybody knew, and her captain -a great favourite with the travelling public. I don't wonder at it! So -that the passenger list filled rapidly, and every day brought us less -hope of a reprieve. Tom seemed a year older each time that he returned -from the regular voyage, bringing this information, and I know I nearly -drove him mad with my pale face and tear-sodden eyes. One day he told me -so. - -"_What_ am I to do?" he groaned, staring strangely. "How can I leave you -like this? I can't, I can't! and yet, if I don't go, Polly--it is all -our living, my dear----" - -Nothing ever frightened me so much. For _him_ to have that look of -agitation--my strong rock of protection and defence--he who had never -wondered what he was to do, but always knew and did it, while others -wondered--it was too shocking. I pulled myself together immediately. - -"After all," I said, with a gulp and a smile, "the other poor seamen's -wives have to take their chance of this sort of thing, so why not I?" - -"You," he replied, in his fond, stupid way, "are not like the others, my -pretty one." - -He meant that I was far more choice and precious. - -"Being pretty," I rejoined, "is no disadvantage that I know of, having -regard to the present circumstances. Now if I was delicate, then you -_might_ be anxious. Tommy, dear, I can't have you look like that! And -there's no reason in the world why I should not do as well as -possible--as well as everybody else does; indeed, I'm sure I shall. Of -course I shall miss you awfully--awfully"--my cheerful voice quavered in -spite of myself--"but there will be the proper people to look after me, -and--and--_think_ what it will be when you come back again!" - -He had me in his arms now, with my face under his left ear. - -"My brave girl!" he murmured. "My own brave girl!" - -Just as when he called me that before, my heart rose elated. I -determined to deserve the title. - -"Of course you must go," I said firmly; "it is our living, as you say. -No use having a family, and nothing to keep it on, is it? I suppose it -won't be _more_ than a month? A month is soon over. I can send you -telegrams. Don't you worry about me. I'm a wicked idiot to fret and -grumble; it is because you have spoiled me, love! I have got so used to -having you to take care of me----" - -I choked, and burst into fresh tears. - -However, I did manage to keep up very well until he went. Of course he -_had_ to go; we agreed about that. Not much of Aunt Kate's wedding -present was left by this time. We had our little home, all comfortable -and paid for, but his small salary comprised the whole of our current -income. It would never have done to jeopardise that. - -But oh, it was cruel! It _was_ cruel! He says I shall never understand -the agony of his soul when he bade me good-bye, and I tell him he can't -possibly have suffered the thousandth part of what I suffered. We -clasped and kissed as if we never expected to see each other again. I -really don't think we did expect it. And yet I was quite well and -strong, and every possible thing had been done to safeguard me in his -absence. Poor as we were, he made the nurse, who charged three guineas a -week, come into the house before he left it, and engage to stay there -till his return; and he also installed a nice old lady, whose son he had -befriended, and who he thought would be a mother to me when the time of -trial came. So she was; but not even an own mother could have made up -for the want of him. - -"God keep you safe for me," he prayed, as he held me to him, heart to -heart. "And you'll take care of yourself, my Polly. You won't fret, and -make yourself sick and weak--promise that you won't--for my sake!" - -"I won't," I answered him, trying to comfort him; "I will be as good as -possible. We'll _both_ be well and strong--well and happy--to meet you -when you come home again. Tom! Tom! _do_ you realise what the next -home-coming will be? Let us look forward to that." - -So I kept up to the last, to hearten him. The very last was the seeing -the ship go by at nightfall, on her way to sea. I lived where I lived on -purpose to have this view of her as she passed in and out. I watched for -her for an hour, and when she came it was too dark for me to see my -darling on the bridge through the strong glasses he had given me on -purpose that I might see him, and the flutter of his cabin towel against -the black funnel. Nor could he see me in the blue dusk of the shore, -with the evening afterglow behind it. But he sent a farewell toot across -the water, and I pulled the blind to the top of my window, and lit up my -room with every lamp and candle I could find. I knew he was looking, and -that he knew I knew it. We always signalled good-night in this way when -he passed out late. - -So I kept up to the very last. But when I saw his mast-head light go -round the pier, like a bright star in the evening sky, and glide towards -the sea that was to keep him from me so long when I wanted him so -desperately, then I collapsed like a spent bubble, and all my courage -went out of me. I think I fainted there by the window, all of a heap -upon the floor. - -At any rate, his back was hardly turned--he could scarcely have cleared -the Heads, we reckoned--when the catastrophe befell. I have often tried -to imagine what his feelings were when, at his first port of call, the -intelligence was conveyed to him that he had a son, and that mother and -child were doing well. He attempted to express them by letter, but he is -not literary. And he can't gush. All the same, I know--I know! - -Did I say that the happiest moment of my life was when he called me a -brave girl? I was wrong. The happiest moment of my life--even though Tom -was away from me--was the moment when I heard the first cry of my own -child. Words cannot describe the effect on me of that little voice so -suddenly audible, as great an astonishment as if one had never expected -it; but every mother in the world will understand. - -Oh, I am getting maudlin with these reminiscences! I can't help it. - -He was a beautiful boy--my Harry--worthy to be his father's son. We -called him Harry because Henry was Tom's second name, and also that of -my own father, whom I wished to please; for, after all, he was a good -father to me, and I used to think that perhaps I had not been as good a -daughter to him as I might have been. This thought occurred to me when I -had a baby of my own, and wondered how I should feel if, when he was -grown up, he were to take his own wilful way as I had done. It does make -such a difference in one's point of view, with regard to all sorts of -things--having a baby of one's own. For instance, I knew that Miss -Coleman--Mrs. Marsh, I ought to say--had two, and when Aunt Kate told me -I was actually angry about it; it seemed to me that it was just another -impertinence on her part, and that the children were interlopers in my -old home. I could not bear to picture them sitting on father's knee, and -being carried in his arms, filling my place and consoling him for the -loss of me. But now I was quite glad that he had them, and I sympathised -with Miss Coleman. I wished she could come and nurse me now, as she used -to do; how much better we should understand each other! I resolved to -have baby's likeness taken as soon as possible to send home to her, and -to ask her to send me the photos of her little ones in return. I was -convinced, of course, that there would be no comparison between them. -Doubtless hers were nice children enough--father was a particularly -handsome man, in the prime of life--but my baby was really a marvel; -_everybody_ said so. His proportions were perfect, his skin as fine and -pure as could possibly be, his little face too lovely for words, and his -intelligence simply wonderful. Before he was a week old he knew me and -smiled at me. He had Tom's fair hair and straightforward blue eyes---- - -However, I suppose all this is silly. At any rate, the silly fashion is -to call it so. - -It was dreadfully hot upstairs in that venetian-shuttered room, but -still I rallied quickly, and everything went well. The old lady was -indeed a mother to me, the nurse inflexibly conscientious, and my own -little maid like a faithful dog upon the doormat, constantly asking to -look at the baby and to be allowed to hold him. And yet--I know it was -ungrateful to them, but I could not help it--I never felt that I was -properly taken care of, because Tom was not behind them. I pined for -him--oh, _how_ I did pine for him!--happy as I was in every other -respect. While I was still weak, and inclined to be a little feverish, I -fell asleep and dreamed that the Bendigo had been wrecked, and that he -would never come home to see his child. I cannot describe how that dream -frightened me and haunted me--that, and the memory of our last parting, -when we seemed to have had so many forebodings. - -"If I could only go to him!" was my constant thought, knowing that weary -weeks had still to pass before he could return to me, even if his voyage -prospered; and once I put it into words, "If we could only go to him, -Mrs. Parkinson, _what_ wouldn't I give!" - -The old lady patted my shoulder soothingly, and assured me he would be -home in no time, if I would have but a grain of patience; while I had to -reflect that it was impossible to go a-travelling without money. I would -have "given anything" indeed, but I had nothing to give, though Tom had -amply provided for all my wants at home. Moreover, I could only have -left the house, while she was in it, over the dead body of my nurse. I -could manage the old lady, but not her; she was a rock of resolution -where her duty was concerned. - -Suddenly a series of things happened. The old lady had a telegram -summoning her to the sick-bed of her son--the very son that Tom had been -so good to--and flew to him, distracted. Poor old lady! My mother's -heart bled for her. And next day my little maid upset a kettle of -boiling water over the nurse (providentially, when the baby was not in -her arms), and the poor thing had to go to a hospital to have the -scalds dressed. She sent a substitute at once, because it was found that -she was for a few days incapacitated for her work; but I was able to -manage without the substitute. I told her I was now perfectly well--as -in truth I was--and therefore did not require her services. And the day -after that, by the English mail, I had a letter from _dear_ Aunt Kate, -which, when I opened it, shed a bank draft upon the floor. She had heard -that I was going to have a baby, and sent fifty pounds to pay expenses. -A box of baby-clothes, she said, had been despatched by the same ship; -for she didn't suppose I had any money to buy them, or that, if I had, I -could get anything in "that outlandish country" fit for a poor child to -wear. - -I went straight into town and cashed that draft, taking my son with -me--proud to carry him myself, though he nearly dragged my arms off. At -the same time I ascertained at the company's office that the Bendigo was -hourly expected to report herself from Sydney. - -"We will go to Sydney," said I to my little companion, as we travelled -home again, rich and free. "We'll get Martha's mother to come and keep -house until we all return together--with _father_ to take care of us." - -That same night I had a wire from him. He was safe at Sydney, all well; -and would I telegraph immediately to inform him how it was with me? -Would I also write fully and at once, so that he might get the letter -before he left? - -"We will telegraph immediately, to set his dear mind at rest," I said to -the son, who smiled and guggled as if he perfectly understood--and I am -sure he did; "but we won't write fully and at once. We can get to him as -quickly as a letter, and he would rather have us than a million letters. -Oh, what a simply overwhelming surprise we shall give him!" I was so -full of this blissful prospect that I never thought how I might be -embarrassing him in his professional capacity. - -There were no intercolonial railways then, and we could not have stood -the wear and tear of overland travel if there had been. Nor was there -any choice in the matter of sea transport. I was obliged to take the -mail steamer that brought me Aunt Kate's money, for it was the only -vessel going to Sydney that could get me there in time. I had to be very -smart to catch her, and just managed it, leaving my home at the mercy of -a plausible red-nosed charwoman who was all but a perfect stranger to -me. - -Of course I was an idiot--I know that; but, as Tom says, you can't put -old heads on young shoulders, and don't want to; and there is no -occasion to remember things of that sort now. _He_ never blamed me for a -moment, and I am sure I cannot regret what I did, when I weigh the -pleasures of that expedition against what in the end we had to pay for -them. They were richly worth it. - -The voyage, even without the nursemaid whom I did not feel justified in -adding to my other extravagances, not only did me no harm, but really -invigorated me. A new-made mother, I had been informed, was never -sea-sick, and my experience seemed to prove the fact; while as for baby, -in spite of his catching a little cold, which he might have caught at -home, the exquisite sea air must have been better for him than the -gutter smells of Melbourne. He was as good as gold, and the stewardess -was an angel, and we slept like tops all through our two nights on -board. - -It was afternoon when we entered Sydney Harbour--that beautiful harbour -which I had never seen before, but had no eyes for now. All I cared to -look at was my beloved Bendigo, and there she was at her berth, and the -blue-peter was up! When I saw that, I felt quite faint. I ran round the -deck asking everybody when she was expected to leave, and all but those -who did not know said at five o'clock. It was now three. So that, with -other weather, I might have missed her! And Tom would have gone home to -find----Great heavens! But with the misadventures that we did have, -there is no need to count those we didn't. As it chanced, I was in -plenty of time. - -It was nearly four before I could get off the mail boat, and it was -considerably past that hour when I hurried up the gangway of the -Bendigo, panting, and bathed in perspiration--for Sydney is a hot place -in January--looking everywhere for Tom. The second officer, who knew me, -uttered an exclamation as he ran to take my bag from the cabman; and the -way he looked at baby--then asleep, fortunately--was very funny. - -"Oh, Mr. Jones," I cried, "is the captain on board?" - -"No, Mrs. Braye; he's on shore," was the reply, accompanied with violent -blushes. "You must have missed him somehow. Are you--are you going back -with us?" - -"Of course I am," I said, as calmly as I could. "But he does not know it -yet. I had some business in Sydney, and I thought I would give him a -surprise. Don't tell him, please; I will go up to his cabin on the -bridge and wait for him." - -"He may be here any moment," said the young man. And, looking to right -and left in an embarrassed way, he asked if he should call the -stewardess. - -"Not yet," I returned affably. "I will ring when I want her. He will -sleep for a long time. He's such a good baby--not the least little bit -of trouble." And then I turned back the lace handkerchief from the -placid face, and asked Mr. Jones what he thought of that for a month-old -child. - -He said he was no judge, and behaved stupidly. So I left him, and went -up to the bridge, where Tom had a room composed of a bunk and a bay -window, entirely sacred to himself. I don't suppose a baby had ever been -in it, but the pillows and things I found there made a perfect cradle. -As I laid my little one down on his father's bed, I was afraid the -thumping of my heart would jog him awake, but it did not. He sank into -his nest without sound or movement, leaving me free to watch at the -window for Tom's coming. - -It was past five o'clock before he came, and I knew when I saw him why -he was so late. He had been looking for his expected letter up to the -last moment, and had now abandoned hope. I also knew that somebody on -deck had betrayed my secret when I heard the change in his step as he -ran upstairs. Ah--ah! Before I could arrange any plan for my reception -of him I was in his arms. Before either of us could ask questions, we -had to overcome the first effects of an emotion which arrested breath as -well as speech. Never when we were lovers had we kissed each other as we -did now. - -"But what--how--why--where?" the dear fellow stuttered, when we began to -collect our wits; and in the same bold and incoherent style I -simultaneously gave my explanation. Half a minute sufficed to dispose of -these necessary preliminaries. Then I led him into his own cabin, the -doorway of which I had been blocking up. - - * * * * * - -"But what are we going to do with him?" Tom asked--a singular question, -I considered, but he was full of the business of the ship--I wondered -how he _could_ think about the ship at such a moment. "Hadn't you better -make a nursery of my cabin on deck? It's empty, and the stewardess'll -rig you up whatever you want." - -"I will make a nursery of it," I replied, "when I want to bath and dress -him for the night. And, by the way, perhaps I had better do that now, -before we start." For our son had been wakened out of his sleep, in -order that his father should see how blue his eyes were. - -"Yes, yes, do it now," urged Tom, in a coaxing way. It was sweet of him -not to cloud my perfect happiness by hinting at the scandalous breach of -etiquette it would be to let a baby appear on the bridge while he was -taking the ship out. For my part, I never thought of it. - -He took me down to the deck, now crowded with people, who stared rudely -at us, and into the one cabin there, which was his own; and he called -the stewardess--a delightful woman, charmed to have the captain's baby -on board--and left us together, while he rushed off to speak with the -superintendent of the Sydney office, I suppose about my passage. Soon -afterwards we started, and until we were away at sea I was fully -occupied with Harry's toilet. Then came dinner, and Tom made me go in -with him, while the stewardess stayed with the child; and the short -evening was taken up with preparations for the night. It was arranged -that I should spend it in the nursery, of course, and I was strongly -advised to retire early. - -But the cabin was hot, and the outside air was cool, and I simply could -not rest so far from Tom. The moonlight was lovely at about ten o'clock, -so bright that, stepping out on the now deserted deck to look for him, I -could plainly see his figure moving back and forth at the end of the -bridge, outlined against the sky. And I could not bear it. Slipping back -into my room to pick up my child and roll him in a shawl, I prepared to -storm the position with entreaties that I felt sure my husband was not -the husband to withstand. - -He came plunging down the stairs just as I was about to ascend. I -stopped, and called to him. - -"Tom, _do_ let me be with you!" - -"I was on my way to you, Polly, to see if you were awake, and would like -to come up for a little talk. It's quiet now." - -He put his arm round my waist, and turned to hoist me upward. - -"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "Is that----" - -"Of course it is. You wouldn't have me leave him behind, all alone by -himself?" - -"But won't he catch his death of cold?" - -"How can he, on a night like this? It will do him good. And I won't let -him cry, Tom." - -"Give him to me. I'll carry him up." - -"_Can_ you?" - -He laughed, and took the little creature from me in a delightfully -paternal fashion, and without bungling at all. I had been half afraid -that he was going to turn out like so many men--like Mr. Jones, for -instance--but had no misgivings after that. Even when we encountered Mr. -Jones on duty, he was not ashamed to let his officer see him with an -infant in his arms. Certainly he was born to be a father, if anybody -ever was. - -It was very stuffy in his little house, which had the funnel behind it; -so he put a chair for me outside, under the shelter of the screen, and I -sat there for some time. It was simply the _sweetest_ night! The sea is -never still, of course, however calm it may be, but its movements were -just as if it were breathing in its sleep. And the soft, wide shining of -the moon in that free and airy space--what a dream it was! At intervals -Tom came and dropped on the floor, so that he could lean against my knee -and get a hand down over his shoulder. The man at the wheel could see -us, but carefully avoided looking--as only a dear sailor would do. The -binnacle light was in his face, and I watched him, and saw that he never -turned his eyes our way. As for Prince Hal, he slept as if the sea were -his natural cradle. So it was. - -Presently Tom went off the bridge, and when he returned a steward -accompanied him, carrying a mattress, blankets, and pillows, which he -made up into a comfortable bed beside me. - -"How will that do?" my husband inquired, rubbing the back of a finger -against my cheek. "It isn't the first time I've made you a bed on -deck--eh, old girl?" - -I was wearing a dressing-gown, and lay down in it, perfectly at ease. He -lowered the child into my arms, punched the pillows for our heads, -tucked us up, and kissed us. - -"This is on condition that you sleep," he said. - -"It is a waste of happiness to sleep," I sighed ecstatically. "I want to -lie awake to revel in it." - -"If I see you lying awake an hour hence," he rejoined, pretending to be -stern, while his voice was so full of tenderness that he could scarcely -control it, "I shall send you back to your cabin, Polly." - -So I did not let him see it. But for several hours, when he was not -looking, I watched his dear figure moving to and fro, and the sea, and -the stars, with the smoke from the funnel trailing over them, and -revelled in full consciousness of my utter bliss. - -Even now--after all these years--I get a sort of lump in my throat when -I think of it. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -A PAGE OF LIFE. - - -Does love fly out of the window when poverty walks in at the door? No, -no--of course not! Only when love is an imitation love, selfish and -cowardly, as true love can never be. I am sure ours stayed with us -always, no matter how cramped and starved. We never felt a regret for -having married each other, even when the practical consequences were -most unpleasant--never, never, not for a single instant. And yet--and -yet--well, it is all over now. One need not make one's self gratuitously -uncomfortable by reviving memories of hardships long gone by, and never -likely to be repeated. - -Another thing. _Is_ it fair that a sea-captain should have such -miserable wage for such magnificent work? He has no play-hours, like -other working men, no nights' rest, no evenings at home, no Saturday -holidays--no Sundays even--and no comfort of his wife and family. He is -exposed to weather that you would not turn a dog into, and to fatigue -only measured by the extent of human endurance; and accepts both without -a thought of protest. He has the most awful responsibilities continually -on his mind, as to which he is more inflexibly conscientious than any -landsman living; and he is broken and ruined if an accident happens that -he is but technically to blame for and did his utmost to prevent. Yet -all he gets in return is a paltry twenty pounds a month! At least, that -is what Tom got--with an English certificate and a record without a -flaw. It is because sailors are not money-grubbers, as landsmen are, -that the money-grubbers take advantage of them. - -Tom used to bring his money home and give it all to me, and he almost -apologised for having to ask for a little now and then, to provide -himself with clothes and tobacco. Moreover, he never pried into my -spendings, though anxious that I should be strict and careful, and -pleased to be asked to advise me and to audit my small accounts. In this -he was the most gentlemanly husband I ever heard of. And of course I -strained every nerve to manage for the best, and prove myself worthy of -the confidence reposed in me. But I was not much of a housekeeper in -those days. At home Miss Coleman had attended to everything, even to the -buying of my frocks; for my father had never made me an allowance--which -I do think is so wrong of fathers! If you are not taught the value of -money when you are a girl, how are you to help muddling and blundering -when you are a married woman?--especially if you marry a poor man. I -thought at first that twenty pounds a month was riches. But even at the -first, and though we used enough of Aunt Kate's wedding present to cover -the cost of setting up a house, there seemed nothing left over at the -month's end, try as I would to be economical. When the second draft -came I had doctor's and nurse's fees like lead upon my mind; we did not -invest that hundred at all, and it melted like smoke. And then--before -Harry was fairly out of arms--Phyllis was born, and I was delicate for a -long time; without a second servant my nursery cares would have killed -me. I thought Aunt Kate would have sent me help again, but she did -not--perhaps because I had neglected to write to her, being always so -taken up with household cares. And I got into arrears with the -tradesmen, and into the way of paying them "something on account," as I -could spare the money and not as it was due; and this wrecked the -precise system that Tom had made such a point of, so that I kept things -from him rather than have him worried when he wanted rest. And it was -miserable to be struggling by myself, weighed down with sordid -anxieties, tossing awake at night to think and think what I could do, -never any nearer to a solution of the everlasting difficulty, but rather -further and further off. And I know I was very cross and fretful--how -could I help it?--and that my poor boy must often have found the home -that should have cheered him a depressing place. He seemed not to like -to sleep while I was muddling about, and used to look after the -children, or clean the knives and boots, when he should have been -recruiting in his bed for the next voyage. For I was again obliged to do -as I could with one poor maid-of-all-work, and I am afraid--I really am -a little afraid sometimes--that I have a tendency to be inconsiderate -when I have much to think of. - -By the time that Bobby was born--we had then been five years -married--all the romance of youth seemed to have departed from us, dear -as we were to one another. Our talk when we met was of butchers and -bakers, rents and rates, the wants of the house and how they could be -met or otherwise; and we had to shout sometimes to make ourselves heard -above the noise of crying babies and the clack of the sewing-machine. It -was exactly like the everyday, commonplace, perfunctory, prosaic -married life that we saw all around us, and to the level of which we had -thought it impossible that _we_ should ever sink. - -Tom says, no. On second thoughts I do too. The everyday marriage was not -dignified with those great moments of welcome and farewell, those tragic -hours of the night when the husband was fighting the wind and sea and -the wife listening to the rattle of the windows with her heart in her -mouth--such as, for the time being, uplifted us above all things tame -and petty. And what parents, jogging along in the groove of easy custom, -can realize the effect of trials such as some of those that our peculiar -circumstances imposed on us, in keeping the wine of life from growing -flat and stale. The same thing happened at Bobby's birth as at Harry's, -Tom was perforce away, and I might have died alone without his knowing -it. Three months later the little one took convulsions and was given up -by the doctor; and the father again was out of reach, and might have -come home to find his baby underground. Never shall I forget those -times of anguish and rapture--and many besides, which proved that -nothing in the world was of any consequence to speak of compared with -our value to one another. - -But we forget so soon! And the little things have such power to swamp -the big ones. They are like the dust and sand of the desert, which cover -everything if not continually dredged away. And all those little debts -and privations and schemings and strugglings to make ends meet that -would not meet, were enough to choke one. Especially as Bobby cut his -teeth with more trouble than any baby I ever had, and as I, what with -one thing and another, grew quite disheartened and out of health, so -that I never knew what it was not to feel tired. - -The ignoble sorrows of this period--which I hate to think of--seemed to -culminate on the morning of the day that I am going to tell of--at the -end of which they were so joyfully dispelled. - -Bobby had cried incessantly through the night, so that I had only slept -in snatches, just enough to make me feel more heavy and yawny than if I -had not slept at all. I dragged myself dispiritedly out of bed, dying -for the cup of tea which did not appear till an hour after its time, and -was then brought to me rank and cold from standing, with no milk in it. - -"I forgot to put the can out last night," was Maria's cheerful -explanation, "and I waited in hopes that the milkman would come back, -but he didn't. And, please'm, what shall I do about the children's -breakfast?" - -"You mean to say you never left a drop over from yesterday, in case of -accidents?" I demanded, tears rushing into my eyes. "Oh, Ma-_ria!_" - -It sounds a poor thing to cry about, but I appeal to mothers to say if I -was a fool. Bobby was a bottle baby, and we had all our milk from one -cow on his account; and he was ill, and the dairy at least a mile away. -Rarely had I trusted Maria to remember to put the can out for the -morning supply, delivered before she was up; I used to hang it on the -nail myself. But last night, having my hands so full, I had contented -myself with telling her twice over not to forget it. With this result! -At any moment the poor child might awake and cry for food, and a -spoonful of stale dregs was all I had for him. - -There and then, with clenched teeth and a lump in my throat, and boots -on my feet that had mere rags of soles to them, I set off with the -milk-can to that distant dairy. It was a thick morning, and presently -rained in torrents. When I arrived, drenched to the skin, I was told -that all the milk was with the cart, and I had to wait half an hour -until the proprietress could be persuaded to give me a little. She was -unsympathetic and disobliging--I suppose because I had not paid her -husband for three months. On my return home Bobby, in Maria's arms, was -shrieking himself into another fit of convulsions; and the other -children, catching their deaths of cold in their nightgowns, were -paddling about on flagstones and oilcloth, fighting and squalling, and -trying to light the dining-room fire. They imagined they were helping, -but had spilled coals all over the carpet and used the crumb-brush to -spread the black dust afterwards; and the wonder is that they didn't -burn the house down. - -It was not quite just perhaps--poor little things, they _were_ trying -their best--but the first thing I did was to box the ears of both of -them and send them back to bed. I don't think I ever saw them, as -babies, take so small a punishment so greatly to heart. They snuffled -and sulked for hours--wouldn't even show an interest in the apricot jam -and boiled rice that I gave them for their breakfast and imagined would -be a treat to them--and were more vexatious and tiresome than words can -say. - -"I wish father was home," Harry kept muttering, in that moody way of -his; it is the thing he always said when he wanted to be particularly -aggravating. "Phyllis, I wish father was here, don't you?" - -"Oh," I cried, "you don't wish it more than I do! If father were here, -he'd pretty soon make you behave yourselves. _He_ wouldn't let you drive -your mother distracted when she's already got so much to worry her, with -poor little brother sick and all." Tears were in my eyes, as they must -have seen, but the heartless little brats were not in the least -affected. - -And father's absence was an extra anxiety, for he was hours and hours -behind his time. The papers reported fogs along the coast, and I thought -of shipwrecks as the day wore on, and began to feel that it would be -quite consistent with the drift of things if I were to get news -presently that the Bendigo had gone down. I knew how he dreaded fogs, -which made a good navigator as helpless as a bad one, and wondered if it -implied an instinctive presentiment that a fog was to be his ruin! I -remembered his telling me that if ever he was so unfortunate as to lose -his ship, he should cast himself away along with her; and the appalling -idea filled me not with anguish only, but with a sort of indignation -against him. - -"And he with a young family depending on him!" I cried in my heart--as -if he had already done it--"and a wife who would die if he went from -her!" - -I was in that state of mind and health that when, early in the -afternoon, I heard him come stumbling in, my solicitude for him suddenly -passed, and only the bitter sense of grievance remained. The grocer had -been calling in person, insolent about his account, which indeed had -been growing to awful dimensions; and I was fairly sick of the whole -thing. It was not my poor old fellow's fault, for he gave me his money -as fast as he got it, but somehow I felt as if it was. And when he -dumped down on the sofa beside me to look at Bobby, I began at -once--without even kissing him--to pour out all my woes. - -I was reckless with misery and headache, and did not care what I said. I -told him things I had been scrupulously keeping from him for -months--things which I imagined would harrow him frightfully, much to my -sorrow when it would be too late. And he--even _he_--seemed callous! He -mumbled a soothing word or two, and fell silent. I asked him for advice -and sympathy, and he never answered me. - -Looking at him, I saw that his eyes were shut, his head dropped, his -great frame reeling as he sat, trying to prop himself with his broad -hands on his broad, outspread knees. - -"Tom," I cried in despair, "you're not listening to a word I'm saying!" - -He jerked himself up. - -"I beg your pardon, Polly. The fact is, I'm dead-beat, my dear. It has -been foggy, you know, and I haven't dared to turn in these two nights." - -It seemed as if _everything_ was determined to go wrong. I could see -that his eyelids were swollen and gummy, and that he was half stupefied -with fatigue. - -"What a shame it is!" I passionately complained. "What wretches those -owners are--sitting at home in their armchairs, wallowing in luxury, -while they make you slave like this--and give you next to nothing for -it!" - -"It's no fault of theirs," said he. "They can't help the weather. And -when I've had a few hours' sleep I shall be as right as ninepence. Then -we'll talk things over, pet, and I'll see what can be done." - -I rose, with my sick child in my arms, and he stumbled after me into our -bedroom. For the first time it was not ready for him. I had been so -distracted with my numerous worries that I had forgotten to make the bed -and put away the litter left from all our morning toilets; the place was -a perfect pigsty for him to go into. And he coming so tired from the -sea--looking to his home for what little comfort his hard life afforded -him! When I saw the state of things, I burst into tears. With an -extremely grubby handkerchief he wiped them away, and kissed me and -comforted me. - -"What the deuce does it matter?" quoth he. "Why, bless your heart, I -could sleep on the top of a gatepost. Just toss the things on -anyhow--here, don't you bother--I'll do it." - -He was contented with anything, but I felt shamed and heart-broken to -have failed him in a matter of this kind--the more so because he _was_ -so unselfish and unexacting, so unlike ordinary husbands who think wives -are made for no other purpose than to keep them always comfortable. In -ten minutes he was snoring deeply, and I was trying not to drop tears -into the little stew I was cooking for his tea. - -"At least he shall have a nice tea," I determined, "though goodness -knows how I am going to pay for it." - -Poor baby was easier, and asleep in his cradle; the two others had gone -to play with a neighbour's children. So the house was at peace for a -time, and that was a relief. It was also an opportunity for -thinking--for all one's cares to obtrude themselves upon the mind--and -the smallest molehills looked mountains under the shadow of my physical -weariness. - -Having arranged the tea-table and made up the fire, I sat down for a -moment, with idle hands in my lap; and I was just coming to the sad -conclusion that life wasn't worth living--wicked woman that I was!--when -I heard the evening postman. Expecting nothing, except miserable little -bills with "account rendered" on them, I trailed dejectedly to the -street door. Opening it, a long-leaved book was thrust under my nose, -and I was requested to sign for a registered letter. - -"Ah-h-h!" I breathed deeply, while flying for a pen. "It is that -ever-blessed Aunt Kate--I know it is! She seems to divine the exact -moment by instinct." - -I scribbled my name, received the letter, saw my father's handwriting, -and turned into the house, much sobered. For father, who was a bad -correspondent--like me--had intimated more than once that he was finding -it as much as he could do to make ends meet, with his rapidly -increasing family. - -I sat down by the fire, opened the much-sealed envelope, and looked for -the more or less precious enclosure. I expected a present of five pounds -or so, and I found a draft for a hundred. The colour poured into my -face, strength and vigour into my body, joy and gladness into my soul, -as I held the document to the light and stared at it, to make sure my -eyes had not deceived me. Oh, what a pathetic thing it is that the -goodness of life should so depend upon a little money! Even while I -thought that hundred pounds was all, I was intoxicated with the prospect -before me--bills paid, children able to have change of air, Tom and I -relieved from a thousand heartaches and anxieties which, though they -could not sour him, yet spoiled the comfort of our home because they -sapped my strength and temper. - -I ran to wake him and tell him how all was changed in the twinkling of -an eye; but when I saw him so heavily asleep, my duty as a sailor's -wife restrained me. Nothing short of the house burning over his head -would have justified me in disturbing him. I went back to my -rocking-chair to read my father's letter. - -Well, here was another shock--two or three shocks, each sharper than the -last. My beloved aunt was dead. She had had an uncertain heart for -several years, and it had failed her suddenly, as is the way of such. -She went to church on a Sunday night, returned in good spirits and -apparently good health, ate a hearty supper, retired to her room as -usual, and was found dead in her bed next morning when her maid took in -her tea. This sad news sufficed me for some minutes. Seen through a -curtain of thick tears, the words ran into each other, and I could not -read further. Dear, dear Aunt Kate! She was an odd, quick-tempered old -lady, cantankerous at times; but how warm-hearted, how just and -generous, how good to me, even when I did not care to please her! When -one is a wife, and especially when one is a mother, all other -relationships lose their binding power; but still I could not help -crying for a little while over the loss of Aunt Kate. And I can honestly -say that I did not think of her money until after I had wiped my eyes -and resumed reading. When I turned over a leaf and saw the word, I -remembered the importance of her will to all her relatives. I said to -myself, "After all, the hundred pounds does come from her. It is her -legacy to me." And I was sordid enough to feel a pang of disappointment -because--being her last bequest--it was so small. - -"We buried her yesterday," wrote father, "and the will was read after -the funeral, and has proved a great and painful surprise to us. She has -left the bulk of her money to a man I never even heard of, an engineer -in India. Uncle John says his father was an admirer of hers when she was -a girl, but she never mentioned the name--Keating--to me, and I can't -understand the thing at all. She was always eccentric, and some of us -think we might contest the will with a fair chance of success. However, -my lawyer advises to the contrary, and my wife also; so I, for one, -shall let it go. - -"She has not altogether forgotten her own family. There are a number of -small legacies, including L2,000 for myself, which will come in very -usefully just now, though not a tithe of what I expected. I have also -some plate and furniture. You, my dear girl, are the best off of us all. -Besides jewellery and odds and ends, she has left you the interest of -L10,000 (in Government securities) for life, your children after you. -This will give you an income of L300 a year--small, but absolutely -safe--and relieve my mind of many anxieties on your behalf." He went on -to tell me about powers of attorney and other legal matters that I did -not understand and thought unworthy of notice at such a moment. He also -explained that lawyers were a dilatory race, and that he was advancing -L100 to tide me over the interval that must elapse before affairs were -settled. - -Again I went into my room and looked at Tom. How _could_ he sleep in a -house so charged with wild excitement! I regret to say it was that, and -not grief, which made my heart throb so that I wonder he did not feel -the bedstead shaking, and the very floor and walls. I ached with -suppressed exclamations; I tingled with an intolerable restlessness, as -if bitten by a thousand fleas. And still he lay like a log, drawing his -breath deeply and slowly, with soft, comfortable grunts; and still, in -an agony of self-control, I refrained from touching him. Baby woke up, -moist and smiling. His tooth was through; he seemed to know that it was -his business to get well at once. It is not only misfortunes that never -come singly; good luck is a thing that seldom rains but it pours. Harry -and Phyllis came home, took their tea peaceably, and went to bed like -lambs. I sent Maria, with half a sovereign, to a savoury cook-shop where -they sold fowls and hams and all sorts of nice things ready for table, -and she brought back a supper fit for a prince. - -"It is all right, Maria," I assured her, in my short-breathed, vibrating -voice, seeing her wonder at my extravagance. "I am rich now. I can -afford the captain something better than a twice-cooked stew. Spend it -all, Maria, on the best things you can get. And you shall have your -wages to-morrow, and a present of a new frock." - -When all was ready--the glazed chicken, the juicy slices of pink ham, -the wedge of rich Stilton, the bottle of English ale--I returned again -to my unconscious spouse. It was ten o'clock, and he had been sleeping -with all his might for seven hours. Surely that was enough! Especially -as he still had the whole night before him. I stroked his hair--I kissed -his forehead--I kissed his shut eyes. He can resist everything but that; -when I kiss his eyes he is obliged to stir and murmur and want kisses -for his lips. He stirred now, and turned up his dear old face. - -"Pol----" - -"Yes, darling, it's me. Are you awake?" - -He sighed luxuriously. - -"Tommy, _are_ you awake?" - -"Wha's th' time?" - -"It's _awfully_ late. Come, you won't sleep to-night if you don't get up -now." - -"Oh, sha'n't I? I could sleep for a week if I had the chance. Ah-hi-ow!" -He yawned like a drowsy lion. "I'd sooner have twenty gales than one -fog, Polly." - -"I know you would. But never mind about gales and fogs and trivial -things of that kind. I've something far, far more important to talk to -you about--something that will make your very hair stand on end with -astonishment. Only I want to be quite sure first that you are awake -enough to take it in." - -He called his faculties together in a moment as if I had been the -look-out man reporting breakers, and was all alive and alert to deal -summarily with the situation, whatever it might be. And I rushed upon my -story, showed him the letter and the draft, and poured out a jumbled -catalogue of all the things we could now do that wanted doing--beginning -with a leaking kettle and ending with his professional appointment, -which I had decided must be resigned forthwith. - -"And we will live together always and always, like other husbands and -wives, only that we shall be a thousand times happier," I concluded, as -I led him in to his supper, hanging on his arm. - -"No more fogs and gales, to wear you out and perhaps drown you in the -end, but your bed every night, and your armchair by the fire, your home -and family, and me--_me_----" - -"Little woman! But you mustn't forget, pet, that I'm not thirty-eight -till next birthday. A man can't give up work and sink into armchairs at -that age." - -"Of course he can't. We can find some nice post ashore. There are plenty -of things, if you look for them." - -"Not for sailor men, who know nothing but their trade." - -"Oh, heaps--any amount of heaps! And you can take your time, of course. -No need to hurry for a year or two. You want a long holiday. You have -never had one yet. And _I_ want _you_. What's the use of money, if we -can't enjoy it together? We have not had so much as one whole month to -ourselves since we were married." - -"Well, a sailor's wife must accept the conditions, you know." - -"Yes, when necessary. But it is not necessary now that we are people of -independent means." - -"Three hundred a year isn't three thousand. And we've got to educate the -kids, and put by for them." - -"No need to put by for them when they are to have my money after I am -dead." - -"For myself, then. You wouldn't like to die and leave me to sell matches -in the streets?" - -"Oh, Tom, don't talk about dying--now that it's so sweet to be alive!" - -"My dear, you began it. I vote we don't talk any more at all, but eat -our supper and go to bed. Here, sit down by me, and let us gorge. I -have had nothing since morning, and this table excites me to frenzy." - -We cut off the breast of the chicken for the children and a leg for -Maria, and demolished the rest. We drank the beer between us, out of one -tumbler; we devoured half of a crusty loaf, and cheese sufficient for a -dozen nightmares; and I never felt so well in my life as I did after it. -Tom said the same. - -But sleep was far away--even from him. We had to arrange our programme -for the morning--the fetching of Nurse Barber to take care of baby, the -business at the bank, the settlings of pressing accounts, the beginnings -of our innumerable shoppings; and whenever a silence fell that I knew I -should not break, something forced me to turn over in bed with a violent -fling and make loud ejaculations. - -"Oh, dear, kind, sweet Aunt Kate! To think that I am so pleased at -having her money that I cannot cry because she is dead! Oh, Tom, Tom! To -think that we never need owe a penny again--never, never, as long as we -live!" - -This was merely the effect of shock. We sobered down next day. And it -was wonderful how soon we grew accustomed to having an independent -income, and to feeling that it would not go half as far as it should. -Long and long had we spent the hundred pounds before the first -instalment of the annuity was paid over; we thought it was never coming, -and when it came it melted like snow in sunshine. One has no idea what -it costs to furnish even a small house comfortably until one begins to -do it, and a few doctor's bills play havoc with all one's calculations. -And my husband could not stay at home with me--rather, he would not. I -am sure there were dozens of situations that he might have had for the -asking--a man so universally beloved and respected--but he would not -ask. He was fit for the sea, he said, but would be a useless lubber -ashore--a fish out of water, a stranded hulk, and things of that sort. -The fact was he _preferred_ the sea--in which he differed from most -sailors--and hated streets and clubs and landsmen's pursuits. He said he -should choke if he were shut up in them, and I said, with tears, that he -cared more for the sea than he did for his wife and children. Of course -he declared it was not so, and his feelings were hurt; but he admitted -the strong affection. I was his mate as he described it, his nearest and -dearest--I and the children; but the sea was his comrade, to whom he had -grown accustomed--his foster mother, who had nursed him so long that she -had made him feel like a part of her. A foster mother is not much of a -rival to a wife so loved as I am, but, oh, how jealous of her I was! - -However, I don't believe that his affection for the sea had anything to -do with it. I doubt very much whether that affection was as genuine as -it appeared. My conviction is that he was in terror of the possible -indignity of having to live upon my money. Such utter nonsense!--when -wife and husband are absolutely one, as we were. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE BROKEN CIRCLE. - -I had my heart's desire at last--with the usual calamitous result. Of -course it came when I least expected it, and in the paltriest kind of -way--merely because a workman, whom I had engaged to put a new stove -into the children's play-room, chose to leave his job unfinished until -over Sunday, instead of clearing it off on Saturday morning, as he -easily might have done. There was no school on Saturday, and it was a -wet, cold day, when even the boys had to be kept indoors; so there was -nothing for it but to turn them and Phyllis into the dining-room--my -nice dining-room, which had lately had a new carpet--while I took the -drawing-room for myself and Lily, to keep her out of harm's way. She was -not very well--nor was I; and I confess that I was in a cross mood. I -had all my four children with me then, safe under my wing, and did not -know how well off I was! - -During the morning they were fairly good, preparing their lessons most -of the time; but after dinner they were at a loss for amusement, tired -of the house, restless and mischievous--very wearing to a mother whose -nerves were out of tune. Even Lily became fractious. I gave her a doll -and some picture-books and my work-basket to play with, but she fiddled -with them, and fidgeted, and would not settle to anything. She kept -listening to the noises from the dining-room--the boys paid no heed to -my repeated calls to them to be quiet--and uttering monotonous whinings -to be allowed to go there. - -"Mother, do let me go and play with the others." - -"No, Lily; little girls must not romp about with rough boys." - -"Phyllis is a little girl, and she's romping with them." - -"Phyllis hasn't a bad cold, as you have." - -"My cold is quite better now, mother." - -"No, it isn't. It is only a little better. And we mustn't let it get -worse again by running into draughts." - -"There are no draughts in the dining-room, mother. It's all shut up. I -can put the flannel round my neck, mother." - -Oh, I could have smacked her! But of course I didn't, poor little ailing -mite--barely three years old; besides, my attention was constantly -distracted by the boys, who, when not rushing into and out of the hall, -yelling and slamming doors as if they wanted to bring the house down, -were scuffling and thumping within the dining-room in a way to make me -tremble for my good furniture. I went to them once or twice to read the -riot act, and each time they left off what they were doing the moment -they heard me, sat mumchance while I scolded them, almost laughing in my -face, and went on worse than ever directly my back was turned. Boys will -be boys, Tom used to tell me, in his easy-going way, but I don't believe -in letting boys defy their mother with impunity. And when presently I -heard the yapping of a dog in addition to their own shouts and cries, I -was at the end of my patience with them, determined to assert myself -effectually once for all. - -Rushing into the dining-room, before they had time to hear me coming, -this is what I saw. The window open--cakes of mud all over the new -carpet--Bobby's dog, streaming with rain, on the nice tablecloth, -barking at Phyllis's cat planted on a silk sofa cushion, which she was -tearing and ravelling in her frantic claws--the children standing round, -Phyllis holding her cat, Bobby his dog, and Harry inciting the impotent -animals to fly at one another, all three consumed with laughter, as if -it were the greatest fun in the world. - -The first thing I did was to dash at Waif, knocking him out of Bobby's -hands and off the table--and I shall never forgive myself for that as -long as I live. It was a shabby mongrel terrier which Bobby had picked -up in the street one day on his way from school, and been allowed to -cure of starvation and a lame leg and keep for his own particular pet; -and the mutual devotion of the pair was a joke of the family. Waif was -now fat and strong, though as ugly as before, but when he scrambled up -from the fall I had given him he limped a little on the leg that had -been broken; and Bobby snatched him into his arms again, and turned upon -me with blazing eyes--Bobby, who had never given me impudence in the -whole course of his life. - -"Hit me, mother," said he, "if you like, but don't hit him--for nothing -at all." - -"You call that nothing?" I cried, and pointed to the pretty terra-cotta -cloth--one mass of smears and muddy footmarks. Ah, my precious boy! What -would a thousand terra-cotta tablecloths matter now? - -He seemed quite surprised to discover that a dog brought in from the -rain and a garden that was a perfect swamp could be wet and dirty, and -stared open-mouthed at the damage done. I marched him to the window and -made him drop Waif out, tossed the scratching kitten after him, shut -down the sash and locked it, and then turned to Harry. For Harry was -the eldest, the ringleader, the one who ought to have known better and -who set the example for the rest. - -"You do this on purpose to vex me," I cried vehemently, "and because you -know I am ill to-day, and that father is away!" I did not quite mean -that, but one cannot help saying rather more than one means in such -moments of acute exasperation. - -"Do what?" returned Harry, looking as surprised as Bobby had done. "I'm -not doing anything. And you never told us you were ill." - -"I have a raging headache," I said--and so I had as the result of the -long day's worry. "And I have been telling you the whole afternoon to be -quiet, and the more I tell you, the more you disobey me. Look at that -beautiful new carpet--ruined for ever! Look at that lovely -cushion--simply scratched to pieces! And a great, big boy like you, who -ought to be a comfort to his mother----" - -But there is no need to repeat all I said to him; indeed, I cannot -remember it; but my blood was up, and I know I scolded him severely. And -he answered me back, as he alone of all the children dared to do, which -of course made things worse; for if there is one thing I cannot stand it -is impertinence. He was just telling me that, if I chose to regard him -as a ruffian and a cad, he could not help it, when we heard a distant -door open--the way a door opens to the hand of the master of the house. - -"There!" I exclaimed passionately. "There's your father! We'll see what -_he_ says to the way you treat me when his back is turned." - -Tom came in, with that bright look he always wears when he sees us after -an absence. How could I have had the heart to extinguish it, and to make -his children quake at sight of his dear face, instead of flying to -welcome him, as was the rule on his return! But a mother's authority -_must_ be upheld. I said so to Tom, and he said I was perfectly right, -and that it was his business to see it done. He bade me explain what -was the matter, and I did so, softening things a little--more and more -as I went on--since, after all, it was nothing so very dreadful. Perhaps -I had been a little hasty and hard; I thought so when I saw how Tom was -taking it. He had that inexorable look of the commander confronted with -mutiny--as if really I were accusing the poor boys of murder at the -least. And when I saw how they stood before him--Bob downcast and -tearful, and Harry with his head up, teeth and hands clenched, too proud -to quail--oh, I would have given anything to save them! But it was too -late. - -"I am sure they didn't mean it," I protested, laying my hand on Harry's -shoulder, which felt as rigid as iron under it. "We can overlook it this -time, father, dear." - -"The one thing I will never overlook," he replied, "is misconduct -towards you when I leave you unprotected. If they don't know the first -rudiments of manliness--at their age--I must try to teach them." - -"But _that_ is not the way to teach them!" I cried--almost shrieked--as -he signed to them to pass out of the room before him. "Oh, Tom, don't! -don't! It is all my fault!" - -Harry turned and looked at me with an ice-cold smile, as if his face -were galvanised, and said calmly, "It is all right, mother. It is -_quite_ right." And then the three of them left me, Tom himself sternly -keeping me back when I tried to follow; and presently, with my head -buried in the torn pillow and my hands over my ears, I heard an agonised -wail from poor little Bob. Not from Harry, of course; he would be cut to -pieces before he would deign to cry out. Oh, what _brutes_ men are! I -hated Tom--though he was Tom--with a hatred that was perfectly murderous -while it lasted. - -We had our tea together alone--a thing that had never happened before, -on his first evening, since we had had a child old enough to sit up at -table. I had sent the little girls to bed--Phyllis for punishment, Lily -for her throat, and because I felt I could not stand her chatter--and -he had sent the boys. There were the usual first-night -delicacies--sweetbreads, wild ducks, honey in the combs--and for once -they were uneaten and unnoticed. All my preparations for his home-coming -were thrown away. He was glum and silent, evidently as upset as I was, -with no appetite for anything. As for me, I felt as if a crumb of bread -would choke me. And I would not speak to him--I could not--with that -shriek of Bobby's in my ears. - -"I suppose," he said, in a heavy voice--"I suppose I'd better resign my -billet and come home, Polly. They're getting pretty old now for you to -struggle with them single-handed. It's not fair to you, my dear." - -I treated this remark as if I had not heard it, and he soon rose from -his seat and left the room. He went into his little smoking den, shut -the door behind him, and locked it. - -When I thought him safely out of the way I stole off to see and comfort -my poor boys. They shared the same room, their beds standing side by -side, with a chair between them. When I crept in they were talking in a -low voice together; as soon as they heard me they fell silent and -pretended to be asleep. A smell of moist dog and an otherwise -unaccountable protuberance implied the presence of a third culprit--and -a flat contravention of one of the strict rules of the house--but I took -no notice, although terrified lest Bobby's shirt and sheets should be -dampened, and sickened by the thought of the fleas that would infest -him. Oh, how thankful I am now that I took no notice, and did not snatch -his bit of comfort from his arms! - -I sat down on the chair and leaned over Harry, smoothed his hair from -his brow, and kissed him. I might as well have kissed the bed-post. He -is a peculiar boy--a little hard-natured and perverse--and he can never -bear anybody to pity him. I was not surprised that he repulsed me, -though I felt dreadfully hurt. My beloved Bobby--my angel, whom I never -rightly appreciated until I had lost him--he was quite different. He -kissed me back again, and whimpered when I talked to him, and told me -he had never meant to be as naughty as father thought. Bless him! I knew -he never did. I told him so. But even then he was just a little reserved -with me, as if he could not quite forgive me for what I had brought upon -him--which was bitter enough at the time, but an agony to think of -afterwards, as it is to this day. So I went away to my room and cried in -the dark, utterly miserable. And I thought to myself, "If this is how -they feel towards me, how will they regard their father, who has treated -them so brutally? Why, they will never have an atom of affection for him -again!" - -But when I went back to them, hoping for a warmer welcome, and anxious -about their poor empty stomachs, there was Tom, sitting on the chair -between their beds, chatting to them, and they to him, as if nothing had -occurred--aye, although Waif had been deposed and banished. Another -chair had been dragged up, and a tray stood on it--a tray piled with -food, duck and sweetbread, cold beef and tongue, all mixed -together--which he was serving out in lavish helpings, with plenty of -bread-and-butter. Harry, leaning on his elbow, rested his head on his -father's arm; Bob, crouched at his knees on the floor, looked up at him -with his dear merry eyes, that bore no malice--not even a reproach. They -did not see me at the door, where I stood a minute to watch them, -suffocated by the sense of being shut out. - -I did not think it was quite right of Tom. But I did not say so. When he -called to me to come in and be apologised to--the boys did it -handsomely, but still rather perfunctorily, I fancied--I was glad to let -bygones be bygones, and to feel we were a united family once more. - -And I thought the incident ended there. Nothing more was said about it -while Tom remained at home, and he went away as usual, giving me--even -me--not the faintest indication of what was in his mind. So that I was -completely dumfoundered when, on his next return, he said, in a -tremulous tone of voice and with quite a tragic air generally: - -"Well, Polly, I've done it." - -"_What?_" I cried, guessing his meaning in an instant, for I remembered -his remark at tea that night when we were all so unhappy. "You _don't_ -mean to say you have thrown up your command--thrown away -everything--just _now_, when we want so badly to increase our income and -not to lessen it--without a word of warning?" - -"No warning?" quoth he. "Why, haven't you been at me every day for the -last dozen years to do it? And quite right too. It's bad for boys to -grow up without a father to look after them, and their welfare is of -more importance than anything else." - -"You say that, and at the same time take away all chance of their having -a decent education and a fair start in the world! How am I to keep them -at the Grammar School, and have a governess for the girls, and support -the house and all, on my poor three hundred a year?" - -I should not have said it, and could have cut my tongue out before the -words were half uttered, but somehow the first news of the shock that we -were to lose half our income, on which we already found it no easy -matter to make ends meet, was overwhelming. And we were so accustomed to -speak freely whatever was in our minds that I never anticipated he would -take a chance remark so ill. I suppose his interview with the owners had -agitated him; as I heard afterwards, the whole office had expressed -regrets at his leaving the service, and said all kinds of nice and -flattering things about him; otherwise I am sure he would not have given -way as he did. He just turned from me, put his arms on the mantelpiece, -and, dropping his head down, gave a sob under his breath. My own good -husband! That ever I should have been the cause--however innocently--of -bringing a tear to his dear eyes, a moment's pang to his faithful heart! - -Of course he forgave me at once--he always does; and in a few minutes we -were talking things over in peace and comfort, while I sat on his -knee--for the children were in school, happily. - -"As for income, Polly, you don't suppose I am going to live on you?" he -said--and a very unkind thing it was to say, as I told him. "You don't -imagine I intend to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs, while you take -the whole burden on your little shoulders--do you?" - -"I don't see why you shouldn't," I replied. "At any rate for a long -while to come. I'm sure if any one ever earned the right to a thorough -rest, you have. And, oh, Tom, no burden can be a burden with you here to -help me!" - -"Thanks, old girl. That's good hearing." - -"As if you wanted to be told that! And by and by, when you have had a -nice long spell, there are sure to be posts offered to you about the -ports----" - -"No, Polly; don't delude yourself with that idea. There are no posts for -a sailor who leaves sea--that is, one or two, perhaps, and a hundred -fellows wanting them. I should be no good at office work, among the -smart hands, and the life would kill me. No, I've a better notion than -that--it's been in my mind a long time, and I've been talking it over -with experts, men who thoroughly understand the matter----" - -"And not with me!" I interposed reproachfully. - -"Well, I didn't see the use of disturbing your mind until one could do -something. But now the time has come." He was quite bright and excited. -"Look here, Polly--listen, dear, till I have explained fully--my idea is -to take a little farm place on the outskirts of Melbourne----" - -"A farm!" I broke in. "Are _you_ one of those who think that farming -comes by instinct and doesn't have to be learned like other trades?" - -"I don't mean that kind of farm, but just a few acres of good land--more -on the edge of the country than in it, you understand--near enough for -the boys to get to the Grammar School by train or on ponies--and breed -pigs----" - -"Oh, pigs!" I echoed, sniffing. - -"Well, if you objected to pigs, there's poultry. With a few incubators -we could rear fowls enough to supply all Melbourne. Or bees. There's a -great trade to be done in honey if you know how to set about it. Bees -feed themselves, and flowers cost nothing--I particularly want us to -live among plenty of flowers--and I could make the boxes myself. But -pigs are the thing, Polly. I've gone into the question thoroughly, and -there's no doubt about it. You see, we should be able to keep -cows--think how splendid to give the children fresh milk from our own -dairy, as much as they can drink!--and we could send the rest to a -factory and get the buttermilk back for the pigs. And vegetables--of -course we'd have a big garden--and they'd eat all the surplus that would -otherwise go to waste, and the fallen fruit, and the refuse from the -kitchen; so that really the cost of feed would be next to nothing. The -pork would be first-class on such a diet, given the right breed to -begin with, and what Melbourne markets couldn't absorb we might ship -frozen to England." - -And so on. - -Well, it was a fascinating picture, and his enthusiasm was contagious. -I, too, thought it would be lovely to live amongst cows and flowers, and -at the same time be making a fortune out of our Arcadian surroundings. -So I went in for the little farm, and all the three classes of -profitable stock--pigs, fowls, bees--in short, everything. What would -have happened to us if Tom had not made a few unexpected thousands by -the purest accident, I don't know. He did a little deal in mining -shares, under the direction of a strangely disinterested friend who was -expert at that business, and so saved us all from ruin. I may add that -it was his sole exploit of the kind. I would not let him gamble any -more--beyond putting an annual pound or two in Tattersall's -Sweeps--because, although he thought he had been very smart, he was as -ignorant as a confiding infant of the ways of money dealers, and never -could have experienced such another stroke of luck. He was easily -persuaded to let well alone, as always to defer to and see the -reasonableness of any wish of mine. - -It was before we had fairly plunged into our messes and muddles--in the -very beginning, when the _couleur de rose_ was over all--when the -dilapidations of our country cottage were all repaired, and everything -in the most beautiful order--when the fields were rich with spring grass -and the scent of wattle-blossom, and the sleek cows had calved, and the -hens were clucking about with thriving families of chicks--when the bee -boxes were still a-making, and the two first pigs only in their smart -new sty--when the children, released from the schoolroom, were -scampering everywhere with their father, who was more of a child than -any of them, and growing fat and rosy on the sweet air and the pure -milk--when we were telling one another all day that we never were so -happy and so well off--it was then that the calamity of our lives -befell us. - -A small creek touched the borders of the two paddocks that we called our -farm, and, like all creeks, was fringed with wild vegetation, bushes and -trees that interposed a romantic screen between its little bed and the -world of prosaic agriculture. It so happened that the children--like -many thousands of native Australians, far older than they--had never -seen the bush. When they had wanted change of air Tom had taken them to -sea; and as he had never had holidays himself, and I had never cared to -go away from home without him, we were nearly in the same case. That -strip of scrub was true bush, as far as it went, and we were delighted -in it. - -We were too busy just then to go thither in daytime, and would not allow -the children to ramble there alone, for fear of snakes--although it was -much too early and too cool for them; besides which, there were -none--but we would take the fascinating walk about sundown in a family -party, and sometimes have our tea there, returning after dark with -strange treasures of leaf and insect, clear pebbles that we made sure -were topazes in the rough, and stones with mica specks in them that we -thought were gold. And once we went there in moonlight--the full moon of -our first October--when it was mild and balmy, and we could easily -imagine ourselves in forests primeval untrodden by a human foot except -our own! How well I remember it--as if it were yesterday!--the enormous -look of the trees in that beautiful, deceptive light, and how we stood -in an ecstatic group under one of them to look up at an oppossum sitting -in the fork of a dead branch. - -Many people think that oppossums, like snakes and laughing jackasses, -are common objects of the country in all its parts; but that is not the -case nowadays with any of the three, and none of our family had beheld -the dear little furry animal, except dead in a museum or torpid in the -Zooelogical Gardens, while it had been one of the great ambitions of our -lives to do so. And here he was, alive, alert, and unmistakable, his -ears sticking up and his bushy tail hanging down, sitting against the -moon, as I had seen roosting pheasants in the woods at home, looking -down at us with the intense interest that an oppossum is able to take in -things at that hour. The excitement was tremendous. The boys literally -danced round and round the tree, and Waif was beside himself; he made -frantic leaps upward, turning somersaults in the rebound, wildly tore at -the bark of the tree and the earth at its roots, and filled the quiet -night with his impassioned yaps and squeaks. He also, to the best of our -belief, had never seen an oppossum before; yet he was as keen as a -foxhound after a fox to get at and destroy it. - -The little animal did not seem to mind. It sat still and gazed at us, as -is the way of an oppossum, even when you have no camp-fire or lantern to -mesmerise and paralyse it; we could almost fancy that we saw its fixed -eyes, large and liquid, in the light of the moon. And suddenly Bobby -ejaculated, from the depths of his heart, "Oh--_oh_--if _only_ I'd got -my gun!" - -We took no notice--never heeded the warning given us--but only laughed -to hear the little chap talking of his gun as if he were an old -sportsman. It was a small single barrel, presented to him on his going -to the country by his godfather, Captain Briggs (much to my dismay at -the time, and the natural chagrin of the elder brother, who should have -been the first to possess one), and Tom had given the child but two -lessons in the use of it--shooting bottles from the top of the paddock -fence. - -Being without a gun, the boys flung aloft such missiles as came to hand, -and, when a stick of wood touched the branch it sat on, the 'possum ran -along it to a place where it was lost in leaves. Then we bethought -ourselves of the late hour, called off Waif, and went home to bed--to -bed, and to sleep as tranquil and unforeboding as the sleep of other -nights. - -The next day was exceptionally full of business. Recreation was not -thought of. It was nine o'clock when we left off work--Tom and I. - -Lily was long in bed, but the other children had no proper hour for -retiring at this unsettled time. I went to the sitting-room to look for -them, and found only Phyllis there. The lamp was not lit, nor the blinds -drawn. I noticed that the moon was up, and by its light saw her crouched -at one of the windows, pressing her face against the glass. I asked her -what she was doing there, and she did not hear me; on my repeating the -question, she sprang up with such a start of fright that I at once -divined mischief somewhere. - -"Where is Harry?" I cried sharply. Somehow it was always Harry, my -handsome first-born, that I expected things to happen to. - -Phyllis stammered and shuffled, and then said that Harry had gone to -look for Bobby. - -"And where is Bobby?" - -She seemed still more reluctant to reply, but suddenly exclaimed, with -an air of joyful relief, "Oh, there he is! There he is! There's Waif--he -can't be far off!" - -She followed me to the verandah, whither I went to meet and reproach my -poor little fellow for having strayed without leave, and there was no -boy visible--only the dear, ugly, faithful dog for whose sake all dogs -are beloved and sacred for ever and ever. Waif ran to my feet, pawed -them and my skirts, squirmed and jumped, yelped and whined, all the time -looking up at me with eyes that were full of desire and -supplication--trying to tell me something that at first I could not -understand. I took a few steps into the garden, and he scampered down a -pathway to the gate; seeing I did not follow so far, he ran back, seized -a bit of my frock in his teeth, and tried to drag me with him. - -"What does he want?" I called to Tom, as he sauntered towards me, pipe -in mouth. "Tom, Tom, _what_ does it mean?" - -"Where's Bob?" was his instant question. - -"Harry has gone after him--Harry is with him--Harry will bring him -home," piped Phyllis, trembling like a leaf. Then she burst into tears. -"Oh, mother--oh, father--I heard the gun such a long, long time ago!" - -The gun! Who would have dreamed of _that?_--locked up in a wardrobe, as -we supposed, and forbidden to be so much as looked at except under -parental supervision. At the word our hearts jumped, and seemed to stop -beating. - -"He wanted to shoot the oppossum and cure the skin for a present to you -on your birthday, mother. And he wanted it to be a secret--for a -surprise to you." - -Waif whined and ran, and we ran after him--Tom in silence, I wailing -under my breath, already in despair and heart broken. I can see the -devoted creature now, pattering steadily over the moonlit paddocks -towards the creek and the trees, stopping every now and then to make -sure that we were coming; and see him tracking through the scrub with -his nose to the ground, and hear his little uneasy whimper when for a -moment he could not perceive us. - -Once we stopped at the sound of a distant whistle, and I shrieked with -joy. - -"No," said Tom gently. "That's Harry calling him." - -And we came to the place where we had seen the oppossum the night -before. The moonbeams trickled through the branches from which it had -looked down upon our happy, united family, and just where we had stood -together there was a dark something on the ground. Waif ran up to it and -licked it---- - - * * * * * - -I can't write any more. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING. - - -It was years, literally, before I got over it. Indeed, I have never got -over it--never shall, while I have any power to remember things. -Death--we all know, more or less, what it means to the living whom it -has robbed. To lose a child--the mothers know, at any rate! It is no use -talking about it. Besides, there are no words to talk with that can -possibly explain. - -I often hear the remark that my husband has the most patient temper in -the world, and I realise its truth when I think of that dreadful -time--how I must have wearied and discouraged him, and how he never once -reproached me for it, even by a glum look. He knew I could not help it. -For one thing, I was ill--physically ill, with the doctor coming to see -me. He ordered me tonics, stimulants, a complete change of scene, and so -on, but no doctor's prescriptions were any good for my complaint. -Winding a watch with a broken mainspring won't make it go. Tonics gave -me headaches--tonics accompanied by constant tears and -sleeplessness--and, hideous as the house was, with an empty place -staring at me from every point to which I could turn my eyes, I knew it -would be worse elsewhere. I clung to my own bed, my own privacy, my home -where I could do as I liked and shut out the foolish would-be -sympathisers and their futile condolences; and I could not bear to leave -the other children. Once you have lost a child, you never again feel any -confidence that the rest are safe; you seem to _know_ they are going to -die if they but catch a cold or scratch a finger, and that they will -have no chance at all if you let them out of your sight. Besides, there -were things to see to--the poultry, for instance, which was under my -charge--if only I could have seen to them! I tried, but sorrow made me -stupid; and when the incubator was found stone-cold, and again -overheated, and on one occasion burnt to ashes with dozens of poor -chicks inside, and when dozens more were drowned in a storm for want of -timely shelter--all fine, thriving birds, when, you couldn't get a -decent turkey in Melbourne for under a pound--I suppose it was my fault. -But Tom always said, "Never mind--don't you worry yourself, Polly," and -his first thought was to get me a glass of wine. He was like an old -nurse in the way he cosseted and coddled me. When I was more ill than -usual, he thought nothing of sitting up all night by my bedside, and -making little messes for me in the kitchen with his own hands. He never -even said, as I have heard men say at the first starting of tears--not -after they have been flowing, like mine, for weeks and weeks--"Why don't -you make an effort to control yourself? You know perfectly well that -crying only makes you worse and does nobody any good"--as if a poor -mother cried from choice and perversity and the pleasure of doing it, -when her heart was broken! He knew my heart was broken. He understood. -No one else understood. They all thought I could control myself if I -liked. Some of them said so, and told one another, I am sure, though I -did not hear them, that it was the calm and composed ones who felt the -most. That is the theory of books and cold-hearted people; I don't -believe in it for a moment. Whenever I see a woman bearing up, as they -call it, without showing ravages in some way or other, I know what -supports her--not more courage, but a harder nature than mine. A man is -different. Tom mourned for our little son with all his heart, though he -did not show it; and he did not show it because he is so unselfish. He -thought of me before himself, and would not add a straw to my burden. -Never was a tenderer husband in this world! I believe those women -thought him foolish and weak-minded to indulge me as he did, but that -was envy, naturally; they did not know, poor things, what it was to have -such a staff to lean on. - -However, one day, when I was showing him how thin I had grown, taking up -handfuls of "slack" in a bodice that had been once tight for me, he -began to look--not impatient or aggrieved, but determined--as he used to -look on board ship when the law was in his own hands. - -"Polly," he said, "this has gone on long enough. I'm not going to stand -by and see you die by inches before my eyes. Something must be done. I -shall take you to sea." - -"To sea!" I exclaimed. "We can't leave the children. We can't leave the -farm. We can't afford----" - -"I don't care," he broke in. "I'm not going to lose you, if I can help -it, for anybody or anything. You're just ready to fall into a rapid -decline, or to catch some fatal epidemic or other, and I can't have it, -Polly; it must be put a stop to before it is too late. The sea's the -thing. The sea's what you want. Come to that, it's what I want myself; -I've got quite flabby from being away from it so long. It would brace us -up, both of us, and nothing else will. You pack a few clothes, pet, and -I'll go into Melbourne and look up a nice boat. Don't you bother your -head about the farm or the children or anything--I'll see that they're -left all safe." - -He was so firm about it that I had to give in. The sea, of course, was -not like any other change of air and change of scene--it did seem to -promise refreshment and renovation, peace even greater than that of my -home, where I still suffered from the mistaken kindness of neighbours -coming to expostulate with and to cheer me. Besides, when Tom said he -had got flabby for want of it, I noticed that he was not looking well. -There could be no doubt about the proposed trip being beneficial to -him--I must have urged him to take it for his own health's sake--and I -could not be left without him. So I mustered a little energy to begin -preparations while he went to town; for though I had begged for time to -think the matter over, he would not hear of delay. I never knew him so -resolute, even with a crew. - -At night he brought back a brighter face than had been seen in our house -for many a long day. I was sitting up for him, and even I had stirrings -in my heavy heart of a reviving interest in life. All day I had been -thinking of our old voyage in the Racer--remembering the beautiful parts -of it, forgetting all the rest. - -"Well, Polly," said he; "did you wonder what was keeping me so late? The -old man"--he meant the head of his old firm--"insisted on my dining with -him, and I couldn't well refuse. Talked about everything as frank and -free as if I'd been his brother--all the business of the old shop--and -said they'd give a hundred pounds to have me back again. By Jove, if it -wasn't for you and the children--no, no, I don't mean that; we're -happiest as we are--or will be when you are well and heartened up a bit. -What do you think, Polly? I'm to take the old Bendigo her next trip. -Watson hasn't had a spell for years, and there's a new baby at his -place; I saw Watson first--he put me up to it--but the old man was -ready to do anything I liked to ask him. 'Certainly,' says he; 'by all -means, and whenever you choose. And bring the missus, of course--only -too proud to have her company on any ship she fancies.' You know he -always thought a deal of you, Polly; I declare he was quite affectionate -in his inquiries after you--never thought he could be so kind and jolly. -I could have got free passages for both of us easy enough, but it's -pleasanter to work for them; and I don't think, somehow, that I could -feel at home in the old Bendigo anywhere but on the bridge." - -"And I should not like to see you anywhere else," I said; "not if we -paid full fares twice over. And how nice not to have to pay, when the -farm is keeping us so short! How nice an arrangement altogether! I can -be upstairs with you--the old man would wish me to do whatever I -liked--and have more liberty than would be possible if another was in -command, and so can you. It's a charming plan! And the Bendigo, -too--our own old Bendigo! Oh, Tom, do you remember _that night!_" - -It was some years since he had left the boat on board of which he had -been introduced to his eldest son; but whenever we recalled the time -that he was captain of her our first thoughts pictured the moonlit -bridge and the baby; at any rate mine did. And in my terribly deepened -sense of the significance of motherhood nothing could have suited me -better than to go back to the dear place where my mother-life began, for -it did not properly begin until Tom shared it with me. I would sooner -have chosen the Bendigo to have a trip in--if I had the choice--than the -finest yacht or liner going. - -So we went to bed almost happy. And two days later, having been quite -brisk in the interval, safeguarding our home and children as completely -as it could be done, we walked down the familiar wharf, amongst the -bales and cases, to where the steamer lay, feeling exhilarated by the -thought of our coming holiday, as if old times were back again. It was -on the verge of winter now and an exquisite afternoon. Even the filthy -Yarra looked silky and shimmering in the mild sunlight, tinted rose and -mauve by the city smoke; and the vile smells were kept down by the clean -sharpness of the air, so that I did not notice them. We were to sail at -five, but went on board early so that Tom could gather the reins into -his hand and have all shipshape before passengers arrived. - -How pleasant it was to see the way they welcomed him! Mr. Jones was -first officer now (and had babies of his own), and some of the old faces -were amongst the crew. The head steward was the same, and the head -engineer, and the black cook who made pastry so well; and they all -smiled from ear to ear at the sight of their old master, making it quite -evident to me that they had found poor Watson, as they would have found -any one else, an indifferent substitute for him. Above all, there was -the "old man," as he was irreverently styled--the important chief -owner--in person, down on purpose to receive me, with a bouquet for me -in his hand. Dear, kind old man! He was something like Captain Saunders -in his extreme admiration and respect for "pretty Mrs. Braye," as I was -told they called me, and nothing could have been friendlier than his few -words of sympathy for my trouble and his real anxiety to make me -comfortable on board. One might have imagined I was an owner myself by -the fuss they all made over me. It always gratified me--on Tom's -account--that I was never put on a level with the other captains' wives. - -I had the deck cabin again, and we went there for afternoon tea. The -steward brought cakes and tarts and all sorts of unusual things, to do -honour to the special occasion; and I put my flowers in water, wearing a -few of them, and it was all very nice and cheerful. I felt better -already, although we had not stirred from the wharf, and although a New -Zealand boat close by us was turning in the stream, stirring up the dead -cats and things with her propeller, and making a stench so powerful that -it was like pepper to the nose. - -Then, as five o'clock drew near, the "old man" went to look after -business about the ship, and Tom to put on his uniform. How splendid he -looked in it! Almost the only regret I had for his leaving the sea was -that he could no longer wear the clothes which so well became him. Talk -about the fascination of a red coat! I never could see anything in it. -But a sailor in his peaked cap and brass buttons is the finest figure in -the world. - -I was just going to meet him and tell him how nice he looked, when one -of the lady passengers who had been coming on board, and whom I had been -manoeuvring to avoid, cut across my bows, so to speak, and rushed at him -like a whirlwind. I really thought the woman was going to throw her arms -round his neck. - -"Oh, Captain Braye!" she exclaimed loudly, "how too, too charming to see -you here again. Have you come back to the Bendigo for good? Oh, how I -hope you have! Do you know, I was going to Sydney by the mail, and was -actually on my way to the P.&O. office, when somebody told me you were -taking Captain Watson's place. I said at once, 'Then no mail steamers -for me, thank you. No other captain for me if I can get Captain Braye.' -And so here I am. I managed to get packed up in a day and a half." - -I could see that Tom looked quite confused. We had both hoped so much -that the people would all be strangers who would leave us alone, and he -guessed the annoyance I should feel at the threatened curtailment of our -independence by this forward person. But there was no need for him to -inveigle her out of earshot, and there stand and talk to her for ever so -long, as if there were secrets between them not for me to overhear. I -know what she wanted--I heard her ask for it--whether she could have the -deck cabin as before! A very few seconds should have sufficed to answer -_that_ question. She was a stylish person in her way, and her clothes -were good, and the servants paid court to her; I asked one of them who -she was, and he said the "lady" of a merchant of some standing in -Melbourne--just the class of passenger we were most anxious to be -without. When their confabulation was at an end Tom brought her to the -bench where I was sitting and introduced her to me. - -"My wife, Mrs. Harris--Mrs. Harris, dear--who has sailed with me -before." - -"Often," said Mrs. Harris, extending a bejewelled hand. "We are very old -friends, the captain and I." - -"Indeed?" I said, bowing. He had never mentioned her name to me. But, as -he explained when I told him so, he couldn't be expected to remember the -names of the thousands of strangers he carried in the course of the -year. I reminded him that she considered herself not a stranger, but a -friend; and he said, with a laugh, "Oh, they all do that." - -I confess I did not take to Mrs. Harris. I should not have liked any one -coming in our way as she did, when we wanted to be free and peaceful, -but she was particularly repugnant to me. She gushed too much; she -talked too familiarly of Tom--to me also, not discriminating between -one captain's wife and another; and she accosted the servants and -officers as they passed quite as if the ship belonged to her. However, I -stood it as long as she chose to sit there, making herself pleasant, as -she doubtless supposed. As soon as it occurred to her to go and look at -her cabin I seized my hood and cloak, and went to seek sanctuary on the -bridge with Tom. It was nearly six o'clock, and he was just casting off. - -"Oh, Polly," he said, turning to me with a slightly worried air, "you -wouldn't mind staying on deck till we get down the river a bit, would -you, pet? It don't look professional, you know, for ladies to show up -here. And Mrs. Harris might----" - -I interrupted him in what he was going to say, because anything to do -with Mrs. Harris had nothing whatever to do with the case. - -"Passengers," said I, "are one thing--the captain's wife is -another--_quite_ another--and especially when the old man has asked me, -as a sort of favour to himself, to make myself at home, as he calls it. -Is he on the wharf, by the way? I should like to wave a hand to him. It -would please him awfully. Thank Heaven, we are not subject to Mrs. -Harris, nor to anybody else, on board this, ship. That's the beauty of -it." - -"I feel in a sense subject to Watson," said Tom, "and he's a punctilious -sort of chap. I don't care to seem to make too free with his -command--for it's his, not mine. And there are heaps of people about -besides the old man. You really would oblige me very much, Polly----" - -"Oh, of course, dear!" - -I saw his point of view, and at once effaced myself. I went into the -little bridge house, just behind the wheel--he was satisfied with -that--where I could see him close to me through the bow window, and -speak to him when I chose. He lit the candle lamp at the head of the -bunk, so that I could lie there and read; but I did not want to read. I -preferred to stand by the window, which held all there was of table--the -top of drawers and lockers--on which I spread my arms, propping my face -in hollowed palms, and to look out upon the river with the sunset upon -it, and the fading daylight, and the starry lights ashore. To call that -city-skirting stream romantic is to provoke the derision of those who -know it best, but it _was_ romantic that night--to me. Anything can be -romantic under certain circumstances, in certain states of atmosphere -and mind. - -We were alone together. The dinner-bell rang downstairs, but Tom never -left the bridge till he was out of the river, and I did not need to ask -him to let me share his meal. The steward brought us up a tray, and we -stood in the warm little cabin--the table was not made to sit at--and -ate roast chicken and apple pie, like travellers at a railway buffet, -Tom stepping out and back between hasty mouthfuls to see that all was -right. He was intensely business-like, and as happy as a boy at his old -work. We both had the young feeling that comes to holiday-makers who -don't have a holiday very often. I could not help it. - -Then--when we steamed out between the river lights into the bay--how we -sniffed the first breath of the salt sea! And what memories it brought -to us!--to me, at least, who had been so long away from it. The -passengers were at dinner still, and it was falling dark, and there were -no spectators save the man at the wheel, who was nothing but a voice, an -echo of the quiet word of command, most pleasant to hear; I was free to -roam the bridge from end to end, hanging to my husband's supporting -arm--to bathe myself in air that was literally new life to both of us. -Cold and clean and briny to the lips--oh, what is there to equal it in -the way of medicine for soul and body? What sort of insensate creatures -can they be who do not love the sea? - -Hobson's Bay was ruffled with a south wind--belted round with twinkling -lights that grew thicker and brighter every moment, a gleaming ring of -stars set in the otherwise invisible shores, in a dusk as soft as -velvet. Somewhere amongst them, doubtless, was the lighted window that -had once been mine, where I used to stand half a dozen lamps and candles -in a bunch, to show Tom that I was watching for him when he used to pass -out after nightfall. Our eyes turned in that direction simultaneously. - -"When we are old folks, Polly," said he, with an arm round my shoulder, -"when the kids are all grown up and out in the world, and you and I -settle down alone again, as we did at the beginning, I should like us to -have a little place somewhere where we could see blue water and the -ships going by." - -"Yes," I said at once, feeling exactly as he did--that though the farm -and our country home were well enough under present circumstances, they -would not be our choice when we had only ourselves to think of--that the -sea was the sea, in short, and had reclaimed our allegiance--"yes, that -is what we will do. We will end our married life where we began it--with -this beautiful sound in our ears!" - -We had turned the breakwater at Williamstown, and were meeting the wind -and tide of the outer bay, which was a little ocean this fresh night. -The sharp bows of the Bendigo, and her threshing screw astern, made that -noise of racing waves and running foam which was thrilling me like music -and champagne together, so that I had no words to describe the -sensation. My hair was blown hard back from my forehead and out of the -control of hairpins; my face felt as if smacked by an open hand, and I -had to screw up my eyes and pinch my lips together to stand the blow; I -felt the keen blast pierce to my skin through all the invalid wrappings -that I was swathed in--and it was lovely! Tom thought I should catch -cold, but I knew better, though I was glad to be tied into his 'possum -rug, with an oilskin overall to take the flying spray; and I insisted on -staying out with him till nearly midnight--till we had passed the -furious Rip and were battling with the real swell of the real ocean, -which tossed the steamer like a cork without making me seasick. It was -squally and galey and dark as a wolf's mouth--neither moon nor -stars--only the lighthouse lights which were all we needed, and the -white streaks in the black sea which were the long rollers coming to -meet us. And I felt as safe as--there is nothing that can give a notion -of how safe I felt. My husband took care of me as he used to do on the -Racer, only fifty thousand times more carefully, because he was my -husband. Ah, how sweet it was! With all our sorrows, how happy we were! -And might have remained so if we had not been interfered with. - -But that wretched woman spoiled it all. I had forgotten her altogether -during the evening, when dinner and darkness and the rough weather kept -her from us; I forgot her in the night, which I spent in my deck cabin -so as to leave Tom his bunk on the bridge for such snatches of sleep as -he had a mind for; the deck as well as the cabin was my own--his and -mine, for he still came down at intervals to look at me through the open -door and assure himself that I was all right--and the common herd were -under it. But when I emerged in the morning, just as the breakfast-bell -was ringing, the first thing I saw was Mrs. Harris coming down the -stairs which had "no admittance" plainly affixed to them, and Tom in -attendance on her as if she were the Queen. She descended backwards, -feeling each step with her glittering pointed shoe, slower than any -tortoise, and he guided her with one hand and held her skirts down with -the other, out of the wind. It was a windy morning, but sunshiny and -beautiful, and I had intended to enjoy my first meal in the air and in -privacy with my husband, as I had done the last. - -I suppose I looked my surprise, for they both seemed to colour up when -they perceived me standing and watching them. In one breath they bade me -a loud good morning, and made unnecessary announcements about the -weather. - -"You have been on the bridge?" I questioned, with my eyes fixed on the -brass plate which proclaimed the bridge sacred. - -"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Harris gaily. "It's the nicest place I know to be -on, especially at this time of day. Many an early visit have I paid the -captain up there, haven't I, Captain?" - -I lifted eyebrows at Tom, but he would not look. - -"Got an appetite for breakfast, Polly?" he shouted, taking my arm. "Come -along, and let's see if you don't do your doctor credit." - -"I am not going to the saloon," I returned quietly, disengaging myself; -"I am going to have my breakfast on the bridge with you." - -"But I'm not going to breakfast there. I'm off duty, and we may as well -be comfortable when we can." - -Then he congratulated us both on being such good sailors as to be able -to go to breakfast the first morning, and, not to make a fuss, I let him -take me down into the saloon, and seat me at the public table by his -side, _vis-a-vis_ with Mrs. Harris. He spoke to other passengers, -shaking hands with some, and introducing me to one or two. A rather -nice man talked to me throughout the meal, while Mrs. Harris monopolised -Tom entirely. - -This was not what I had come to sea for, and so, as soon as I had -finished, I slipped away, ran up to the bridge, got out a little chair, -and prepared for a quiet morning with my husband, where no one had the -right to disturb us. In fact, I was fully resolved to defend that -bridge, if need were, against unauthorized intruders. Mrs. Harris might -have done what she liked with it and him in those old times that she was -for ever flinging in my face. She would not do it now. - -Scarcely had I opened my workbag and threaded my needle when up she came -as bold as brass, with a yellow-back under her arm. It was too much. I -felt that, if I were to make any stand at all, it must be now or never, -or I should be altogether trodden under foot. So I looked at her with an -air of calm inquiry, and said, "Oh! Mrs. Harris--do you want anything?" - -"No, thanks," she replied in an off-hand tone. "The steward is bringing -up my chair." - -"Bringing it _up?--here?_" - -"Certainly. Why not?" - -"Only that--perhaps you don't know--nobody is allowed on the bridge. The -notice is stuck up against the stairs." - -"Then why are you here?" she retorted, bristling. - -"I am the captain's wife." - -"I presume the captain's wife is as much a passenger as the rest of us," -she argued, with an offensive laugh. "I presume the captain can do what -he likes with his own bridge, at any rate. If _he_ gives one the freedom -of the city, one certainly has it, beyond question; and I have always -been accustomed to sit here when travelling with him. Thank you, -steward--in this corner, please." - -She took possession of her chair. - -"If one person has the freedom of the city," I said, trying to keep my -voice from shaking, "all should have it. He has no business to make -distinctions where all are equal." - -"All are not equal," she cried, reddening. And I remembered that she was -a considerable person in her own eyes. But I said firmly, "Pardon me. -All who pay the same fares are on the same footing--or should be. And -there is not room here for everybody." - -"The captain," said she, "can entertain his friends as he chooses, and I -am one of his oldest friends, besides being related to his owners. And -as for his having no business to do this or that--oh, my dear Mrs. -Braye, do allow the poor man to know his own business best--I assure you -he knows it perfectly, nobody better--and let him be master, at any -rate, on his ship, whatever he may be in his home." - -She laughed again, as she settled herself and opened her book. I was -simply speechless with indignation. But, even had I been able to speak, -I was not one to bandy words with that sort of person. I just rolled up -my work, quietly rose, and went downstairs to my cabin on deck. - -"Why do you go away?" she asked, as I passed her. "Isn't the bridge big -enough for us both?" - -"No," I replied. And that was my last word to her. - -Going down the stairs, I met Tom coming up. He said, "Hullo, Polly, -where are you off to?" I looked at him steadily--that's all. And his -face clouded over. He passed on, leaving me alone. - -But they were not long together. Five minutes later I heard her voice -suddenly through the open port of my cabin--that horrible deck cabin, -where I was surrounded and pressed upon by talking, boot-clumping -passengers, who just could not spy in upon me because I had door shut -and window curtain down. Doubtless she did it on purpose. She must have -known where I was, seeing that I was not on the bridge or sitting out on -deck. She was speaking to some man of her acquaintance. - -"It is always a mistake," she said, "for captains to have their wives on -board. I wonder the owners allow it. It spoils the comfort of the other -passengers--who, after all, are the chief persons to be considered--and -demoralises the poor fellows to such an extent that they are not like -the same men. Look at Captain Braye, whom I've known for ages--the -dearest old boy you can imagine when he's let alone--it's pitiful to see -him henpecked and cowed, and afraid to call his soul his own, shaking in -his very shoes before that vixen of a woman!" Her companion said -something that I could not hear--I believe it was my pleasant neighbour -at breakfast whom she was trying to set against me--and then she put on -the crowning touch. "It is always the fate of those exceptionally nice -men," said she, "to marry women who don't know how to appreciate them." - -I wondered for a moment if I could have heard aright. It was hard to -believe in such consummate insolence--such a wild, malignant, perversion -of facts. To talk of _Tom_ as a henpecked husband! To dub _me_, of all -people in the world, a vixen!! To say that I--_I_--did not appreciate -him!!! The thing was too utterly ludicrous to be taken seriously, and -yet it made me so angry that I could hardly contain myself. It made me -feel that it would have been a pleasure to rush out upon her and tear -her hair from her head, just like the real vixens do. I felt that my -husband, who was also the commander of the ship, ought to have spared me -this gross indignity, which could not have occurred if he had respected -his position, and kept himself to himself. - -Knowing that she was not with him now, I went back to the bridge. But -alas and alas! The bridge, that had been a little paradise, was a place -despoiled. Though the serpent had gone out of it, she had been there and -poisoned everything. Tom was not the same to me. All the pleasure of our -trip was at an end. I had a wretched day, and at night a gale came on, -and I was seasick for the first time. He did not know it, and I would -not send for him. Oh, it was horrible! It was tragical! It was -heart-breaking! I can't talk about it any more. - - * * * * * - -People came to meet her at Sydney, but she could not leave without a -ceremonious good-bye to her dear captain. She was calling for him -everywhere while he was busy making fast, and when she got him she shook -hands two or three times over, standing apart with him as at first, -regardless of me. Goodness knows I did not want to intrude, yet it was -impossible to help noticing the fuss she made. I heard her say--I am -quite _sure_ I heard her--that she was coming back with us; meaning, of -course, with him. She explained that she had but a day's business to do -in Sydney, and would then be able to return by the "dear old Bendigo"--I -distinctly caught those three words, in her high-pitched voice. And I -thought to myself that this would really be more than I could -stand--more than I could in reason be expected to stand. In fact, I was -so enraged that I was strongly tempted to put it to my husband that he -must make his choice between her and me. However, on second thoughts, I -perceived that it would be more dignified to say nothing, but to let my -acts speak for me. We had never been accustomed to bicker between -ourselves, he and I, and to a certain extent he was not responsible for -the situation. Any one not suffering from madness or an infectious -disease had the right to travel in the ship; he could not help it. But -if he could not turn the otherwise objectionable person off, he could -keep him or her in the passengers' proper place. My grievance with him -was that he did not keep that woman in her place. - -Being quite determined not to have another voyage with her, and not -wishing to say nasty things to him about it, I was glad when an old -acquaintance, paying us a call on board, asked me to stay awhile with -her, for the further benefit of my health, representing that the time -covered by the sea trip was all too short to recruit in. - -"Thank you very much," I answered, on the spur of the moment. "I really -think I will. I was never in Sydney but once, and then I had no chance -to see the beauties of the place, of which I have heard so much; and I -daresay it would do me good to have a longer change." - -I was aware of Tom's utter, silent astonishment, but I would not look at -him; I left him to read the riddle for himself. When he spoke it was to -quietly fall in with the proposal, adding suggestions that would have -made it difficult for me to draw back if I had wanted to do so. He was -so ready to leave me, indeed, that I fancied he _wanted_ to get rid of -me--of course he did not, but any one would have thought so--and -naturally that made me bitter. I spoke but little to him afterwards, and -he was certainly cold to me---he seemed to divine my suspicions and to -resent them--and I did not go to see him off; I could not. In short, our -holiday was entirely and irreparably ruined. - -I believe I cried nearly the whole time that I was in Sydney. It did -seem hard, in my state of health and under the sad circumstances, to be -stranded amongst strangers, who did not understand my sorrows, nor my -habits of life, and gave me none of the little pettings and coddlings -that I needed and was accustomed to; and the thought of that woman going -home with Tom, having the deck cabin, sitting on the bridge with him of -nights, making free with the whole ship, usurping my place and -privileges, drove me simply frantic--until one day I met her in the -street, and found she had not gone with him after all. - -Shaken all to pieces with the awful overland journey, more dead than -alive, I reached home a day or two after him, and discovered him calmly -digging the garden, as if he had forgotten my very existence. When he -saw me he smiled in an odd, constrained way, and said, as though it -didn't matter one way or the other: "Well, Polly? Had about enough of -it?" - -Angry as I was with him, I could not maintain any dignity at all--I was -too spent and weary. I broke down completely, and he took me into the -tool-shed to comfort me--took me into his arms, where I had simply ached -to be ever since I had left them, driven out by that detestable little -scheming, mischief-making snake-in-the-grass. - -"Oh," I sobbed, when I could find words and strength to utter them, "how -_could_ you leave me behind? How _could_ you abandon me like that, when -I was so ill and unhappy?" - -"Because," said he, "you wanted to be left. You distinctly asked and -were determined to be left. As for abandoning--it's I that was -abandoned, it seems to me." - -"You _knew_ I did not want to be left," I urged--for of course he knew. -"You must have seen that I only did it because I was vexed." - -"And what were you vexed about?" he inquired. "I must be too dense and -stupid for anything, but I'll be shot if I can understand you this time, -Polly." - -I told him that he was dense and stupid indeed, or he would not need to -ask the question. But when I told him, further, what it was that had -vexed me, he said that in some ways, when it came to denseness and -stupidity, he was not a patch on me. - -Of course it was not his fault in the very least. It was all hers. - - * * * * * - -P.S.--I have forgiven her now. Poor thing, it was only a manner with -her; she meant no harm. I did not see it then--no one could have seen -it, and I do not blame myself for being imposed on by appearances that -would have deceived a very angel, which I confess I am not, though the -least suspicious and uncharitable of women--but I became convinced of it -afterwards. - -It was when my Harry was made _dux_ of his school, a year later than he -would have been but for the favouritism of a master, who deliberately -miscalculated examination marks. Harry, by the way, will not allow that -this was the case, but that is his modesty and his feeling for the -honour of the school; he does not know as much about it as I do. I was -told on the best authority that he ought to have had the position, being -far and away (as I well knew) the cleverest boy, and that a certain -master had a "set" or "down" on him because he had caricatured the -wretch on the blackboard. It was another sixth-form fellow who said he -felt sure the figures must be wrong when he heard the result. - -However, there was no mistake about it this time. I, at any rate, was -sure of it, when I dressed for the Speech Day function, although the -names in the prize list were supposed to be unknown beforehand. Besides, -I had only to look at his face, calmly elated, the eyes twinkling with -suppressed excitement, to see that he had the secret--to be assured that -his merits were to meet their just reward at last. But there were some -mothers who allowed their mother's partiality to run away with them. I -heard of two who, up to the last moment, fully expected _their_ sons to -come out top. And Mrs. Harris was one of these. - -There was some justification for hope on her part, because young Harris -was really a very industrious, plodding fellow, and had always given a -good account of himself. He had not half Harry's brains, of course, but -he had great application and perseverance, and the moral of the hare -and tortoise fable is often exemplified in these cases. Especially when -the hare is such an all-round genius as my boy, a prize-taker for -goal-kicking, the mile handicap and the long jump, as well as for work -in class. Several times I had heard Harry say, with quite a serious air, -that the only one he was afraid of was Harris, and they stuck very close -together through the examinations, as far as the figures were known. So -when she crushed into the seat in front of me, gorgeously dressed and -beaming, nodding to right and left, I saw how it was. She was prepared -for any amount of envious notice and congratulation, quite thinking she -was going to outshine me. I smiled--I could not help it. But I was glad -afterwards that she had not seen me smile. - -I was also glad that Tom had not been able to accompany us this time, -though grieved for the cause--an accident to his foot while -tree-chopping. Our proximity to the maker of so much trouble in the -past, as to which we were still sore and reticent, might have rendered -the situation uncomfortable and altered its development altogether. -Harry had escorted me and his eldest sister--she a perfect dream, though -I say it, in pink cambric and a white muslin hat--and had now left us to -go and sit with his comrades at the back of the hall, whence a deafening -noise arose continuously, most exhilarating to hear. Dear lads! I -screwed my head round to look and laugh at their delightful antics, and -the figure of my fine boy leading all the revelry, until Phyllis's face -showed her sense of the indecorum of the proceeding. Children are so -dreadfully proper where their parents are concerned, and I am always -forgetting that I have to sit up and look dignified if I would have -their approval and respect. - -When the hall was crowded so that not another creature could squeeze -into it, a fresh demonstration heralded the entrance of the headmaster, -hooded and gowned, escorting the distinguished visitors, chief of whom -was the Exalted Personage who had consented to distribute the prizes. -They packed the dais, round the book-piled table; the boys yelled and -thumped the floor with their boot-heels, sung a Latin hymn with all -their might, subsided with difficulty, and allowed the formal -proceedings to begin. I sat in a perfect simmer of joyous excitement and -expectation, fully equal to theirs, and I noticed that Mrs. Harris's -face was flushed and that she kept smiling to herself in a vague way, -restless and fidgety. Poor thing! Her boy was an only son, like mine, -and she was one of those many love-blind mothers who mistake their geese -for swans. I saw quite plainly that she had no suspicion of the truth, -and was sorry for her. Some one ought to have given her a hint. - -The headmaster read his annual report--every paragraph punctuated with -vociferous cheers from the back benches--and the Exalted Personage made -a speech, unnecessarily diffuse. Then there was a shuffling and -whispering and readjustment of the blocks of books on the table, the -E.P. advanced to the front of the dais, the H.M. lined up beside him -with his list, and after a few little preliminaries (the awarding of a -couple of scholarships) the great moment arrived. Although I had known -so certainly what would happen, when it did happen I literally jumped -from my seat. - -"_Dux_ of School--_Henry Thomas Beauchamp Braye._" - -My heart seemed to leap into my throat, I clasped my hands, I suppose I -made some exclamation unconsciously, for Phyllis plucked at my sleeve -and whispered "Hush-sh!" quite fiercely. The child was not grown-up -then, but still thought herself competent to teach me how to behave in -public. She sat herself like any stock or stone, an image of propriety, -as if it was a matter of no concern to her at all that her brother was -set on the highest pinnacle of honour that a schoolboy could reach. - -He came striding up the hall like a young prince, with none of that shy -awkwardness which made the other boys look so clumsy, and his mates -cheered him to the echo as he mounted the platform to receive his load -of prize-books and the congratulations of all the great folks. I never -saw anything prettier than his quiet bows, his modest and yet dignified -bearing, and his kind way with the fellows who crowded up to shake hands -with him when he came down amongst them again, helping him to carry his -trophies and making a regular royal progress of his return to his seat. -I noticed young Harris amongst the first of these, and thought to myself -that a defeated rival who could behave so nicely to the successful one -must have the essential spirit of a gentleman in him. And I found it was -so when I came to know him. - -A little later, when the lesser prizes were being disposed of, and the -interest of the proceedings was not so all-absorbing--as I just sat in -placid ecstasy, thinking of nothing but my own happiness--a movement in -front of me brought his poor mother to my mind. She had ceased to -fidget, and I had forgotten to notice her. Now she rose slowly, in a -fumbling sort of way, remarking to a lady near her that the heat of the -hall was insufferable and was making her faint. It was very hot, and -she looked faint, with all the colour gone from her cheeks and her lips -twitching and trembling; but, oh, _I_ knew what the trouble was! Poor, -stricken soul! She felt just as I should have felt had I been in her -place--just as I had felt a year ago when told that that pig-faced -Middleton boy had ousted Harry--and my heart bled for her. Of course she -pretended not to see me as she passed out--I should have done the same -had our positions been reversed--and must have almost wanted to murder -me, indeed; but--well, mothers have a fellow-feeling at these times, -under all the feelings common to humanity at large. I could not resist -the impulse that came to me. She had no sooner disappeared through the -nearest door, seeking the fresh air for her faintness, than I, defiant -of my daughter's dumb protests, got up and went out after her. - -She was leaning against the grey wall, holding her handkerchief to her -eyes. When she heard me she turned and glared, like a strange cat that -you have penned into a corner. The next moment we were in each other's -arms, and she was sobbing on my neck with the abandonment of a child. - -And we have been the greatest friends ever since. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -DEPOSED. - - -The little sound that is as common as silence--a familiar step, a -murmured word, an opening door--one hears it a thousand times with -contented indifference, as one hears the singing of the tea-kettle. But -one day it falls on the heart as well as on the ear, like the stroke of -a swift sword. It seems exactly the same, but one knows at once that it -is not the same. In the twentieth part of a second one recognises the -voice of a dire calamity--especially if one is a mother, and has heard -it before. - -Tom came into the house by way of the kitchen, and I heard him say to -Jane, in quite a quiet tone, "Where's Mrs. Braye?" That was all. I -sprang from my chair, wild with terror, dropping my needlework to the -floor. For I knew--I knew--I didn't want to be told--that something had -happened to Harry. My boy! my boy! I had been scolding him, only an hour -ago, for making love to Lily's governess--a minx, whom I had just -requested to find another situation--and he had slammed the door almost -in my face on leaving me. I had been longing for Tom to come in, that I -might tell him all about it, and have a little cry on his shoulder, and -my dignity and authority in the house supported; but now that he was -here my tongue was paralysed. And I had no grievance, but an -immeasurable remorse. - -"Don't be frightened," said my husband, trembling, in a would-be -off-hand voice, "it's nothing very serious--just a bad shaking--I told -him that new mare of his wasn't to be trusted, and there was a nasty -stone just where she threw him. He's stunned a bit, that's all--no bones -broken. I have sent for the doctor. Now look here, Polly----" - -He opened his arms across the doorway, but I broke through them -furiously. Did he remember the night when little Bobby shot himself, -trying to get an opossum skin for his mother's birthday? I was not kept -back then. We ran together, hand in hand, to meet our common woe, and I -was first at the spot, and it was on my breast that he lay to breathe -his last. Why not now, when a worse thing had befallen me? No, I don't -mean that; nothing could be worse--except that every year your child is -with you adds innumerable fresh strands to the rope of woven -heart-strings already binding you to him, and thus makes more to bleed -and ache when the wrench comes. And Harry was -twenty-three--twenty-three, and over six feet, and the handsomest young -fellow in the whole country! I flew full speed to find him, and see what -they were doing to him. It was my mother's right, which a dozen fathers -should not deprive me of. - -At the garden gate I met the procession coming in. They carried him -carefully on a mattress, over saplings roped together. A little rabble -of people followed, one of them leading the fiend that had done the -mischief, a vicious, half-broken, buck-jumping brute that had worried us -for a long time, although Harry always trusted his own fine horsemanship -to get the better of her tantrums. And rightly, too. If he had not been -in a bad temper, poor darling, and doubtless running risks for the -perverse satisfaction of doing so, because of the mood he was in, -nothing in the shape of a horse could have thrown him. He was -notoriously the best rider of the day--at any rate, of our -neighbourhood. - -I slammed the gate to shut out everybody, and the bearers lowered his -litter, and I bent over him. He did not know me. When I leaned down to -listen if he breathed, I saw a little bubble of blood oozing from his -mouth; then I knew that he was more than stunned--that it was worse even -than broken bones. I left off crying, and became quite calm. I had to. - -We were sliding him from the mattress to his bed when Dr. Juke arrived, -and he made us stop and let him do it; for, though my poor lad seemed -unconscious, he panted and grunted in a way that showed we were hurting -him, with all our care. The doctor felt and lifted his limbs, and said -they were all right, and then undressed him as he lay; I got my large -cutting-out scissors, and we hacked his good clothes to pieces--but that -didn't matter--until we left him only his shirt and woollen singlet, and -even those we cut. And just as we were finishing making him comfortable, -as we hoped, he came to and looked at us. My precious boy! His breathing -was short and fluttery, and he seemed too full of pain to speak, except -in gasps. - -"Oh, my side! my side!" - -He wailed like a child--a sound to drive a mother mad. - -Dr. Juke said, "Ah, I thought so." And, having made a little -examination, he reported a fracture of the ribs, with some injury to the -lung. He whispered something to Tom, and then told me I had better send -for a trained nurse, and said it would be as well to get a good surgeon -from town also, so as to be on the safe side. - -I was willing enough to send for a dozen surgeons--though I had perfect -faith in Juke, who was a clever young man, newly out from home and up to -date, an enthusiast in his profession--but I could not bear the thought -of a professional nurse. I knew those women--how they take possession of -your nearest and dearest, and treat even an old mother as if she were a -mere outsider and an utter ignoramus. I protested that I could do all -that was necessary--that no one could possibly take the care of him that -I should. Was it likely? - -"But he will probably want nursing all day and all night for weeks," -said Dr. Juke. "You could not do that unaided. You would break down, and -then where would he be?" - -"I will telegraph for my daughter," I rejoined. Phyllis was away at the -time, visiting. - -"Miss Braye is too young and inexperienced," he objected, with the airs -of a grandfather. "It would not be fair to her. She is better where she -is, out of all the trouble. However, there is no need to decide -immediately. We'll see the night through first. All we can do for the -present is to make him as easy as possible and watch symptoms. The -_most_ important thing is not to meddle with him." - -This seemed a hard saying, and at first I could not credit it. It was -terrible to see nothing done, when he evidently suffered so--more and -more as the first shock passed and the dreadful fever rose and rose; but -while the lung was letting blood and air into the cavity of the chest, -which could not be reached to stop the leak, handling of any sort only -aggravated the mischief. The doctor explained this to me when I was -impatient, and I had to own that he was probably right. He asked me to -see about drinks and nourishment, and when I left the room to do so I -had a mind to seize the opportunity for a few frantic tears in private, -impelled by the pent-up anguish I could not otherwise relieve. - -But outside the door--Harry's door--I came upon Miss Blount. The little -fool was crying herself--as if it were any concern of hers!--and looked -a perfect sight with her swelled nose and sodden cheeks. Somehow I -couldn't stand it, on the top of all the rest--I just took her by the -arm and marched her back to the schoolroom. I hope I was not rough or -unkind--I really don't think I was--but to see her you would have -thought she was a ridiculous little martyr being led to the stake. I -said to her--quite quietly, without making any fuss--"My dear, while you -remain in this house--until the notice I have been compelled by our -contract to give you has expired--oblige me by keeping in your proper -place and confining your attention to your proper business." - -Just as if I had not spoken--and I am sure she never heard a word--she -turned on me at the schoolroom door and clutched at my dress. With both -hands she held on to me, so that I really could not get away from her. - -"Oh, tell me, tell me," she cried, with a lackadaisical whine, as if we -were playing melodrama at a cheap theatre, "_What_ does the doctor say? -Is he, oh, _is_ he going to die?" - -I replied--cuttingly, I am afraid--that the doctor seemed perfectly -well. There was no sign of dying, that I could see, about him. - -Then she said "Harry!" Yes, to my very face! As if she had a right to -call my son by his christian name. I was greatly exasperated; any mother -would have been--especially after what had happened. - -I answered, "_Mr_. Harry _is_ going to die--_thanks to you_, Miss -Blount." - -I truly believed that he was, and I honestly thought that it was her -doing; because if she had not misconducted herself, and tempted him to -do so, I should not have had to scold him, and he would not have gone -out in a rage, to ride a young horse recklessly. Still, it has occurred -to me since that perhaps I was not quite just to her, poor thing. - -Oh, what a night that was! Temperature 103 degrees, and a short, -agonising cough catching the hurt side, which he was obliged to lie on, -because the other lung had to do the work of both. We padded him with -the softest pillows in the house, and tried ice, and -sedatives--everything we could think of; but we could not soothe the -struggling chest, which was the only way to stop the inward bleeding. -And he kept up a sort of grinding moan, like a long "u" in French--worse -than shrieks. It was too, too cruel! I wonder my hair did not turn -white. - -Next day we got the surgeon from town; the day after, the nurse. But I -came to an understanding with her before she set foot in Harry's room. I -bade her remember that he was my son, and that a mother could not -consent to be superseded. She asked if she were to be allowed to carry -out the doctor's orders, and when I said "Yes, of course," she seemed -satisfied. She was a good creature. After all, I don't know what we -should have done without her. There is a limit to one's strength, and -though Phyllis was a great help outside the sick-room, we did not think -it right--Dr. Juke did not think it right--to let her be much in it. - -She came home as soon as she heard what had happened, in spite of his -advice. I went downstairs one day, and found her sitting in the deserted -drawing-room, with her hat on, talking to him; I thought he had gone an -hour ago, but he had seen her arriving, and stayed to break things to -her and give her all the particulars, before she met the rest of us. He -was somewhat inclined to be officious, though he meant well. - -I exclaimed in astonishment at the sight of her. - -"It was no good, mother; I had to come," said she, rising quickly and -taking out her hat-pins. "And I did not warn you, for fear you should -prevent me. Don't scold me--Dr. Juke doesn't. I want to help, and he -says I can be a lot of use." - -"Invaluable," said Juke, in a young man's gushing manner. "It was only -for your own sake, Miss Phyllis, that I wished you out of it." - -She is not Miss Phyllis, by the way, but Miss Braye. - -"I mean to be everybody's right hand," she continued, trying to cheer -me. "We are not going to let you kill yourself any more, mother dear. -And we are not going to let Harry die, either--are we, Dr. Juke?" - -"No, no," replied the doctor, with an exaggerated air of reassuring me, -as if pacifying a timid child. "We'll pull him through amongst us. The -sight of your face"--it was not my face he meant--"will be the best -medicine he can have. Only, remember, you must not talk to him." - -"I know--I know. You will find that I shall be discretion itself." - -She was quite gay. I could see that she did not yet realise the -situation, poor child, whatever Juke had told her about it. But when I -took her upstairs, and showed her the changed face in the sick-room, she -was shocked enough. She and her brother were devoted to each other. They -used to go to their little parties and entertainments together, and -everybody used to remark upon their looks and say what a handsome pair -they made. He thought--that is, he used to think, before other girls -spoiled him--that there was no one like his sister Phyllis, and she -thought the same of him. Nevertheless, when I told her of his conduct -with Miss Blount, she was quite indignant. She said she would never have -believed it of him. At the same time she was firmly convinced, as I was, -that Miss Blount had done the love-making and led him on. What a comfort -it was to have my dear girl to talk to and confide in! She was not only -a lovely young creature--though I say it--but had the sense of an old -woman. Lily was quite different. But then Lily was a child--barely -seventeen--and she had an absurd infatuation for her governess, such as -you often see in a raw schoolgirl. It was a stupid mistake on my part to -engage a person of twenty-two to teach her--I saw it now; and I think it -a still greater mistake to confer University degrees on such young -women. You seem to expect them to be above the imbecilities of ordinary -girls, and they are not a bit. - -Well, we shut them up together in a separate part of the house, giving -them their meals in the schoolroom. We did not want Lily to be losing -the education we were paying so much for, and Tom and I just took our -food as we could get it. We had no heart to sit down to table. Sometimes -he slept for a little, and sometimes I, but one or the other of us was -always on guard; while Phyllis prepared the iced milk and soda, and -waited on the nurse and doctor. Certainly the doctor was most devoted; -he could not have done more for his patient if he had been his own -brother. - -I am sure it was the opinion of his medical colleague that Harry could -never pull through. He said, in so many words, that the case was as -grave as possible, owing chiefly, as I understood, to the accumulation -of fluid in the chest, which could not be mechanically dealt with. -Nevertheless, the dear boy rallied a little, and then a little more--the -fever keeping down in the daytime, and not running quite so high at -night--until it really seemed that we might begin to hope. He was such a -splendid young fellow, and had such a magnificent constitution! But for -that I am convinced he could not have survived an hour. One afternoon he -was sleeping so comfortably that they all insisted on my going out for -some fresh air. Tom took me for a walk round the garden, and we planned -what we would do for our beloved one when he got well--how we would go -for a little travel to amuse and cheer him, to recruit his strength and -distract his mind from nonsense. - -When I returned, I found that he had awakened from his sleep, calm and -refreshed; that he had asked to see his sister Lily, and--that that fool -of a nurse had allowed it! Oh, I could have shaken her! As it was, I -gave her a talking to that she sulked over for a week. Lily, she said, -had only remained with him ten minutes--as if one minute wouldn't have -been enough to undo all our work! _Idiot!_ And to call herself a trained -nurse, too! - -As soon as I approached his bed I saw the difference. Not only had he -been doing so well, he had been so nice to me, so loving and gentle, as -if feeling that all was right between us. Now he was flushed--I knew his -temperature had gone up again--and he looked at me as if I were his -enemy instead of his mother. - -"Is it true," he said, "that you have given Miss Blount notice?" - -I did not know what to say. Seeing the absolute necessity for keeping -him quiet, I tried to put the question aside. But he would have an -answer. - -"Dearest," I pleaded, "I am doing for the best. And you will be the -first to acknowledge it when you are yourself again. It is for her -sake," I added, though I'm sure I don't know why I said that. - -He continued to look at me as if I were a graven image, insensible to -the tears that filled my eyes. And he looked _so_ handsome--even in this -wreck of health--a fit husband for a queen. - -"Mother," he said, in a stern way, "if you do a thing so unjust as that -I will never forgive you." - -Ah, Harry! Harry! And after all I had done for him--slaving night and -day! After all the love and care, the heart's blood, that I had lavished -on him for nearly twenty-four years! - -"Unjust!" I repeated, cut to the quick. "My boy, I may have my faults--I -daresay I have--nobody is perfect in this world; but my worst enemy -cannot lay it to my charge that I have ever committed an injustice." - -He smiled, but it was a hard smile. And the nurse came up, as bold as -you please, to tell me I must be silent, as I was exciting him. _I_ -exciting him! It was then I gave her that talking to. - -Well, he had been getting on as satisfactorily as possible up to this -point. But now, of course, he went back. His temperature was 104 degrees -in the night, and he complained of pains and uneasiness, and turned -against his nourishment, light and liquid as it was. When he did get a -snatch of sleep, his breathing was as restless as possible. Sometimes it -went fast, and sometimes it seemed to stop, and then he would suddenly -give a deep snore, and a jump that hurt his side and roused him. After -which he would lie still a little while, staring at the wall. His eyes -were full of fever, and presently he began to talk, and we could not -make out what he was saying, except that little huzzy's name--Emily. He -kept saying "Emily"--no, "Emmie"--as if he thought she was in the same -room. Once I fancied he called me, and when I went to him he put up his -poor hands--already so thin and bleached!--and I thought he wanted to be -forgiven and be friends with his mother again. But, just as I was -dropping on my knees beside him to take him into my arms, he said, "Kiss -me, Emmie." And, oh, in such a voice! It made me feel--but I can't -describe how it made me feel. - -And next day he had a shivering fit, and the day after another, with -more fever than ever when they had passed off--a thirst like fire, and -pain in breathing, and delirium, and everything that was bad and -hopeless. Dr. Juke said it meant blood-poisoning, and that he had -expected it from the first; but I did not believe it. For was he not -doing beautifully up to the moment when Lily was allowed to see him and -upset him with her tales? This time we sent for two doctors from -Melbourne, and they and Juke were closeted together for an hour after -making their examination; and, when they came out at last, they said -they were agreed that our boy was in so desperate a state that nothing -short of a miracle could save him. - -I called the girls into my room to break it to them, and we sat on the -sofa at the foot of my bed and had our cry together. I was completely -broken down. So was poor Lily. She sobbed so violently that I was afraid -Harry would hear her. Phyllis was more composed--she always was--and -refused to despair as long as life was in him. She professed contempt -for the great doctors, and pinned her faith to Juke. Juke had told her -that miracles, in his profession, were constantly happening, and that -for his part he did not mean to give up the fight until all was over. - -"I believe, mother," said my brave girl, "that he will succeed, after -all, in spite of those old fogies. He knows a lot more than they do, and -he says there's no calculating the power of youth and a sound -constitution in these cases. He says----" - -But I was too wretched to listen to her. They were not old fogies to -me--those two experienced men--and a young doctor is but a young doctor, -however clever; I found it impossible to hope at this juncture. Lily was -kneeling by me with her arms round my waist, quite hysterical with -grief; and for the moment I felt that she was more in sympathy with me -than her sister. I realised my mistake when the child suddenly sprang to -her feet, hitting my chin with her head as she did so, and declared that -she must go to "poor Miss Blount." - -"Lily," I cried, as she was flinging out of the room in her impetuous -fashion, "what are strangers at such a time as this?" - -"Nothing," said Lily, in a brazen way--she would never have spoken to -her mother in that tone if she had not been encouraged; "but Miss Blount -is not a stranger. She loves Harry, and Harry loves her, and she's -broken-hearted, and she's ill, and she's nearly out of her mind, and -nobody ever says a kind word to her! Even now that he's dying, and they -can't have each other, you treat her as if she were dirt. Poor, poor -Emily! Let me go to her! Now that Harry's dying, she's got nobody--not a -soul in this house--but me!" - -Well, indeed! Who'd be a mother, if she could foresee what would come of -it? To have this blow, on the top of all the rest, and at _such_ a -moment! I felt quite stunned. At first I could only stare at her--I -could not speak; then I said, "Go, go!" and pointed to the door. For I -could bear no more. - -As soon as she was gone, I turned to my faithful Phyllis, put my head on -her shoulder, and sobbed like a baby. - -"Oh, Phyllis," I cried, "never you get married, my dear! Never you have -children, to suffer through them as I suffer!" - -She was wiser than I, however. She said she didn't think it was -altogether the children's fault. - -I admitted it at once. "You are quite right," I said, "and I was wrong. -It is not the children's fault. It's the fault of that hateful creature, -who has set them both against me. First Harry, then Lily--the very one -she was hired to teach her duty to! Fancy a governess, calling herself a -governess, and a B.A. to boot, corrupting an innocent young girl, a mere -child, with all the details of a clandestine love intrigue! What infamy! -What treachery!" I was beside myself when I thought of it. Any mother -would have been. - -But Phyllis was not a mother, and she was but lukewarm in this matter -upon which I felt so strongly. Indeed, I was half inclined to fear that -she, too, had become infected by the evil influence amongst us, until I -found that it was Dr. Juke who had been putting ideas into her head. -Dr. Juke was undoubtedly very clever, and we were enormously indebted to -him; still, I have always felt that he was too fond of giving his -opinion upon things that were altogether outside his province. It -appeared he had been telling Phyllis that it was very bad for Harry to -have any trouble on his mind, and that it was absolutely necessary, if -we would give him his full chances of recovery, to remove any that we -knew of which could be removed. - -"After all," said Phyllis, in a tone that showed how he had talked her -over, "she's a ladylike person enough, and certainly a clever one." - -"Clever, indeed," I retorted, "to have caught a man like him! And -looking all the while as demure and innocent as a nun--as if butter -wouldn't melt in her mouth! Oh, Phyllis, it would blight his career for -ever." - -"Perhaps not," she rejoined tolerantly--for she was too young to know; -"but even so, I would rather have him blight his career than die." - -"You speak," I cried--"you actually speak as if _I_ wanted him to die!" - -Here Tom came in, and when she saw her father she got up to leave us -together. I was glad indeed to have him to myself for a few minutes. We, -at any rate, understood each other. He has his faults, dear fellow, and -I often get impatient with him; but he loves me--he thinks the world of -me--he doesn't question my judgment and criticise my conduct, as the -children do. I was going to tell him about Lily, and about what Juke had -said to Phyllis; but when he took me into his great, strong, kind arms, -I was too overcome to utter a word. I could do nothing but weep. Nor -could he. We thought how we had toiled and slaved to make our precious -boy the man he was--how we had nursed him through his baby illnesses, -and pinched ourselves to send him to public school and University, and -been so proud of his beauty and his talents and his achievements, and -looked forward with such joy to the name he would make in the world; -and how we were to lose him after all, just as we were looking for the -reward of our love and labours--and in this truly awful way! - -Tom said it was quite certain now that he would die. Blood-poisoning had -set in; there were swellings in some muscles of his body to prove it--a -fatal symptom, as every one knew. It only needed to spread to an -internal organ, and the machine would stop at once. - -"And the sooner it's over, the better," groaned Tom, "and the poor -chap's sufferings at an end. Ah, Polly, old girl, little we thought of -this when he was born, and we were as vain as two peacocks over him! Do -you remember how you brought him up to Sydney, because you couldn't wait -till I got home--and we had him on the bridge at night when the -passengers were a-bed below----" - -"Oh, don't!" I wailed in agony. Remember it! Did I not remember it? And -a hundred thousand heart-breaking things. - -But we had to compose ourselves as best we could, and go back to our -dreadful duties; he to see that the doctors had a proper lunch before -they left, I to renew my watch in the sick-room--to see the last, as I -supposed, of my dying boy. - -On my way I came upon Jane hurrying along the passage with a basin of -hot broth. Harry was not allowed animal food, so I stopped her to ask -what she was doing with it. - -"Taking it to Miss Blount," she replied; and I fancied she did not speak -quite so respectfully as usual. "That poor young lady hardly touches her -meals, and it do go to my heart to see her look so ill. I thought -perhaps a drop of good soup'd tempt her." - -Now I did not want to get the character--which I am the last person to -deserve--of being a hard woman. I am not one of those low creatures that -one reads of in novels who don't know how to treat a governess properly. -To me Miss Blount was as much a lady as I was myself, and I had always -made a point of considering her in anything. Besides, it was not the -time for animosities. All was changed in view of Harry's approaching -death. She could not injure him any more. So I took the little tray -from Jane, and said to her, "Go back to your kitchen, and attend to the -doctors' lunch. I will take the broth to Miss Blount, and find out what -is the matter with her." - -The girl was in her bedroom. When she saw me she jumped up, as scared as -if I had been an ogress come to eat her; but when I first opened the -door she was kneeling against her bed, as if saying her prayers. -Certainly, she did look ill. She had had a very nice complexion--no -doubt poor Harry had noticed it--and her eyes were good; but now her -skin was like tallow, and her eyes all dark and washed out, and they had -a curious empty expression in them that I did not like at all. I put the -tray on the drawers and went up to her, and laid my hand on her -shoulder. "My dear," I said, as kindly as I could speak, "I have brought -you a little nourishing broth, that I think will do you good. And you -must take it at once, while it is hot, to please me." - -She did not so much as say thank you, but just stood and stared in a -dazed, fixed way, like a deaf mute. So, naturally, I did not feel -inclined to bother myself further about her, and I turned to go. As soon -as I did that, however, she spoke to me, calling my name. Her voice had -a sort of lost sound in it, as if she were talking in her sleep. - -"Mrs. Braye," she said, "there's something I have been wanting to say to -you." - -"What is it?" I inquired. - -"If Mr. Harry gets well, I will not marry him--to blight his career. I -never would have injured him, and I never will. I would die sooner." - -Well, it seemed rather late to think of that. Still, it showed a nice -spirit, and I liked the way she spoke of him. She really was a lady, in -her way, and--poor thing!--she did look the picture of misery. I am a -tender-hearted woman, and I could not but feel a pang of pity for her. - -"Ah, my dear," I said, "there's no question of marrying or not now! He -is going fast, and nothing matters any more." - -Then I kissed her--I kissed her affectionately--and bade her lie down, -and not trouble about Lily's lessons; and I told her that whenever there -was a change in Harry's condition I would let her know. - -The change came a few days later--not suddenly, but creeping inch by -inch; and it was not the change we had all anticipated. My splendid boy! -Just as he had struggled and triumphed at football and cricket, so his -magnificent strength fought with and overcame the poison in his blood -before it could deposit itself in vital organs. It was marvellous. The -very doctors, accustomed to miracles, could not believe their senses -when they counted his pulse and looked at the little thermometer, and -felt the places where the sore lumps had been. For weeks, I may say, we -seemed to hold our breath in the maddening suspense, tantalised and -intoxicated with a hope we dared not call a certainty; but at last we -knew that life had conquered death, and that I was not called upon to -undergo _this_ agony of motherhood a second time. Of course he was -weaker than a new-born baby--a mere shadow of himself; but he was saved. -When they told me, I fell on my knees, just where I stood, and cried in -my wild rapture and thankfulness, "Oh, God! God! What can I do--what -uttermost service or sacrifice can I offer--for all Thy goodness to me?" - -They looked at me in an odd way. They all looked at me, even my boy with -his hollow eyes. And Tom said, "Come here, Polly, I want to speak to -you;" and took me into our room, and laid his hand on my shoulders. He -stood six feet in his socks, and weighed sixteen stone, but he trembled -like a child. - -"Old girl," he said, "you'll have to let him have her." - -"Oh," I replied, "if he wants the moon, give it to him! I don't care." - -It was a figurative way of expressing my mood of joy--my longing to -compensate him utterly for what he had gone through; and I don't think I -ought to have been taken so literally. But, before the words were well -out of my mouth, Tom made off to Harry's room, and there and then -informed him that "mother had given her consent." - -And he did not tell me he was going to catch me up in this way. When -next I went to my boy's bedside, and he murmured, "Good old mummy!" and -remarked, with that deep thrill in his voice, that it was worth while -getting well, I thought he meant that it was worth while getting well to -see us all so happy. - -"Ay," I said, from my heart, "if you hadn't got well, it's little that -would have been worth while to _me_ any more." - -"Poor old mummy!" he ejaculated. And then, turning serious eyes upon my -face, "You will never regret it. I can answer for that." - -"You need not waste breath to tell me what I know better than I know -anything," I responded, smiling. - -"I mean," he said, still seriously, "about _her._" - -Then I understood why he had said it was worth while to get well. She -was of more consequence to him than all his own people put together. - -"Her?" I queried, smoothing his hair--not letting him guess the pang I -felt. - -"Miss Blount. Father says you have been so good to us--that you have -given us leave--that it's all right now. Look here, mother, if you only -knew her----" - -I stopped him, for he was getting agitated. - -"If your heart is set on it, darling--by and by, I mean, when you are -quite well, and have thoroughly considered the matter--don't imagine _I_ -shall be the one to disappoint you and make you unhappy. I never have -been a cruel mother, have I? And as for knowing Miss Blount, if I don't -know her, having her constantly in the house with me, who should? Don't -worry yourself about Miss Blounts or anything else till you are -stronger, dearest. Put everything out of your head--think of nothing -whatever--except getting well. And when you are quite well--then we'll -see." - -"I can't put her out of my head. I want to see her, mother." - -"So you shall, dear--as soon as you are fit to see people. I will ask -the doctor about it." - -"Juke wouldn't object; he'd be glad. Oh, mother----!" - -The nurse came up, and said she thought he had talked enough. I thought -so too. His thin cheek was flushed, and his lip trembled; he was -inclined to excite himself, and had not strength to spare for that just -yet. I gave him his nourishment, turned his pillow, and whispered to him -that, if he would sleep for a few hours, then he should have his wish. - -"Honour bright?" he whispered back. - -"Don't insult me," I retorted. "When did you ever know me to break a -promise?" - -"To-day, mother?" - -"To-day--if Dr. Juke approves. Of course we must have doctor's express -permission." - -"All right. Give me a squirt of morphia, nurse." - -"No, Master Harry. No more morphia, my dear--except maybe a time or two -at night, when you _can't_ do without it." - -"I can't do without it now," he said. "I've got to sleep before I can -see her, and I can't sleep, of myself, until I do see her." - -"There," I exclaimed, flinging out a hand. "What did I say? I _knew_ -what the effect would be." - -The woman--who, I found, was actually privy to the whole affair--Tom's -doing, no doubt--began to give her opinion, as is the way of those -nurses. "If you'll take my advice," said she, "you'll let him see her -now, and sleep afterwards. It'll tire him less than fretting for her." - -"And if you will be so good as to mind your own business," I replied, -quietly but firmly, "I shall be infinitely obliged to you." - -I had not been out of the room five minutes before Tom came to seek me, -looking quite hoity-toity, as if he thought himself aboard ship again, -with sailors. - -"Now then, Polly," he said, "I'm not going to have any more nonsense -about this. The boy is too weak to be worried. I am going to fetch -Emily." - -"Since when," I asked, "has it been your habit to call her Emily?" - -He stared, and looked confused. "I suppose," he said, "I've caught it -from Harry." - -"Talking with him so much about her, when it was so necessary to keep -him calm? And to that nurse woman, behind my back--as if the private -concerns of our family were any concern of servants! Tom, I didn't think -_you_ would ever be disloyal to me." - -"I don't think I ever have been, Polly. What's more, I don't think you -would ever imagine such a thing in cool blood. Come, you are not going -to spoil this happy day for us all, are you? The boy has been given back -to us by a miracle----" - -That was enough. I flung myself into his arms. - -"Forgive me! Forgive me!" I cried. "I know it is wicked of me. But you -don't _know_ how I feel it, Tom!" - -"Yes, I do, pet; I know exactly." - -"No one but a mother _can_ know. I used to be everything to him once, -and now he is only glad to get well because of her!" - -"Well, it's natural. We----" - -"No, we didn't. We had no mothers. But never mind--I won't be selfish. I -will go and fetch her at once." - -"Would you rather I went?" - -"_Certainly_ not! Do you suppose I want them to go on thinking that you -are their only friend, and I their implacable enemy? _I_ want to make -him happy as much as ever you can do." - -"That's right, old girl. If you're going to do a kind thing, do it the -kindest way you know. They'll be just fit to worship you, both of 'em." - -I did not ask to be worshipped, but I did want my boy to love his mother -a little. I ran to him, brushing the nurse aside. - -"Dearest," I whispered, "I am going to bring Emily. She shall sit with -you as long and as often as you like. She shall be your wife, if you -want her. I will make a daughter of her--for your sake." - -I took the kiss I had so richly earned, and hurried to the schoolroom. -There sat Miss Blount, still faded and tearful, but beaming with the joy -that filled the house, like the sun through rain. She and Lily had been -crying and rejoicing together, congratulating one another. I waved the -child aside, and, taking her governess by the hand, with a "Come, dear," -which I could see explained everything in a moment, led her into Harry's -room. - -After all, she was a lady, and a B.A. He might have done worse. But when -I saw the look he turned to her when she ran like a deer to his -arms--poor sticks of arms!--and how he held her, and crooned over -her--oh, it was like a dagger in my breast! - -Tom took me away, and tried to comfort me. He reminded me that we did -the same ourselves when we were young, and that we still had each -other. - -"You've still got me, Polly. _I_ sha'n't desert you." - -Yes, yes; of course I still had him. But---- - -Well, a _man_ can't understand. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. - - -A boy who is not yet twenty-four, and who has nothing beyond his salary -as a clerk in a shipping office, and whose young lady is a pauper, can -get engaged if he likes; but he cannot get married. I pointed this out -to Harry as soon as he was well enough to be reasoned with. I said to -him, "You know, my dearest, that there's nothing in the world I would -not do to make you happy, but it would not be making you happy to let -you think for a moment of such madness." It appeared, from Tom's -account, that the child had been thinking of it--doubtless at Emily's -instigation. "I might as well encourage you to cut your throat. Far -better, indeed." - -"Better?" he echoed, lifting his eyebrows, and smiling in that queer way -of his. - -"Better!" I insisted firmly. "You little know what it means--that -rushing into irrevocable matrimony without counting the cost--without -knowing what it entails--without experience or means----" - -"Mother," he interrupted, still smiling--a little impudently, though I -don't think he meant to be rude--"you were not any more experienced than -we are, and not any older or richer, were you?" - -I replied with dignity that my case was nowise in point. He wanted to -know why it was not. I said, because I--unlike him--had been practically -homeless at the time. And he cried, "_Were_ you? I never heard of that!" -and stared at me in such a way that I blushed hotly, though old enough -to know better. He was an obstinate fellow, and he corresponded with his -grandfather and young uncles and aunts in England, and had a heap of -their autographed photos in his room. I thought I had better turn him -over to his father. - -Tom was walking in the garden with Emily, who had managed to get around -him in that innocent-seeming way of hers--well, I must not be -uncharitable; I daresay it _was_ innocent, and I could almost have -fancied that they did not care about being interrupted. Only, of course, -that's nonsense. - -"My dear," I said, in a sprightly voice, "your young man seems to find -his mother a bore these days, and it's only natural. I have been trying -to cheer him, and he responds by yawning in my face. Pray do go and -exercise your spells, which are so much more potent, and leave me my old -man, who is still my own." - -Was there any harm in a little light chaff of this kind? One would -surely think not. But Tom, standing and looking after her as she slipped -away, blushing in her ready, _ingenue_ fashion--so unlike a B.A.--said, -quite gravely---- - -"That's a dear little soul, Polly! And I wouldn't speak to her in just -that sort of a way, if I were you. It hurts her." - -"It hurts _me_," I returned, "when _you_ speak in that sort of a way. -It is most unjust. Can't you take a joke? You know perfectly well that I -treat her with the utmost kindness and consideration--that I have -accepted her unreservedly, for my boy's sake." - -"Well, well," said he, "I know you don't mean it. Your bark's worse than -your bite, old girl. Come and look at the new pigs." - -He drew my hand under his arm and patted it. We had had so many little -tiffs lately--things we never dreamt of till Miss Blount came!--that I -was determined not to quarrel now. It should never be said that _I_ was -to blame for making a happy home unhappy. I swallowed my vexation and -went to see the pigs--thirteen little black Berkshires, all as lively as -they could be, on which he gloated whole-heartedly for the moment, as if -they were more than wife or children. In his expansive ardour he offered -me one of them to make a festive dish of for Sunday. - -"Let us have a little feast, Polly, for the young folks. Harry is able -to sit up to table now, and we have done nothing to celebrate the -engagement yet. Sucking-pig and one of the fat turkeys, and ask Juke to -join us. Eh?" - -"My dear," I replied, "I am perfectly willing to celebrate the -engagement in any way you like--yes, we'll have a nice dinner, and ask -Dr. Juke--I am sure we owe him every attention that we can possibly pay -him; but what I want to warn you against is letting them suppose that -there is to be any celebration of the marriage--with our consent." - -Tom stared as if he did not understand. - -"You mean, not immediately?" he questioned. "Of course not." - -"I mean, not for _years_," I solemnly urged. "Tom, you must back me up -in this. The boy is but a boy, with his way to make in the world. Before -we allow him to saddle himself with a wife who will probably be quite -useless--those University women always are--and the responsibilities of -a family, he _must_ be in a position to afford it." - -"Yes," said Tom, in a tepid way. "But you and I, Polly----" - -"Oh, never mind about you and me," I broke in; "that is altogether -different"--for of course it was. "You were a man of twice his age." - -"Which would make him about fourteen," said my husband, trying to be -funny. - -As for me, I saw nothing to laugh at. I cannot imagine a more serious -position as between parent and child. "At his time of life," I said, -"four years are equal to ten at any other stage. Let him have those four -years--let him begin where his father did--and I shall be quite -satisfied." - -"Well, you see, my dear, it hardly rests with us, does it?" - -Tom stirred up the mother sow with his walking-stick, and sniggered in a -most feeble-minded fashion. - -"How? Why not?" I demanded. "Do you mean to say you have not the power -to influence him? Do you think that Harry, if properly advised, would -persist in taking his own way in spite of us? I refuse to believe that -any son of _mine_ could do such a thing." - -Again Tom laughed, looking at me as if he saw some great joke somewhere. -I asked him what it was, and he said, "Oh, never mind--nothing." But I -knew. He was thinking of my own elopement, to which I was driven by my -father's second marriage--an incident that had no bearing whatever upon -the present case. It exasperated me to see him so flippant about a -matter of really grave importance, but I determined not to let him draw -me into a dispute. - -"Four years," I said mildly, "would give them time to know each other -and their own minds. It would be a test, to prove them. If at the end of -four years they were still faithful, I should feel assured that all was -well. But of course they would get tired of each other long before that, -and so he would be spared a terrible fate, and all the trouble would be -at an end." - -We had left the pigsty and were pacing the paths of the kitchen garden, -surveying the depredations of the irrepressible slug. - -"The rain seems to wash the soot away as fast as I put it on," sighed -Tom. "I'll get a bag of lime, and try what that'll do. Well, Polly, for -my part, I should be very sorry to think them likely to get tired of -each other. And I don't believe it, either. I don't think she's that -sort of a girl somehow." - -"How like a man!" I ejaculated. "Just because she's got a pretty face!" - -"No, not because she's got a pretty face--though it is a pretty -face--but because she's good as well as pretty. She's a right down good -girl, my dear, believe me--just the sort of daughter-in-law I'd have -chosen for myself, if I had had the choosing. I told Harry so. You -should have seen how pleased he was!" - -"No doubt. But I don't see how you can know whether she's good or not. -_You_ are not always with her, as we are." - -"Oh, I see her at times. We have little talks occasionally. A man can -soon tell." He put his arm round my waist as we paced along. "I haven't -been married to you for all these years without knowing a good woman -from a bad one, Polly." - -It was intended for a compliment, but somehow I could not smile at it. -In fact, I shed a tear instead. And when he saw it, and stooped to kiss -it away, my feelings overcame me. I threw my arms round his neck and -begged him not to let fascinating daughters-in-law draw away his heart -from his old wife. I daresay it was silly, but I could not help it. Of -course he chuckled as if I had said something very funny. And his only -reply was "_Baby!_"--in italics. So like a man, who never can see a -meaning that is not right on the top of a word. - -However, I promised to be nice to Emily--nicer, rather, for, as I told -him, I had always been nice to her--and he said he would take an early -opportunity to have a serious talk with Harry. - -"But let the poor chap alone till he gets his strength again," he -pleaded--as if I were a perfect tyrant, bent on making the boy -miserable; "let the poor children enjoy their love-making for the little -while that Emily remains here. She has been telling me that she's got a -fine appointment in a school--joint principal--and that she's going to -work in a fortnight--to work and save for their little home, till Harry -is ready for her." - -"_What?_" I exclaimed. "She never told me that." - -"She will, of course, when you give her the chance," said Tom, with an -air of apology. - -"She ought to have told me, she ought to have confided in me, first of -all," I urged, much hurt, as I had every right to be; "I can't -understand why she did not. You seem," I concluded passionately--"you -all seem to be having secrets behind my back, and shutting me out of -everything, as if I were everybody's enemy. It is always so!" - -"It is never so," replied Tom, laying his arm round my shoulder. "You -are never outside, old girl, except when you won't come in." - -That was what they always said when they wanted to defend themselves. - -But here we dropped the painful subject, and discussed the details of -our proposed festival. - -"Only Juke?" I inquired, counting on my fingers. "That makes seven in -all--an awkward number." - -"No matter for a family party," said Tom. "We are not going in for style -this time. The boy in his armchair and pillows will take the room of -two." - -"Still, we may as well make it an even eight," I urged. "Otherwise the -table will look lopsided, and one or other of the girls will have nobody -to talk to." - -"They will be quite satisfied to have their brother to look at. No, no, -Polly, don't let us make a company affair of it, for goodness' sake. -Harry wouldn't like it, or be fit for it either." - -"And isn't Juke company?" - -"By Heavens, no! We owe it to that young fellow that our only son isn't -in his grave--yes, Polly, I am convinced of it--and my house is his, and -all that's in it. Besides, he'll be here professionally--to see that -Harry doesn't overeat himself. Oh, Juke is quite another pair of -shoes." - -I certainly did not see it. He had served us well, no doubt, and we had -paid him well; each side had done its part in a generous and -conscientious spirit. I considered he had no more claim on us now than -the thousands of passengers Tom had carried when he was a sea captain -had on him. I am sure no doctor in the world can match a ship's -commander of the most common type for self-denying devotion to the cause -of duty. But, seeing Tom so inclined to be cross and unreasonable, I -thought it better to say no more. We returned to the sty to select the -piglet that was to be killed, and in my own mind I selected the guest -who should make the table symmetrical. I knew that Harry would only -rejoice to see another friend, and it was due to Phyllis to provide her -as well as the others with a companion. It was also an opportunity which -I did not feel it right to miss for serving her interests in other ways. - -I am not one of those vulgar match-makers who are the laughing-stock of -the young men, and properly so--quite the contrary, indeed: no one can -accuse _me_ of scheming to get my daughters married. Still, they must be -married some day--or should be, in the order of nature--and surely to -goodness a mother is permitted to safeguard, to some extent, a -thoughtless and ignorant girl against the greatest of all the perils -that her inexperience of life can expose her to. Not for the world would -I force her inclination in any way, but there is a difference between -doing that and letting her make a fool of herself with the first casual -puppy in coat and trousers that crosses her path. The duty of parents is -to protect their adolescent children from themselves, as it were, in -this incalculably important matter; that is to say, to keep their path -clear of acquaintanceships from which undesirable complications might -result, while encouraging innocent friendships that may develop with -impunity. Otherwise, what's the use of being parents at all? Your -children might as well be orphans, and better. I neglected this duty, -certainly, when I allowed Harry and Emily Blount to have access to each -other; but then a son is not like a daughter--you can't be always -overlooking him--and that affair was a lesson to me. I determined to be -more vigilant in Phyllis's case. - -Phyllis is not like other girls. I think I may say, without a particle -of vanity, that she is the very prettiest in Australia, at the least. -There may be greater beauties at home--I don't know, it is so long since -I was there; but if there be, I should like to see them. Her features -are not classical, of course, and that dear little piquant suggestion of -a cast in the left eye is a peculiarity, though it is not a defect, any -more than are the freckles she gets in summer: these trifles of detail -merely go to make the _tout-ensemble_ what it is--so charming that she -has but to enter a room to eclipse every other woman in it. This being -so, I was naturally anxious that she should marry, when she did marry, -into her proper sphere, and not be thrown away upon a man unworthy of -her. And I only took the most simple and necessary precaution for her -safety when I limited my invitations to young fellows whom I could -trust--like Spencer Gale. - -Tom says I never had a good word for Spencer Gale until he made his -fortune in Broken Hills. It amuses Tom to make these reckless -statements, and it doesn't hurt me in the least. I _always_ liked the -boy, but any fair-minded person must have acknowledged that his change -of circumstances had improved him--brushed him up, and brightened him in -every way. It was not his wealth that induced me to throw him into my -daughter's company, but his sterling personal qualities. A better son -never walked, excepting my own dear Harry--that alone was enough for me; -a good son never fails to make a good husband, as everybody knows. - -His sister was a friend and neighbour of mine, and I knew that he was -staying with her. At one time all the family had lived here, Mr. Gale -having Tom's fancy for amateur farming and market-gardening in his -leisure hours. Spencer and Harry, both being clerks in Melbourne -offices, used to go into town together of a morning; that was how we -came to know them. But when Spencer had some shares given him which went -to a ridiculous price directly afterwards, and when his money, by all -sorts of lucky chances, bred money at such a rate that he was worth -(they said) a quarter of a million in a twelvemonth, then they all left -this out-of-the-way suburb for a big place in Toorak--all except Mary -Gale, who married a poor clergyman before the boom. Mary's husband, Mr. -Welshman, was the incumbent of our parish, and her good brother was not -at all too grand to pay her visits at intervals, besides helping her to -educate the children. Which proved conclusively that prosperity had not -spoiled him. - -I walked to the parsonage on Friday afternoon, hoping to find him there; -but he was out, and I only saw Mrs. Welshman. I used to like Mary -Welshman in the old days, but she has become quite spoiled since people -began to make a fuss of her family on Spencer's account. It is always -the case--I have noticed it repeatedly; when sudden wealth comes to -those who have not been accustomed to it, it is the girls whose heads -are turned. I asked for Spencer, and mentioned that we wished him to -dine with us, and you would have thought I was seeking an audience with -a king from his lord chamberlain. - -"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure," she said, with her absurd airs of -importance. "He is so much in request everywhere. He is certain to have -a dozen engagements. I don't think you have the remotest chance of -getting him, Mrs. Braye, on such short notice." - -The fact was that she did not want me to get him. She had the fixed -delusion--all the Gales had--that there wasn't a mother or daughter in -the country who was not plotting to catch him for matrimonial purposes; -and she let me see very plainly her suspicion of my motives and her fear -of Phyllis's power. - -"To-night," she exclaimed, in a tone of triumph--"to-night he is dining -at the Melbourne Club, to meet the Governor." Poor thing! It was amusing -to see how proud she was of it--evidently bursting to proclaim the news -to all and sundry. - -"Very well," I said, smiling, "I will just drop a note to him at the -club." - -And then I turned the conversation upon parish matters, as the best way -of taking the conceit out of her. For I don't believe in clergymen's -wives setting themselves up to patronise their lady parishioners, on -whose favour and subscriptions (to put it coarsely) their husbands' -livelihood depends. - -On my way home I was fortunate enough to encounter Spencer Gale himself. -He was looking very well and handsome, riding a magnificent horse, which -curveted and pranced all over the road when he checked its gallop in -obedience to my uplifted hand. I felt a thrill of maternal pride as I -gazed at him--of maternal anxiety also. - -"My boy," I cried, "do pray be careful! Remember what happened to poor -Harry from this sort of rashness, and what a valuable life it is that -you are risking!" - -"Oh, it's all right, Mrs. Braye," he responded, in his nice, cheerful -way. "It is only oats and high spirits. How's Harry? Getting along like -a house afire, Mary tells me. I'm awfully glad." - -Dear fellow! His kindness touched me to the heart. I suppose he was -afraid to dismount from that obstreperous beast, lest he should lose -control of it, and I am sure he could not help the way it tried to -trample on me with its hind legs when I came near enough to talk. - -I told him how beautifully Harry was doing, and how he was to have his -first dinner with us on Sunday, and how delighted he would be to see an -old friend on such an occasion--and so on. Spencer seemed not to -understand me for a moment, owing to the clatter of the horse, for he -said he could not come because he was going to dine with the Governor at -the Melbourne Club. - -"But that is to-night," I called. "And we want you for the day after -to-morrow--Sunday. Just a simple family meal at half-past one--pot-luck, -you know." - -He did not answer for some minutes--thinking over his engagements, -doubtless; then he asked whether _all_ of us were at home. Aha! I knew -what that meant, though of course I pretended I didn't. I said that no -member of the family would be so heartless as to absent herself from -such a festival as Harry's first dinner; that, on the contrary, his -sister was more devoted to him, and far more indispensable both to him -and to the house than a dozen hospital nurses. I described in a few -words what Phyllis had been to us during our time of trouble, and he -smiled with pleasure. And of course he consented to accept the casual -invitation for her sake, pretending reluctance just to save appearances. -It was arranged that he would be at his sister's on Sunday, and walk -back with us after morning service. - -I told Tom in the evening, when he was sitting in the garden with his -pipe, in a good temper. You would have supposed I was announcing some -dreadful domestic calamity. - -"Whatever for?" he grumbled, with a most injured air. "I thought we -were to be a comfortable family party, just ourselves, and no fuss at -all." - -"There will be no fuss," I said, "unless you make it. He is just coming -in a friendly, informal manner, to fill the vacant place. If you will -have Dr. Juke, there must be another man to balance the table." - -"But why that man? You know Harry can't bear him since he's got so -uppish about his money and his swell friends. Why not have somebody of -our own class?--though I think it perfectly unnecessary to have anybody -under the circumstances." - -"Our own class!" I indignantly exclaimed. "I hope you don't insult your -children, not to speak of me, by implying that they are not good enough -for Gales to associate with?" - -"They are," said Tom; "they are--and a lot too good for one Gale to -associate with. But he don't think so, Polly." - -"If he did not, would he do it?" was my unanswerable retort. But it is -useless trying to argue with a prejudiced man who is determined not to -see reason. And I felt it wise to leave him before he could draw me into -a dispute. - -Harry, however, was equally exasperating. He said, "Oh, then I shall -make it Monday, if you don't mind. Better a dinner of herbs on -washing-day in peace and comfort than a stalled ox on Sunday with -Spencer Gale to spoil one's appetite and digestion for it." But Emily -rebuked him on my behalf. She had but to look at him to make him do what -she wished, and I suppose she thought it good policy to propitiate the -future mother-in-law. - -Phyllis, whom I had expected to please--for whose sake I had gone to all -this trouble--was simply insolent. Alas! it is the tendency of girls in -these days. Respect for parents, trust in their judgment and deference -to their wishes, all the modest, dutiful ways that were the rule when I -was young, seem quite to have gone out of fashion. You would have -thought that she was the mother and I the daughter if you had heard how -she spoke to me, and seen the superior air with which she stood over me -to signify her royal displeasure. - -"Oh, well, you have just gone and spoilt the whole thing--that's all." - -I could have cried with mortification. But then, what's the use? It is -only what wives and mothers must expect when they try to do their best -for their families. - -I had another struggle with her on Sunday morning. She refused to -accompany us to church. She said she was not going to offer herself to -Spencer Gale as a companion for a half-hour's walk--that he was quite -conceited enough without that; if other girls chose to run after him and -spoil him, she didn't. As if _I_ would ask her to run after any man! And -as if Emily or I could not have walked home with our guest! But I -learned a little later what all this prudishness amounted to. When we -came back from church--Emily, Lily, Spencer, and I--we found an empty -drawing-room, Harry and Tom in armchairs on the verandah, and Phyllis -away in the kitchen garden gathering strawberries for dessert with Dr. -Juke! And I discovered that that young man had interpreted an invitation -to lunch at half-past one as meaning that he should arrive punctually at -twelve. Tom pretended that he had called professionally at that hour, -and been persuaded to put his buggy up in our stables and remain. - -"And I suppose you persuaded him?" I said, trying--because Spencer was -standing by me--to keep what I felt out of my voice. - -"Well, my dear," replied the fatuous man, "the truth is, he didn't want -much pressing." - -There are times when I feel that I could shake Tom, he is so -wooden-headed and silly--though so dear. - -However, Phyllis, when I called her in, greeted Spencer Gale with proper -cordiality; and the whole family behaved better than I had expected they -would. They seemed to lay themselves out to be pleasant all round, and -to make Harry's first day downstairs a happy one. It was a delightful -early-summer day--he could not have had a better--and our pretty home -was looking its prettiest, for we had had nice rains that year. Phyllis -had decorated the table beautifully with roses, and Jane had surpassed -herself in cooking the dinner. The pig was done to a turn--I never -tasted anything so delicious--and the turkey was a picture. We had our -own green peas and asparagus and young potatoes, and our own cream -whipped in the meringues and coffee jelly--in short, it was as good a -dinner as any millionaire could wish for, and in the end everything -seemed to go as I had intended it should. - -Harry was no trouble at all. I purposely put him at his father's end of -the table, with Emily between him and Juke, to pacify him; and, with his -young lady at his side and Spencer as far off as possible, the dear boy -was as gay and good-tempered as could be, quite the life of the party. -Spencer sat between me and Phyllis, and she really seemed to devote -herself to him. I was surprised to see how little fear she evidently had -of appearing to throw herself at his head, like the other girls; she -chattered and joked to him--the prettiest colour and animation in her -face--and hardly glanced at Juke opposite, who, for his part, confined -his attentions to his neighbours, Miss Blount and me, and was -particularly unobtrusive and quiet. - -As for Spencer Gale, he was most interesting in his descriptions of what -he had seen and done during his recent European travels; it was quite an -education to listen to him. I was particularly pleased that he was so -ready to talk on this subject, because I hate to have the children grow -up narrow-minded and provincial, ignorant of the world outside their -colony. It has been the dream of my life to take them home and give them -advantages, and I have never been able to realise it. I could not help -thinking, as that young man discoursed of Paris and Venice and all the -rest of it, what a delightful honeymoon his bride might have! And so she -did, as it turned out, no great while afterwards. - -Harry yawned and fidgeted, for sitting long in one position tired him; -so Tom and Juke carried him to a cane lounge on the verandah before the -rest of us had had dessert. I was annoyed with Phyllis for running out -to get pillows, which were already there, and for not returning when she -had made her brother comfortable. Emily had the grace to remain at -table, and of course Lily stayed also. She is a most intelligent child, -voracious for information of all sorts; and she plied our guest with so -many questions, and amused him so much by her interest in his -adventures, that she made him forget the strawberries on his plate and -how time was going--forgetting herself that the poor servants were -wanting to clear away so that they might get out for their Sunday walk. - -At last he finished, and I led the way to the verandah, where I expected -to find the others. But only Harry and his father were there, the boy -looking rather fagged and inclined to doze, and Tom--who has no -manners--placidly sucking at his pipe. - -"Why, where is Phyllis?" I inquired. - -"Kitchen," said Harry promptly, opening his eyes. - -"And the doctor?" - -"Gone off to a patient." - -"Then," said I, "come and let me show you my roses, Mr. Gale;" and I -took his arm. I thought it a good opportunity to have a little quiet -talk with him on my own account. Afterwards I remembered that my husband -and son watched us rather anxiously as we sauntered off into the garden, -but I did not notice it at the time. It never crossed my mind that they -could deliberately conspire to deceive me. - -I had had the garden tidied, and, in the first flush of the summer -bloom, it looked really beautiful--although I say it. I would not have -been ashamed to show it to the Queen herself. And our rustic cottage, -that we had continually been adding to and improving ever since it came, -a mere shanty, into our hands, was a study for a painter, with the -yellow banksia in perfection, quite hiding the framework of the -verandah. I halted my companion on the front lawn, at the prettiest -point of view. - -"A humble little place," I remarked; "but I think I may say for it, -without undue vanity, that it looks like the home of gentlefolks." - -He followed my gaze, and fixed his eyes upon the particular window which -I informed him belonged to Phyllis's room. - -"What's she doing?" he inquired bluntly. He could not conceal his -impatience for her return. - -I told him that, in the case of so variously useful a person, it was -impossible to say. I had no doubt she was attending to housekeeping -matters, which she never neglected for her own amusement. Then I threw -out a feeler or two, to test him--to learn, if possible, something of -his tastes and character; it was necessary, for her sake, to do so. And -I was delighted to find that he shared my opinion of the colonial girl -as a type, and agreed with me that the term "unprotected female" should -in these days be altered to "unprotected male," seeing that it was the -women who did all the courting, and the men who were exposed to masked -batteries, as it were, at every turn. - -"A fellow's never safe till he's married," said the poor boy, doubtless -speaking from painful experience. "And not then." - -"That depends," said I. "There are people--I know plenty--who, having -married dolls like those we have been speaking of, find themselves far -indeed from being safe; but choose a good, modest, clever, loving girl, -who has been well brought up--one devoted to her home and unspoiled by a -vulgar society--and it is quite another pair of shoes, as my husband -would say. By the way, ask _him_ what he thinks of marriage for young -men." - -"I don't know that I want to ask anybody anything," he returned, a -little irritably--for Phyllis was still invisible--"except to leave me -alone to do as I like. I don't believe in having wives selected for me, -Mrs. Braye; I'm always telling my mother and sisters that, and they -won't pay the least attention. I think a fellow might be allowed to -please himself, especially a fellow in my position." - -"Certainly," I said, with all the emphasis I could command. "_Most_ -certainly. That is my own view exactly. I have always said that, in -respect of my own children, I would never force or thwart them in any -way. I chose the one I loved, regardless of wealth or poverty, and they -shall do the same. More than that," I added gaily, "I am going to be the -most charming mother-in-law that ever was! I shall quite redeem the -character. I will never attempt to interfere with my children's -households--never be _de trop_--never--oh! Why, there she is!" - -We were turning into a quiet path between tall shrubs--the fatal place -where, as I was told, Harry had been entrapped--and I suddenly saw the -gleam of a white dress in a little bower at the end of it. At the same -moment I saw--so did Spencer Gale--a thing that petrified us both. I was -struck speechless, but his emotion forced him to hysteric laughter. - -"I'm afraid," said he, recovering himself, "that we are _de trop_ this -time, at any rate." - -"Not at all," I retorted, also rallying my self-command. "Not at all. We -don't have anything of that sort in this family." - -But the facts were too palpable; it was useless pretending to ignore -them. Phyllis jumped out of the arbour, like an alarmed bird out of its -nest, and came strolling towards us, affecting a nonchalant air, but -with a face the colour of beetroot with confusion; and that unspeakable -doctor, who had caused her so to forget herself, strutted at her side, -twirling the tip of his moustache and endeavouring to appear as if he -had not been kissing her, but looking all the time the very image of -detected guilt. - -It is not necessary to state that Spencer Gale left immediately, and -never darkened our doors again. When, a little later, I had it out with -Phyllis, she declared, with a toss of the head, that she wouldn't have -taken him if there had been no other marriageable man living--that there -was only one husband for her, whom she intended to have whether we -liked it or not, even if she were forced to wait for him till she was an -old woman. I have often regretted that I did not control myself better, -but she, who had no excuse for violence, behaved like a perfect lunatic. -She went so far as to say she would never forgive me for the insults I -had heaped upon one--meaning Edmund Juke--who had no equal in the -universe, and who had saved her brother's life. Of course she did not -mean it--and I did not mean it--and we forgave each other long ago; but -I never hear the name of Spencer Gale without the memory of that -interview coming back to me, like a bitter taste in the mouth. - -He married about the same time as she did--a significant circumstance! -They say that he lost his boom money when the boom burst, and that he -drinks rather badly, and makes domestic scandals of various kinds. If he -does, it is no more than one might have expected, considering the -provocation. It is all very well for my family to repeat these tales to -his discredit, and then point to Edmund Juke in Collins Street gradually -climbing to the top of his profession; they think this is sufficient to -prove that they were always Solomons of wisdom, and I a fool of the -first magnitude. It does not occur to them that if some things had been -different, all things would have been different. The one man would never -have fallen into low habits if he had had Phyllis for his wife, and the -other would never have risen so high if he had not had her. That is how -I look at it. And as for material prosperity, no one could have foreseen -how things were going to turn out, and luck is like the rain that falls -on the just and on the unjust--it comes to the people who don't deserve -it quite as often as to those who do. - -For my part, I pay no heed to malicious gossip. There are always envious -persons ready and anxious to pull down those who are placed above them; -if they cannot find a legitimate pretext, they invent one. I see for -myself that he still lives in his beautiful Kew house, that his wife -still leads the fashion at every important social function and drives -the finest turn-out in Melbourne; that does not look as if they were so -very poor. And if one _could_ forgive infidelities in a married man, it -would be in the case of one tied to a painted creature who evidently -cares for nothing but display and admiration--to have her photograph -flaunted in the public streets, and herself surrounded by a crowd of -so-called smart people, flattering her vanity for the sake of her -husband's position. He may have a handsome establishment, but he cannot -have a _home._ So who can wonder if he seeks comfort elsewhere, and -flies to the bottle to drown his grief? It would have been very, very -different if my beautiful Phyllis had been at the head of affairs. - -However, if she is satisfied, it is not for me to say a word. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE SILVER WEDDING. - - -Emily went to her school in Melbourne, and I had to get another -governess for Lily. She was a horrid woman. I stood her for one quarter, -and then packed her off; and we had to pay her for six months, because -she threatened to sue us for breach of contract. The next that I -procured was a clever person enough, and not wanting in good manners, -but she ordered the servants about as if the house belonged to her, and -of course they resented it. So did I. Emily's gentle unobtrusiveness had -spoiled us for ways of that sort. Moreover, Miss Scott was terribly -severe upon Lily; the child was always in tears over lessons that were -too hard for her. I did not believe in overstraining a growing girl, and -ventured to remonstrate now and then on her behalf; but Miss Scott was -quite above taking advice from her elders and betters--as good as asked -me to mind my own business, or, at any rate, to allow her to know hers. -So I thought it best to make a change. - -And then I was deceived by false representations into engaging a widow -lady, who had seen better days. She was recommended to me as an -experienced teacher, having held situations in high families before her -marriage; and I naturally supposed that one who had been a mother -herself would be a safer guide for a young girl than one who had not. -But words cannot describe what a wretch that woman was. There is -something about widows--I don't know what it is--something that seems -almost improper--especially those that are by way of being young and -pretty, like Mrs. Underwood, though she was all forty, if she was a day, -in spite of her baby airs and graces and her butter-yellow hair. She had -the audacity to try and flirt with Tom, under cover of her pathetic -stories of her lost husband and children, and those better days that -were a pure invention; and he was too idiotically stupid--that is, too -innocent and simple-minded--to see what was so glaringly transparent to -everybody else. He used to think her an ill-used woman and pity her, and -think me hard and unfeeling because I didn't. Oh, never will I have a -widow about my house again! She entirely destroyed our domestic peace. -Things came to such a pass, indeed, that Tom even threatened--seriously, -and not in a joke--to get out his captain's certificate and return to -sea, because his home, that had always been so happy, had become -unbearable. - -She went at last, and then I felt that I had had enough of governesses. -Determined that I would never undergo such misery again, and at the same -time strongly objecting to boarding-schools for girls, there was nothing -for it but to superintend Lily's general studies myself, and take her -into town for special lessons. I did not like the job, and found her -very tiresome and disheartening; she seemed to mope, all alone, and -would not interest herself in anything. A girl in these days is never -satisfied with her mother for a companion, and after a time, when the -Jukes were settled in their Melbourne house, I was glad to let her go on -long visits to her sister. There she found plenty to occupy and amuse -her, while I sat solitary at home, working for them both. - -For I had no children left when she was away. The difficulty of the -governess was not the only trouble that resulted from Emily's desertion -of me. Harry also forsook the nest. He said it was inconvenient to live -so far from his office, though he had never thought of that while she -was with us, and that it would be better for business reasons to have a -lodging in town. I did not attempt to thwart him. And so, as soon as he -was strong enough to return to regular work--so valued was he by the -shipping firm which employed him that they had kept his situation open -during his illness--he took himself and a new bicycle to a stuffy -Melbourne suburb, where he would be in the way of meeting his beloved -frequently at the houses of her friends. - -I wanted to settle in Melbourne too, to be near them all. But our little -place was our own--a valuable property, yet unsaleable in these bad -times--and Tom said we could not afford it. Besides, I knew he would be -miserable cooped up in streets, and lost without his pigs and vegetable -garden. - -Thus we felt ourselves stranded on the shore while our young ones put to -sea--deserted in our old age--which, after all, is the common fate. Only -we were not in our old age, either of us. I have not a grey hair in my -head, even now, and have more than once been taken for Phyllis's elder -sister. On the day that she was married, when I wore pale heliotrope -relieved with white, I overheard old Captain Saunders--and a man of -eighty ought to be a judge--say to Mr. Welshman, "She's a pretty girl, -but her mother can beat her." And I should like to see the man of forty -who is the equal of what my husband was at fifty-five--or is at his -"present-day" age, which comes to little more. Tom is stout certainly, -but only in a dignified and commanding fashion; he can out-do Harry in -feats of strength, and his fine, bronzed face, with those keen blue eyes -in it, has a power of manliness that kings might envy. For the matter of -that, kings are not nearly so much of kings as he was accustomed to -being on board his ships. I know the lady passengers made themselves -ridiculous by the way they scrambled for his notice and a seat beside -him at the saloon table. - -To people like Mrs. Underwood, though she was really my contemporary, I -may seem very _passee_--no doubt I do--and a perfect granny to the -children, who regard youth and beauty as solely the prerogatives of -bread-and-butter misses in their teens; but--as Captain Saunders's -remark indicated--I am not too old to charm where I want to charm. No, -indeed; nor ever shall be--to one person, at all events. When Tom and I -woke up on our silver wedding morning and kissed each other, did we not -know what love meant as much and more than we had ever done, without -needing Juke and Phyllis, and Harry and his Emily to teach us? I should -think so, indeed! It seems to me that it _requires_ the fulness of many -years, fatherhood and motherhood in all stages and phases, innumerable -steps of painful experience climbed together, to bring us to the perfect -comprehension of love--the best love--that love in the lore of which -those children, who think themselves so knowing, are mere beginners, -with the alphabet to learn. - -And this, by the way--it has just this moment occurred to me--is the -kernel of the woman question, which seems so vastly complicated. Why, it -is as simple as it can possibly be. The whole thing is in a nutshell. -Those advocates and defenders of this and that, arguing so passionately -and inconclusively at such interminable length--how silly they are! You -have one set of people raving for female suffrage and equal rights and -liberties with tyrant man; you have another set of people storming at -them for thus ignoring the intentions of Nature, the interests of the -house and family. The intentions of Nature, indeed! The house and -family! When millions of poor women are old maids who haven't chosen to -be so!--who, of course, _could_ not choose to be so, unless -physiologically defective in some way or another. Poor, poor things! -They don't want equal rights with man, but equal rights with the lower -animals. As they don't know what they miss, they may be forgiven for the -way they speak of it in their books and speeches; but if they had it--if -all had it who by nature are entitled to it--there would be no more -woman question. I am quite convinced of that. Nature's intentions would -then really be fulfilled, and the other troubles of the case, all -secondary and contingent, would vanish. Of course they would. Man is not -a tyrant, bless him! The child is the only tyrant--the legitimate power -that keeps woman in her place. - -But, oh, how much that child does cost us! We give all freely, and would -give a thousand times more if we had it to give, for it is the most -precious of human privileges--the thing we really live for, though it is -inconvenient to admit it; but we pay with heart's blood, from the -beginning to the end. We pay so much and so constantly that it often -seems to me that the poor childless ones, undeveloped and inexperienced, -who cannot know the great joys of life, are also exempt from all sorrow -that is worthy of the name. - -Baby-rearing, absorbingly interesting though it be, is really a terrible -business; and the fewer the babies the worse it is. You hardly know what -it means to have a night's rest for dread of the ever-recurring -epidemics that so fatally ravage the nurseries of this country. Day and -night you have the shadow of the clinical thermometer, your sword of -Damocles, hanging over you, and are afraid to breathe lest you should -bring it down. Then, when this hair-whitening strain begins to slacken a -little and you think you are going to have an easy time, the children -that are now able to take care of themselves utterly refuse to do so. -Your girl goes wet-footed with a light heart, and you never see a -telegraph messenger coming to the house without expecting to hear that -your boy at school has broken his arm at football or his neck -bird's-nesting. They follow their mischievous devices, and you can't -help it; you can only cluck and fuss like a futile hen running round the -pond in which her brood of ducklings is splashing. That's worse than -baby-rearing, because you can at least do what you like with a baby. - -And then, when you pride yourself on having successfully got through the -long struggle, and you tell yourself that now they are going to be a -help and a comfort to you at last, off they go to the first stranger who -beckons to them, and think no more about you than of an old nurse who -has served her purpose--probably turning round to point out the errors -you have committed, and to show you how much better you would have done -if you had taken their advice. And that is worst of all. - -No trouble that I had had with mine, while they were with me, equalled -the trouble of being without them, especially on the silver wedding -morning, when I had, as it were, the field of my married life before me; -when I felt that a golden harvest was my due, and beheld a ravaged -garden with all its flowers plucked. It was my own fault that no letters -of congratulation came by the first post; I had purposely refrained from -reminding the children of the approaching anniversary, just to see if -they would remember it, and they had been too full of their own concerns -to give it a thought. Afterwards they scolded me for not telling them, -and were very repentant. I had no present either--that is, not on the -day. Tom had given me a silver _entree_ dish, and I had given him a -silver-mounted claret-jug; but we had made our purchases a week too -soon, and had been unable to keep the matter secret from each other. It -was a wet morning, and I, being the first downstairs, was greeted with -the smell of burnt porridge in the kitchen. I thought it too bad of Jane -to let such a thing happen on such an occasion, and a hardship that -rain should be running like tears down the breakfast-room window panes -when I so particularly wanted to be cheered. It was April, the month of -broken weather, and leaves were falling thickly on the beds and paths -outside. I surveyed the dripping prospect, and noted how impossible it -was to keep the weeds down, with the summer-warmed earth so moist; and I -turned back into the room to see a late-lit fire fading on the hearth, -and the children's empty chairs against the wall. - -Well, I sat down behind the two lonely tea-cups and bowed my head on the -table, on the point of tears--feeling that I too was a denuded autumn -tree, an outworn woman who had had her day. And then, before I could get -out my handkerchief, Tom came in. - -He kicked two logs together, and the dying fire sprang to life; he -opened a window, and the freshest and sweetest morning air poured in, -sprinkled with a gentle shower and hinting at coming sunshine. - -"What a lovely day we've got, eh, Polly? What a beautiful rain! This'll -bring the grass on, and make the land splendid for ploughing, hey? -What's the matter, old girl? Missing the children? Oh, well, they're -happy; we've nothing to fret about on their account--nor on our own -either--and that's more than most people can say on their silver wedding -morning. Porridge spoilt? Oh, that's no matter--we have something better -than porridge. Here, Jane! Jane! Bring in the you know what, if you've -got 'em ready." - -Jane came in, smiling, with the new _entree_ dish in her hands. Tom -watched it with gleeful eyes, and assisted to place it on the table. It -was his little surprise for me--mushrooms, to which I am extravagantly -partial--the first of the season. He had gone to Melbourne the day -before to buy them, and it was her absorption in the task of cooking -them delicately which had caused Jane to neglect the porridge--Tom's -first course at every breakfast. - -"There" said he, as he lifted the shining lid. He was as pleased as a -boy with his plot and its _denouement._ - -"Oh, you _precious!_" I responded; and the gratitude he expected brought -tears to my eyes. "No one _ever_ had such a husband as mine!" - -He beamed complacently, and sat down beside me, inconveniently close. -With his arm round my waist, he helped me to pour out the coffee, and -spilled it on the cloth; he fed me with the best of the mushrooms and -morsels of beef steak, and wiped gravy from my lips with his own napkin. -He seemed to feel that I needed some extra comfort to make up for the -children's absence, though he said repeatedly that it was only fitting -we should have our wedding-day, whether gold, silver, or pewter, to -ourselves. - -"As for you," he said, "I declare you don't look a day older than when I -married you, Polly. Oh, well, a little fuller in the figure, perhaps; -but that's an improvement. Old Saunders is quite right--you can beat -the young girls still." - -I told him he could beat the young men in the making of pretty speeches, -and I pretended not to believe his flatteries; but I knew that he meant -every word he said, being the sincerest of men. And my spirits rose by -leaps and bounds, until I felt even younger than I looked, and like a -real bride once more, just as if those strenuous intermediate years had -dropped out of the calendar. The barometer was rising too. Before we had -finished our mushrooms the rain had all passed off, and the sun was -shining on a clean and fragrant earth. Everything outside glittered and -shimmered. It was a thoroughly bridal morning, after all. - -"And now, what shall we do?" my husband inquired, having lit his pipe -and taken a rapid glance over the newspaper. "We must do something to -celebrate the day. What shall it be?" - -"It doesn't much matter what, so long as we do it together," was my -reply. "But I think I should like to go out somewhere, shouldn't you? -It is going to be the perfection of weather." - -"Oh, we'll go out, of course. We'll have a day's sight-seeing, and our -lunch in town. Let's see"--we studied the "Amusements" column, as we had -so often seen the children do--"there's the Cyclorama; we have never -seen the Cyclorama yet, and I'm told it's splendid." - -"And it is years since we were at the Picture Gallery," I remarked. -"There must be dozens of pictures there that we have never seen." - -"We might go to the Zooelogical Gardens. If there was one thing more than -another that I was fond of as a boy it was a wild beast show. They feed -them at four o'clock." - -"Yes, and the seals at the Aquarium too. I remember seeing the seals fed -at Exhibition time. It was most interesting." - -"And they've got Deeming at the Waxworks, Harry says----" - -"Oh, Tom--waxworks! However, I don't see why we shouldn't go to -waxworks if we feel inclined. We are free agents. There is nobody to -criticise us now." - -I began to feel that it was really almost a relief to be without the -children, just for once in a way. Children are so dreadfully severe and -proper in their views of what fathers and mothers ought to do. - -"Well, go and get your things on," said my husband, "while I have a look -round outside." - -He dashed off to see that pigs and fowls were fed, and the boy started -on his day's work; and I ran into the kitchen to tell Jane not to cook -anything, and upstairs to change my dress and put on my best bonnet. In -our haste to make the most of our holiday, we frisked about like young -dogs let off the chain. It did not matter how undignified it looked, -since there was nobody to laugh at us. - -Before ten o'clock we were off, and before eleven we were in Melbourne, -sliding up Collins Street on a tram dummy, on our way to the Cyclorama. -The Picture Gallery had been set down as a first item of the -programme--it opened at ten, and one had the place to one's self during -the forenoon--but afterwards we put it at the bottom of the list, and -finally struck it out altogether. Our feeling was that we could do -pictures at any time--pictures were things young people would thoroughly -approve of as an amusement for parents--but that we could not always do -exactly as we liked. So we went to the Cyclorama first, and were so -intensely interested that we stayed there nearly an hour. We had read of -the battle of Waterloo in our school books, but never realised it in the -least; now we were like eye-witnesses of the fight, and the whole thing -was clear to us. A soldier amongst the spectators pointed out a number -of mistakes in the arrangements of troops and guns, but we did not -understand them, and did not want to; indeed, we would not listen to -him. We moved round and round in our dark watch-tower to the quiet -places, and gazed over the far-stretching fields with more delight than -our first peep-show at an English fair had given us. The illusion of -distance was so complete that it corrected all crudities of detail, and -we simply lost ourselves in the romance of the past and our own -imaginations. - -"Never saw anything so wonderful in my life," said Tom, as at last we -tore ourselves away. "I seem to smell that chateau burning, and to hear -those poor chaps groaning with their wounds. I'm glad we went, aren't -you, Polly?" - -I truthfully replied that I was very glad indeed, and we emerged into -the street, and he hailed a passing tram. Again we took our places on -the dummy, that we might see and feel as much of the bright day as -possible. Melbourne was still gay and busy, in spite of gloomy -commercial forecasts, and the weather was all that a perfect autumn -morning could make it. The sun shone now with an evident intention to -continue doing so till bed-time, and we basked in it on the dummy seat -like two cats. - -"What shall we do next?" asked Tom, consulting his watch. "It is not -near lunch-time yet. We must get an appetite for the sort of meal I mean -to have to-day." - -Before we could make up our minds what to do next, the tram had carried -us into Burke Street, and lo! there was the temple of the waxworks -staring us in the face. Tom signalled the conductor, and we jumped off, -hand in hand, and without a word made our way to the door of the show -which we had heard even young children speak of as beneath -contempt--only fit for bloodthirsty schoolboys of the lower orders and -louts from the country who knew no better. - -Well, we were from the country; and, whatever the artistic shortcomings -of this exhibition, it had the charm of novelty at any rate. Neither of -us had been to waxworks since we were taken as infants to Madame -Tussaud's. This was a far cry from Madame Tussaud's, but I must confess -that it amused us very well for half an hour. The effigies were full of -humour, and the instruments of torture in the chamber of horrors very -real and creepy. Also there were some relics of old colonial days that -were decidedly interesting. In short, we did not feel that we had wasted -time and two shillings when we had gone through the place, though we -pretended to have done so, laughing at each other, saying, "How silly we -are!" - -"Well, let's be silly," said Tom, at last. "There's no law against that, -that I know of." - -"None whatever," I gaily responded. "There's nobody to----" - -"Hush!" he exclaimed, interrupting what I was going to say with a sharp -snatch at my arm. We were just leaving the waxworks, and he pulled me -back within the door. - -"What's the matter?" I cried, bewildered by his sudden action and tone -of alarm. - -"Come back--come back!" he whispered excitedly. "For Heaven's sake, -don't let her see us!" - -"Who? who?" - -He pointed to the street, and I had a momentary glimpse of our daughter -Phyllis going by in her husband's buggy. Edmund, in his tall town hat, -which glittered in the sun, was driving her himself; she sat beside him -under her parasol, calm, matronly, dignified, a model of all propriety. -How would she have looked if she had seen her mother coming out of the -waxworks? It was quite a shock to think of it. - -"She has been shopping," said Tom casually, "and Ted's been out after -patients, and has picked her up, sending the groom home. It isn't every -Collins Street doctor who'd let his wife be seen with him in the -professional vehicle. Ted's a good fellow and a first-rate husband. We -have a lot to be thankful for, Polly." - -"We have," I assented, drawing a long breath of relief. For the moment I -was most thankful that my dear girl, whom I had so yearned for, was out -of sight. The coast was clear, and we sallied forth once more in pursuit -of our own devices. Being still not quite as hungry as Tom desired, we -strolled around the block and looked in at the shop windows--the -florists, the milliners, the photographers. - -"Do you remember," said Tom, as we gazed upon a galaxy of Melbourne -beauties smiling down upon the street, "how we had our likenesses taken -in our wedding clothes?" - -"And, oh, such clothes!" I interjected. "A flounced skirt over a -crinoline, a spoon bonnet----" - -"It was the image of you, my dear, and I wouldn't part with that picture -for the world. I say, let's go and be done now. I'd like a memento of -this day, to look at when the golden wedding comes. Just as you are, in -that nice tailor tweed--in your prime, Polly." - -I told him it was nonsense, but he would have it. The people said they -would be ready for us at 2.30, and when we had had an immense lunch, and -were both looking red and puffy after it, we were photographed together, -like any pair of cheap trippers--I sitting in an attitude, with my head -screwed round, he standing over me, with a hand on my shoulder. The -result may now be seen in a handsome frame on his smoking-room -mantelpiece; He thinks it beautiful. - -After the operation we had a cup of tea in the nearest restaurant, and -by that time it was too late to think of the Zooelogical Gardens, which -closed at five, and required a whole day to reveal all their treasures. -But we thought we might be in time to see the seals fed, and so took -tram again for the Exhibition building. As we entered the Aquarium -through the green gloom of the Fernery, we heard the creatures barking, -and saw the keeper walking towards the tanks with his basket of fish. We -were in good time, and there was no great crowd to-day, so that we could -stand close to the iron bars and see all the tricks of the man and the -beasts, which were unspeakably funny. I don't know when I have laughed -so much as I laughed that afternoon. And Tom was just as much amused as -I was. - -But when the last fish had been thrown and caught, and we sat down on a -bench to rest for a minute, he fell suddenly silent, and I thought he -appeared a little tired. - -"I know what it is," I said, looking at him. "You are just dying for a -pipe." - -"No," he answered; "at least, not particularly. But I'll tell you what I -do seem to long for, Polly, and that's a sight of blue water. Looking at -those creatures diving and splashing somehow reminds me of it. I haven't -seen the sea for months." - -"Oh, you poor boy!" I exclaimed, jumping up. "Why didn't you say so at -first--at the beginning of the day? I never once thought of it. Of -course we ought to have been beside the sea on our silver -wedding-day--the sea that married us in the beginning--or else on it. -Let us get down to Swanston Street at once, and take a St. Kilda tram. -There is time to reach the pier before the sun goes down, and we can -stay there till dark, and dine at the Esplanade. It will be a nice long -ride, and you can have your pipe on the dummy as we go." - -"All right," he said, with renewed alacrity. "Mind you, Polly, I -couldn't have enjoyed the day more than I have done, so far as it has -gone; but a sniff of brine to top up with will just make it perfect." - -So we had our sniff of brine. It took three-quarters of an hour to get -it, but the drive was delightful in the fresh evening air; the rain had -laid the dust of that dustiest of Melbourne roads, and C-spring -barouches are not easier to travel in than the cable tramcars on it. Tom -had the comfort of his pipe, allowable on the dummy; and the scent of -his good tobacco, which the breeze carried from me, was a scent I loved -for its associations' sake. When we got to St. Kilda the sun was low; no -effect of atmosphere and sea water could have been more lovely. It was -only bay water, to be sure, but it was salt, and it sufficed. We called -in at the hotel to order our dinner, and walked down and out to the end -of the pier, and sat there silently until the ruddy full moon rose. At -night, when all was white and shining, we returned there and sat for an -hour more, hand in hand. - -"What it must be," said Tom, soliloquising, "outside!" - -"Ah-h!" I sighed deeply. The same thought had been in both our minds all -through the silence which he had broken with his remark. If he had not -made it, I should have done so. In imagination we were "outside" -together, as in our youth; the scent of sea in the brisk air had acted -on us like the familiar touch of a mesmerist on a subject long -surrendered to his power; the nostalgia of the seafarer, the -sea-lover--which is a thing no other person can understand--had taken -hold of us; it was as if some long silent mother-voice called to us -across the bay, "Come home, come home!" - -Near us, sheltered in the angle of the pier, a bunch of sail boats -tugged gently at their ropes; the flopping, squelching sound made by the -run of the tide between and under them was sweet in our ears, like an -old song. A little way off some yachts of the local club lay each at its -own moorings, a hull and a bare pole, ink-black on the shining water. -Tom was no yachtsman, of course; he even had a contempt for the modern -egg-shell craft, all sail and spar, in which the young men out of the -shops and offices raced for cups on summer Saturdays; they were as -children's toys in his estimation. But a boat is a boat, and, feeling as -I did, and thinking of the remark he had made in the Aquarium, and how I -had unaccountably forgotten what we ought to have done on our silver -wedding-day, I said-- - -"Why shouldn't we have a silver honeymoon, and spend it at sea?" - -Though he did not answer at once, and though his face was turned from me -towards an incoming steamer, a distant streak of shadow sprinkled with -lights, that he was trying to identify, I knew that he jumped straight -at the suggestion with all his heart. - -"Hm-m," he mused; "ha-hm-m. That's not a bad idea of yours, Polly. I -daresay it might be done, if you think you'd like it. We have no -children to tie us at home--Harry would keep an eye on the pigs and -things--it would do us all the good in the world--by Jove, yes!" He sat -erect and alert. "Why, the very thought of it makes me feel twenty years -younger. I don't see why we shouldn't have a silver honeymoon while we -are about it. But what sort of a trip do you fancy? Portland and -Warrnambool? Tasmania? New Zealand? I'm afraid Europe is a bit too large -an order." - -"Nothing of that sort at all," I urged; "but something that we can do -all by ourselves, without being interfered with." I pointed to the boats -near us. "A yachting cruise to some of the places I have never seen, if -you could find a strong, homely sort of yacht, with bulwarks and a cabin -in it. Perhaps a hired man or two--yes, that would even give us greater -freedom--if there was a place for them to sleep in away from us." - -I enlarged upon my idea, while he listened and nodded, proposing -amendments here and there; then he jumped up in his resolute way, -lifting me with him. - -"Let us get home and to bed," said he, "and I'll be up first thing in -the morning to see about it. We must save this weather and the moon--the -honeymoon, Polly." - -We bustled back to town. And whom should we meet in the tram but an old -brother salt, who knew exactly what we wanted and where it was to be -had--a stout, yawl-rigged craft with something beside lead keel under -water, not too smart to look at, but able to travel, and warranted safe -"outside" as no ordinary pleasure yacht could be. One day sufficed to -stock this vessel with our requirements, and on the morning of the next -we set sail, with one quiet man for crew, and a minute dinghy behind us, -bound for no port in particular, and to no programme--determined to be -free for once, if we never were again. The children thought us quite -silly, naturally. I believe Harry felt it something of a hardship to -have to give up Emily's society occasionally for the sake of the pigs, -and I am sure, though I did not hear them, that Phyllis and Lily made -remarks on their poor dear mother's erratic fancies, and the way poor -father gave in to them. Phyllis took the opportunity of my absence to -"settle up the house," as she called it--meaning my house, and that -matters there had fallen into a sad state since she had ceased to -superintend them. - -But we were emancipated now. We were out of school. I was able to -wear--what they had considered inappropriate for years--a hat to keep -off the hot sea sunshine, which burns old faces as badly as young ones; -and I could fish, and paddle barefoot, and sing, and talk nonsense to -Tom to my heart's content, with no sense of appearing ridiculous or -undignified to anybody. The crew was an old Bendigo hand, about the age -of my father, devoted to us both; and Tom was like a boy again, with the -tiller in his hand. What ages it was since he had steered a sailing -boat, of any sort or size! Yet even I could tell the difference in a -moment, as soon as he took the helm. Not only did he make the yawl do -exactly what he wanted, but he seemed to know exactly what _she_ wanted -as well. It was the same sort of sympathy as that between a perfect -rider and a horse that thoroughly understands and trusts him. Some -people--good seamen in everything else--can never steer like that, -although they may have been a lifetime at it. It is an instinct, like -good riding, inherited and not acquired. Tom's people had been sailors -since the Battle of the Nile. - -How he _did_ love it, to be sure! And _what_ a holiday that was! We had -our little discomforts of various kinds, and I was seasick for a night -and seedy all the day afterwards; but these trifles were of no account -in the sum of our vast enjoyment, and cannot even be remembered now. -Looking back on that cruise--that last cruise--perhaps the very last in -life--it is one idyllic dream, simply. I find it hard to believe that it -could have happened in such a prosaic world. - -I daresay that much of the fairyland feeling was due to weather. There -is no weather on earth like Australian weather for making holiday -in--that is, when it is good. What fell to us on this memorable occasion -was as good as good could be--fine and fresh by day, calm and beautiful -by night, with various effects of moonlight, each sweeter than the rest. -The beginnings of the days were the best of them, perhaps. We went to -bed betimes--in that not too spacious chamber of ours between the big -and the little masts--and so were ready to see the sunrise, to bathe -ourselves in the clean, sharp, early morning air, to set about clearing -up the cabin, airing the mattresses on deck, frying the eggs and bacon -or newly caught fish, and cooking the coffee over the spirit stove, -before the land people were astir, every vein in our bodies thrilling to -the salt breeze, tingling with health, and our appetites keen as razors. -Later, we would visit the shore for provisions, for newspapers, for a -hotel meal, to send inquiring telegrams to our family and await replies, -to amuse ourselves with a ramble in the bush or through the bay -watering-places whose summer season had ebbed away from them. Later -still, I lay prone on deck, snoozing over a novel, while Tom and the -crew sailed the boat, and smoked, and talked shop in contented growls, a -couple of sentences at a time. Then tea, and washing up, and the fishing -lines got out; and the sweet twilight that, when it became darkness, was -too cold to sit in; and the lamp lit in the little -cabin--yawns--bed--the stirless sleep of nerves at peace and digestion -in perfect order. - -It was almost the same "outside" as in--not a cat's-paw squall molested -us. There was sea enough for good sea-sailing, but not enough to wet me -or my little house below--not till we got to Warrnambool, where, being -weather-bound for a day or two, we had the joy of seeing great breakers -again. They thundered on the rocky shore like cannons going off; they -flung foam over the breakwater; they would not let the Flinders come in. -We sat on a brown boulder a whole morning and a whole afternoon to look -at and listen to them, as one would listen to some archangel of a -Paderewski. - -Ah me, how happy we were! The second honeymoon, like the second -wedding-day, was miles better than the first. We married for love, if -two people ever did, not having fifty pounds between us, but my old -bridegroom was a truer lover than my young one. He said the same of his -old bride. We were like travellers that have climbed to a noble -mountain-top and sit down to rest and survey the arduous road by which -they came--all rosy in the bloom of sunset--and the poor things still -struggling up, not seeing what they head for. I never had such a rest in -my life before, and we had never, in all our twenty-five years of dear -companionship, been at such perfect peace together. There was only one -little cloud, and that passed in a moment. Tom said--it was a mere -thoughtless jest, for he did not mean to be unkind--that our divine -tranquillity was due to there being no person near for me to be jealous -of. I ought to have laughed at such an obviously absurd remark, but I am -dreadfully sensitive to anything like injustice, and was foolish enough -to feel hurt that he could say such a thing, even in fun. _I_ jealous! -I may have my faults--nobody is perfect in this world--but at least I -cannot be justly accused of condescending to petty ones of that sort. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -GRANDMAMMA. - - -"Good-morning, Grandmamma!" - -I was in my kitchen after breakfast, seeing about the dinner--calmly -slicing French beans, because it was Monday morning and Jane was helping -the washwoman--when I was suddenly accosted in this extraordinary way. -With a jump that might have caused me to cut my fingers, I turned my -head, and there in the doorway stood my son-in-law, Edmund Juke, panting -from his bicycle, and grinning idiotically, as if he had said something -very funny. By what he had said, and by the expression of his face, and -by seeing him miles away from his consulting-room at that hour of the -day, I knew, of course, what had happened. My heart was in my mouth. - -"What--what--you don't say--not really?" I gasped, scattering the beans, -cut and uncut, together about the floor as I sprang to meet him. "Why, -it isn't nearly time yet!" - -"Oh yes, it is," said he. "Everything is all right. The finest boy you -ever saw, and she doing as well as possible. I would not let any one but -myself bring you the good news, Mater dear"--and here he kissed me, more -affectionately than usual--"ill as I could spare the time. I knew you'd -be easier in your mind, too----" - -"But I am _not_ easy in my mind," I broke in, excessively concerned -about my child, and beginning to see that I had not been fairly treated -in the matter. "I am quite sure it is premature, whatever you may say. -Phyllis distinctly gave me to understand that it was a month off, at -least. Otherwise should I be here?" - -"It is an easy thing to make mistakes about, as you know. I can assure -you there is nothing wrong in any way. You must allow a medical -man--two medical men, for Errington attended her--to be the judge of -that," said he, with the airs a young doctor gives himself when he has -begun to make a name. - -I was indeed thankful to hear him say so, but still I could not quite -understand it. I wondered if it were possible--but no, it could not be! -The cruel suspicion having entered my mind, however, I felt obliged to -speak of it. - -"I am not to suppose, am I, that Phyllis _wished_ to deceive her own -mother--and on such a point?" - -Edmund at once replied, stormily, that I was certainly not to suppose -any such preposterous thing; but he protested over much, I thought, and -grew red in the face as he did so. I thought it not improbable that _he_ -had suggested my being put off the scent--he, who seemed to have known -just when the baby was to be expected; afterwards I was sure of it. My -own dear girl would have been incapable of such an idea. - -I asked Edmund the hour at which the event had taken place. He said at a -little before three that morning. It was now between nine and ten--as I -pointed out. He said they had all been glad of a little sleep after -their excitement, and that he had come as soon as he could get away. He -had also ridden at racing pace, averaging I don't know how many miles an -hour. No, the buggy would not have been quicker, even with a pair, and -he had wanted his wheel for refreshment and exercise. Of course he could -not take me back on it, but there was no hurry about that. He had left -Phyllis sleeping as soundly as a top, and the longer she was undisturbed -the better. - -"Certainly," I said, with rigid face and shaking heart. "And it is right -that I should be there to see that she is undisturbed. I ought to have -been there _hours_ ago, Edmund, and I can't _think_ why you did not send -for me--her own mother--the very _first_ person who should have been -informed." - -He began to make all sorts of lame excuses. - -"You see, Mater dear, the telegraph offices are not open on Sundays." - -"Was it Sunday? So long ago as yesterday? And where were the buggy and -the bicycle--not to speak of the trains?" - -"The buggy and the bicycle were there, but I had to send the groom -hunting for Errington, and of course I could not leave her myself. There -was not a soul to take a message to you, Mater dear. Besides, there was -no earthly use in giving you an upset for nothing. We soon saw that -everything was going on beautifully--otherwise, of _course_, you would -have been fetched at once--and so we thought you might as well be spared -all the worry--you would have worried frightfully, you know--and that we -would give you a pleasant surprise when it was all over. And now you -don't seem half grateful to us for being so thoughtful about you." - -He laughed at this poor joke. I could not laugh. My heart was too full. - -"Poor, poor, _poor_ girl!" I passionately exclaimed. "To face that trial -for the first time--terrified to death, naturally----" - -"Oh dear, no," he interposed, in his flippant way. "I am proud to inform -you that Phyllis conducted herself like a perfect lady. She was as calm -as possible." - -"How can you tell how calm she was?" I thundered at him. "You know -nothing about it, though you are a doctor. _I_ know--I know what she had -to go through! And no one near her to help her with a word of comfort, -except a hired person--one of your precious hospital nurses that are -mere iron-nerved machines--women who might as well be men for all the -feelings they've got!" - -"But she had--she had," cried Edmund, hastily. "She had my mother near -her--one of the kindest old souls that ever breathed." - -"_What?_" - -I stared at him, petrified with astonishment and indignation. _His_ -mother assisting at the confinement of _my_ daughter! And _I_ shut out! -I could not believe it for the moment--that they would deliberately put -such an insult upon me. - -Edmund said it was not done deliberately, but was a pure accident. "It -just happened," he said, "that she chanced to be in the house yesterday. -She came in after morning church, as she often does, and seeing that -something was up----" - -"What--as early as yesterday morning!" I burst out, thoroughly and -justifiably angry now, and not caring to hide it. "You mean to say -Phyllis was taken ill in the _morning_, Edmund, and you did not let me -know? Oh, this is too much!" - -Of course he hastened to excuse himself--with what I feel sure, though I -am sorry to say it, was a barefaced lie. He declared she was not taken -ill in the morning--not until quite late in the day--but that she was a -little restless and nervous, and his mother had stayed to cheer her. - -"Mother is such a bright, calm-minded, capable old body," he said--as if -I were a dull, hysterical fool--"and she has had such swarms upon -swarms of children, and such oceans of sick-nursing, and Phyllis is so -fond of her, and as you were not get-at-able, Mater dear----" - -Oh, it was sickening! I hadn't patience to listen to him, with his -"Mater dears" and his hypocritical pretences. I saw clearly that it had -been what Harry would call a put-up thing; he had preferred old Mrs. -Juke--a woman of no education, with a figure like a sack of flour tied -round the middle--to me. I suppose his friends had been twitting him -about the tyrannical mother-in-law, in the vulgar conventional way; or -he had been afraid that I would dispute his authority and orders in the -sick-room; or perhaps, to do him justice--he had thought nothing of an -affair which was in his daily experience, although it was his own wife -concerned. In any case, I was sure that Phyllis had not been to blame. -However fond she might be of Mrs. Juke--and probably she feigned -affection to some extent, for her husband's sake --it was her own -mother she would long for at such a time. And her mother she should -have, or I'd know the reason why. - -"It is not my fault that I was un-get-at-able yesterday," I said to -Edmund, quietly but firmly. "At any rate I am get-at-able now. I see you -are in a fidget to be after your patients--go, my dear, and tell her I -will be with her in an hour or two. Oh, I daresay there _is_ no -hurry--from your point of view; I am of a different opinion. I am a -woman--_and_ a mother; I understand these things. You don't--and never -could--not if you were fifty times a doctor." - -"All right," he returned cheerfully, or with assumed cheerfulness. "I am -sure she will be delighted to see you. Only we shall have to keep her -very quiet for the next few days--not let her talk and argue and excite -herself, you know----" - -I laughed--I could not help it--and waved him off. I told him to get -himself some beer, or whatever he fancied, and not to suppose that he -could teach me mother's duties at my time of life. And in a few minutes -he went flying back to town, and I sought my dear husband, where he was -busy digging in the vegetable garden, and flung myself weeping into his -grubby arms. - -Tom, too, was quite overcome. Not nearly so surprised as I expected him -to be, but tremulous in his agitation, and almost speechless at first. -For a tough old sailor as he is, he has the softest heart I know. - -"My little girl!" he murmured huskily, and cleared his throat again and -again. "And it was only the other day that she was a baby herself. Makes -us feel very ancient, don't it?" - -"_No_," I returned emphatically. "I don't feel ancient in the _very_ -least. And you, my dear, are in your prime. It is simply an absurdity -that we should be grandparents." - -"Well, it does seem rather ridiculous in your case," he rejoined--my -sweet old fellow!--"with your brown hair and bright eyes and figure -straight as a dart. But I----" - -"But you," I insisted, "are just as handsome as ever you were--worth a -dozen priggish little whipper-snappers like Edmund Juke." - -"Oh! What has Edmund Juke been doing?" - -"He let her be ill yesterday--_all_ yesterday--and never sent for me to -be with her!" I sobbed, feeling sure of sympathy here, if nowhere else. -"Did you ever know of a mother being treated so before?" - -But Tom--even Tom--was unsympathetic and disappointing. He did not -exclaim and protest on my behalf--did not seem to see how unnatural it -was, and what a slight had been put upon me--but just patted my shoulder -and stroked my hair, as if I were a mere fretful child. - -"If you ask me," he said, when I pressed him to speak his mind, "I must -say that I think they showed their sense, Polly. And it's a great relief -to me, my dear, on your account. You are so highly strung, pet, that you -can't stand things like other people. You'd have been worse than -Phyllis. Whereas a placid old Gamp like Mother Juke----" - -"_Tom!_" I broke in sharply. "_Who_ told you that Mother Juke was -there?" - -"Nobody," said he, with a disconcerted look. "I only thought it likely -that she might be. Was she not?" - -"She was. But I want to know why you concluded that she was, when I had -not mentioned the fact?" - -"I didn't conclude it. I only knew that she was keeping an eye on the -child, being so experienced, and living so handy." - -"How did you know?" - -"Ted told me--in a casual way--a good bit ago--I forget exactly -when----" - -"Tom----" - -But Tom pulled out his watch hastily, plainly anxious to avoid the -corner he felt himself being pushed into. - -"Look here, Polly, if you want to catch that train, and have to pack -your bag before you start, there's not a minute to lose. Now that she -knows you know, she'll be looking out for you--wanting to show her baby -to her mother, bless her little heart! And a fine boy too. I'm glad the -first is a boy--though I'm sure I don't know why I should be, for the -girls are far and away the best, to my thinking--girls that grow up to -be good and pretty women, treasures to the lucky men who get them--like -you." - -Silly fellow! But he means it all. There are no empty pretences about -Tom. To him there is one perfect being in the world, and that's his -wife. It comforted me to feel that I was appreciated in one quarter, -whatever I might be in others, and the mention of the baby made me -forget everything but my longing to have him in my arms. - -"I will go at once," I said, "and you must come too, dearest. You must -support me against the Juke faction. You must see that your child's -mother has her rights." - -"Oh, rights be blowed!" he replied, rather rudely. "There's nobody will -dream of disputing them. You don't know what a humble-minded, unselfish, -dear old soul that mother of Ted's is; she wouldn't deny the rights of -a sucking-pig--let alone an important person like you." - -"Your mind is always running on pigs," I laughed. "And I am sure that -old creature is just like a great sow fattened up for the Agricultural -Show. She grunts as she walks--if you can call it walking--and you -almost want bullocks to get her out of an armchair when she has once -sunk into it." - -"Well, that isn't her fault," Tom commented, grave as a judge. - -"Of course it isn't," I acquiesced. "She is getting into years now." - -"So are we all." - -"Yes. But she is fifteen years older than I am, if she's a day." - -"Fifteen years'll fly over _us_ before we know it, Polly. And then _you_ -won't like to be crowed over, I'll bet." - -"Who's crowing? I merely state a fact. She is." - -"Then all the more reason why you should be grateful to her." - -"Grateful to her for usurping my rights----" - -"Nonsense!" - -He had one of his short moods on him, when it is better not to argue -with him. Besides, there was no time for argument. He led the way to the -house, pulling down his shirt-sleeves. He said he would have a wash and -put on his coat and take me to Phyllis's house, and see the baby if -allowed to do so; but he would not promise to stay more than a few -minutes. He did not want, he said, to put them about, when already they -had so much to attend to. Talk of humble-mindedness! His -humble-mindedness makes me want to shake him sometimes. Off the sea he -seemed to forget that he was a commander--a character that Nature -intended him to maintain, wherever he was. One had but to look at him to -see that. - -I had to make so many preparations for his comfort and for the proper -safeguarding of Lily in my absence, which I supposed likely to run into -a week or two, that it was noon before I could be ready to set forth. -So I yielded to Tom's suggestion that we should have our usual one -o'clock dinner before starting, and drive ourselves to town in the -afternoon. He wanted to take in the buggy for stores. He could see me -"comfortably settled," he said, and do his necessary business at the -same time. - -Alas! How little we anticipated the circumstances of the return journey! -No one could have been happier than I, as I sat beside him behind our -fast-trotting Parson--we called him Parson because of his peculiar -rusty-black colour and a white mark on his chest--talking of the -grandchild we were going to see, and all the family affairs involved in -his arrival. It never crossed our minds for a moment that he was -bringing, not peace, but a sword. - -In our excess of considerateness we drove to livery stables, and there -put up our trap; then we walked quietly to Phyllis's house, and Tom -slunk away somewhere, like a rat into a hole, as soon as we were -admitted. His anxiety to be "out of the road" was really undignified. -Of course I made straight for my daughter's room. - -The large dining-room was full of waiting patients; I counted three -women and a child as I passed up the hall. Whatever Edmund's faults, he -is one of the cleverest and most sought after doctors in Melbourne. I -have heard Mary Welshman and others boasting about Fitzherbert, and -Groom, and Sewell, and the rest, but not one of them is to be named in -the same day with my son-in-law. Phyllis was obliged to use a little -room on the first floor for meals, on account of the lower part of the -house being so overrun; and the poor parlourmaid spent her entire time -in answering the door. - -Creeping upstairs, with my noiseless, sick-room step, I met old Mother -Juke, as Tom calls her, lumping down, with the gait of a rheumatic -elephant. She seemed to shake the very street. How my poor child could -stand such a woman about her, at such a time, I could not imagine; it -would have driven me into a fever. Of course she is kind and -well-meaning enough--she can't help her age and her physical -infirmities--I know that. And it is quite true that she has been a great -nurse in her day. But her day is past. - -"Good-morning, Mrs. Juke," I said pleasantly, as we met and paused on a -little landing at the turn of the stairs, "you are here early." - -Scarcely had I opened my mouth when the mountain fell on me, as it were; -the old thing put her huge arms about my neck and kissed me. I have -always objected to being slobbered over by comparative strangers, and I -did not return the kiss; nevertheless I treated her with the courtesy -that I felt due to my son-in-law's mother. - -"And so," I said, smiling, "you have all been conspiring together to -steal a march on me! You have been jumping my claim, as the miners -say--defrauding a poor woman of her natural rights." - -"Nothing of the sort, my dear," she replied, in her fat voice--and if -there is one thing that I dislike more than another is to be -"my-deared" in this promiscuous fashion. "You were best out of it, with -your feeling heart. It would only have upset you, my dear, and that -would have upset her; and then Ted would have been in a way, and Captain -Braye would have blamed us. I am sure _he_ is grateful, if nobody else -is." - -"He is nothing of the sort," I cried, flaming. "My husband is perfectly -astounded at the way I have been shut out. He never heard of such a -thing as a mother being set aside at such a time." - -She was at a loss for an answer to this, so fell back upon praises of -the baby and of Phyllis's satisfactory condition. There was nothing, she -said, that could give me the faintest cause for uneasiness, nor had been -from the first--nor would be, provided she were kept quiet and free from -all excitement. And we ought to be humbly thankful that this was so--to -feel nothing but joy that she had done so excellently, and that the -child was so strong and beautiful. - -"That is all very well," I remarked. "But that is not the point. What I -want to know is--and I intend to have an answer--whose doing it was that -I was not sent for yesterday morning?--that I was kept in utter -ignorance of the most important event that has ever occurred in my -family--when, for all you people did to prevent it, my daughter might -have died without my seeing her again!" - -We were now in the little first-floor sitting-room, just off the stairs. -It was between three and four, and the luncheon things were not cleared -away. Indeed the house seemed completely disorganised, having no one to -look after it. Old Mrs. Juke, who did not seem to notice this, stood -just within the door, puffing like a porpoise, and trying to look -dignified, which was quite impossible. - -"I am very sorry you take it in this way," she said, in a hoity-toity -tone. "We may have made a mistake, but, if we did, we made it with the -best intentions. All we thought of was to save you useless pain. We -knew your nervous, anxious temperament, and how keenly you feel anything -affecting your children; and so we decided----" - -"It was not a matter for you to decide," I broke in, with natural -asperity. "I am neither a baby nor an idiot. I have at least as much -sense as any one in this house--I should be sorry for myself, indeed, if -I had not--and I prefer to attend to my own business, if it's all the -same to you. Whether I should be here, or whether I should not, was for -_me_ to say--for me and for my daughter. She, I am very certain, had no -part in shutting me out; and she ought to have been considered, if I was -not." - -"It was she," said Mrs. Juke, "who wished it most. Her one desire was to -spare you." - -"I don't believe it." - -"I am sorry if you don't believe it." The old thing shook like -blancmange in hot weather. "I can only say that it is perfectly true." - -"I will ask her if it is true--that she wished to have strangers with -her in place of her own mother." - -I started to cross the landing to Phyllis's room, and my teeth were set, -and my heart was thumping with an emotion that I could scarcely -control--but I need not say I did control it. Mrs. Juke hung on to me to -stop me, pleading that Phyllis and the baby were fast asleep together, -and must not be disturbed; and I asked her how she, who had been a -mother fifteen times, could insult a mother by supposing that she would -be less careful of a sick child than anybody else. If I had gone in -alone I am sure she would not have heard me--Tom says that I walk about -the house as if shod with feathers--but Mrs. Juke would come too, and -there was no hushing that solid tread. I saw my darling start up from -the pillow, frightened out of her sleep by the noise, and the flush come -into her cheeks. And Mrs. Juke cried "There!" reproachfully, as if it -had been my fault. - -At the same moment another stranger came out of Edmund's dressing-room, -and turned upon me like a perfect fury. - -"I must ask you, madam, to be so good as to be quiet," she said. "The -doctor's orders are----" - -But I did not wait to be told by her what the doctor's orders were; I -simply took her by the shoulders, ran her back into the dressing-room, -and locked the door upon her. If Edmund's mother liked to be rude to me, -she could, but I was not going to take impudence from a hospital nurse. -I cannot understand the passion young doctors have for those conceited, -overbearing women. This creature was not even married. What, I wonder, -would _my_ mother have thought of a single woman attending a lady in her -confinement? I call it scandalous. - -When I had got rid of her, I requested Mrs. Juke to retire also, which -she did. I apologised to her if I had said anything that seemed -discourteous in the heat of the moment, for there was a watery look -about her eyes as if she were feeling rather hurt; and I said to her in -a gentle way, that, if she would only for one instant imagine herself in -my place, she could not help admitting that I was more than justified. I -suggested that it would be a kindness to us if she would see what the -servants were about, judging from appearances, they were entirely -neglecting their duties. I mentioned the state of the lunch-table, and -Phyllis broke in to explain that Ted had begun work so late that he had -not yet found time to come up for anything to eat. - -"Never you mind," I said to her, soothing her. "_You_ are not to trouble -your little head about these matters. I am here, darling, and you can -rest from all housekeeping worries now." - -And so at last I had my treasure to myself. She was very fluttery, and -cried a little--which I did not wonder at--but soon composed herself, -and proudly displayed the little one cuddled to her dear breast under -the bedclothes. He was a lovely baby (and at this time of writing is the -most beautiful boy you ever saw--the image of me, Tom says); and I -felt, when I took him into my arms, as if my own happy young mother-days -had come over again. - -"Now, Phyllis dear," I said to her, as I laid him back into his nest, "I -don't want to bother or disturb you in the slightest degree, but I _do_ -want to know whether it was your wish, as Mrs. Juke declares it was----" - -However, before I could get the question out, or she could answer, the -door opened; and there stood the nurse, looking at me with her nasty, -hard eyes, as if I were some venomous reptile; and Errington was behind -her. She had actually been to fetch him--he lived almost next door--in -her rage with me for having had the firmness to keep her in her place. -He was one of these modern young doctors who swear by the new ways, and -of course he believed her tales and took her part against me. - -"Mrs. Braye," he began, trying to be very professional and superior, "I -must beg of you to leave my patient's room. The nurse has my orders not -to allow her to talk or to be agitated in any way. I do not wish her to -see people at present." - -"I will take care," I answered, with dignity, "that she does not see -people." - -"Excuse me--she is seeing people now." - -"I suppose you are not aware," I said, very quietly, "that I am your -patient's mother? It seems to be taken for granted in this house that -such a person does not exist." - -"I am aware of it," he was good enough to admit; "I recognise the fact, -Mrs. Braye, and sympathise with your feelings, believe me. But, if you -will allow me to say so, you are so excitable--you have such a quick, -nervous temperament----" - -"And who has dared to discuss my temperament with you?" I demanded -furiously--for this was the last straw--an utter stranger, a boy young -enough to have been my son! "Where is Dr. Juke? I will ask _him_ to -explain. Mrs. Juke"--she was lurking in the passage outside--"will you -be kind enough to send Edmund to me? After all, he is the medical -authority here." - -Edmund came hurrying up, and I never saw a man look so much like a -whipped dog. He had not the courage of a mouse in the presence of his -colleague. He spread out his hands with a helpless air--said we were all -under Errington's orders, and that he no longer had a say in -anything--in short, left me undefended to be a laughing-stock to those -people. - -I flew downstairs to find Tom, whom I had left in a little office behind -the consulting-room, waiting until I summoned him to see the baby. I -knew what he would think of the way I was being treated, and how he -would vindicate and uphold me. But here I was again frustrated. The -aroma of his strong tobacco was in the air; the ashes from his pipe were -still hot in the tray; but he had vanished. Rushing back into the hall, -I collided with that pert little parlourmaid who answers the door. She -had come to tell me, she said, with an ill-disguised smirk, that Captain -Braye had gone to do some business in the town and would return in the -course of an hour or two. She must have seen that something was the -matter, but she was just as callous as the rest of them. - -I said "Very well," as cheerfully as I could, and sought the only refuge -I knew of--the drawing-room on the first floor. It was dark with drawn -blinds and the tree ferns on the balcony, but not so dark that I could -not see the thick dust on everything; and there were flowers in the -vases that literally stank with decay and the bad water their stalks -were rotting in. Feeling sure that I was safe in this deserted and -neglected place, I closed the door behind me, sank upon a sofa, took out -my pocket-handkerchief, and had a good cry. Any mother, hurt to the -heart as I had been, would have done the same. - -And while I was in the middle of it I heard a gentle creak, and the -rustle of a soft gown, and a step like velvet on the carpet--Edmund -would have a Brussels carpet, instead of the polished boards and rugs -that I advised. Looking up, alarmed and ashamed, whom should I see but -dear little Emily Blount, with her kind, sweet face, full of the love -and sympathy that I was so much in need of. I had always known that she -was one in a thousand, but never had I felt so thankful that my Harry -had made so wise a choice. She had stolen away from her school to hear -how Phyllis was, and, instead of pushing in where she was not wanted, -had crept like a mouse to the empty drawing-room, to wait there until -she could intercept somebody going up or down the stairs. What an -example of good feeling, of good manners, of good breeding and good -taste! I held out my arms to her, and she ran to them, and kissed and -hugged me, crying out to know what was the matter, in the utmost -concern. - -Well, I told her what was the matter--I told her everything; I had to -relieve my overcharged feelings in some way, and, Tom being absent, I -could not have found a truer sympathiser. Words cannot express the -comfort it was to me to know that she would be my real daughter some -day. - -"Emmie," I said to her, as she sat beside me with her arm round my -waist, "promise me that, when _you_ have a baby, you will send for me to -be with you--and send for me _in time._" - -She blushed perfectly scarlet--which was silly of her, being a B.A., and -of course not like the ordinary ignorant bread-and-butter miss--but she -laid her little face into my neck in the most tender, confiding way. - -"It is what I should wish," she whispered, "if only my own dear mother -would not think----" - -"Your own mother," I broke in, "has only had you, and I have had four -children. I know much more of those matters than she does, and _you_ -know from experience, having been in the house all through Harry's -illness, what a good nurse I am." I had seen Mrs. Blount once or -twice--a sharp little fidgety woman, who would get dreadfully on the -nerves of an invalid who was at all sensitive. "Besides," I added, "own -mothers as a rule are a mistake on these occasions. They are -over-anxious, and the personal interest is too strong." - -"Oh, I think so--I do think so," she said, agreeing with me at once. "It -is too hard upon them both, unless they are cold-hearted creatures. And -I would much, much rather have you, dearest Mrs. Braye, if I am ever so -happy--so fortunate----" - -"As you will be," I broke in, warmly embracing her. "I am going to talk -to Harry about that little house which he has fallen in love with. I -don't believe in young people wasting the best years of their lives in -waiting for each other." - -We had a nice talk, and I told her how well Phyllis was doing--wonderful -as it was, when one considered the mismanagement that prevailed--and -described the beauty of the baby. Emily said she was satisfied, having -such a report on my authority, and stole away as she had come, with no -noise or fuss. I wanted her to stay with me until Tom returned, but she -pleaded her duties, and I am not the one to dissuade in such a case. -When she was gone I sat alone for a few minutes, calmed and braced, -thinking what I should do; then I heard a step, and Edmund came in. - -"Oh, _here_ you are!" he exclaimed, with forced hilarity. "I've been -hunting for you everywhere. Look here, Mater dear, I'm so awfully -sorry----" - -But I was prepared for these counterfeit apologies, which had no sorrow -in them. I cut him short by inquiring mildly whether Captain Braye was -in the house. - -"Not yet--he's not back yet--he will be soon. But look here, Mrs. Braye, -honestly, I wouldn't have had it happen for a thousand pounds." - -"Then may I ask you, Edmund, kindly to have my portmanteau sent to the -stables? I will join my husband there." - -"No, no," he urged, in a great fluster. "You are not going to leave us. -We sha'n't let you. Your portmanteau is gone to the spare room. You will -stay with Phyllis and the baby, and my mother will go. She is putting -her things on now." - -"Then go and stop her _instantly_," I cried. "What! Do you suppose I -want her to be slighted and humiliated because I am? Do you want to set -it about everywhere that I turned your mother out of her own son's -house? I have no place here, Edmund--I had forgotten it for the moment, -but I shall not forget it again; she has. Go at once and tell her that, -if she doesn't stay, Phyllis will have no one." - -"And why can't you both stay?" he demanded foolishly. - -"My dear boy," I laughed, "if you think that possible, after what I have -just experienced, you must have a very queer opinion of me. I am not -proud, nor prone to take offence, but one must draw the line somewhere. -Two perfect strangers have turned me out of my daughter's room and -insulted me before my daughter's face, apparently with your approval. I -wonder what the captain will think when he hears of it? It will rather -astonish him, I fancy. Even if I consented to expose myself to further -treatment of the kind, I am quite sure he would not. But I am not the -person to force myself where I am not wanted, Edmund; you ought to know -that by this time." - -And yet I pined to stay. And when he pleaded that they had all done for -the best, according to their lights, and tried to persuade me that the -entire household, including Phyllis, was overwhelmed with grief because -I was offended, I wondered whether I could, with any justice to myself -and Tom, pocket the indignities that I had received. I said to my -son-in-law-- - -"Let us understand each other. When you ask me to remain, do you -contemplate keeping on that nurse who was so insolent to me?" - -"Oh," said he, "I don't think she meant to be insolent. She's a -first-class nurse. Very strict ideas about duty, but that's a fault on -the right side, isn't it? Errington got her for us, and as he's -attending Phyllis----" - -"He would still go on attending Phyllis, I suppose?" - -"Oh, I suppose so. Why not?" - -"No reason why not, of course, if you wish it. Only you can hardly blame -me if I prefer not to meet either of them again. Good-bye, Edmund. I -have a little shopping to do. And I hope," I burst out, breaking from -him and running down the stairs, "I hope that when your children grow -up, they won't cast you off in your old age as mine have done." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -VINDICATED. - - -Naturally, I did not see much of the Juke household after the affair of -the baby's birth. There is nothing so sad, and so disgraceful to the -parties concerned, as discord in families; but this was no vulgar -quarrel, although several officious busybodies regarded it as such. I -merely took the very broad hint that my son-in-law and his mother had -given me, to the effect that Phyllis by her marriage had passed into -their possession and no more belonged to me. Moreover, one must have -_some_ self-respect, as I represented to Tom, who either could not or -would not recognise the facts of the case, remaining stupidly impervious -to arguments that would have convinced a child; and a proper sense of -dignity is an element of good breeding which I have inherited with my -blood--fortunately or otherwise, as the case may be. - -But I was just as anxious, and even more so, to be assured that all was -well. _My_ feelings towards my own kith and kin can know no change. -Therefore I sent Tom to Melbourne every morning to make inquiries. -Perhaps he would have gone in any case, for his own satisfaction, but he -was not the messenger I should have chosen had there been a choice. -Unfortunately, he was the only one available. Without, I am sure, -meaning to be disloyal to me, he would stay there half the day, smoke -with Edmund, lunch with Mrs. Juke, pay Phyllis visits in her room, and -generally allow himself to be cajoled into forgetting the actual state -of things--making me cheap as well as himself, and putting me into a -most false and ignominious position. And then he would come back laden -with "best loves" and "when was I coming to see them again?" and "Baby -was wondering what he had done to be deserted by his dear grandmamma," -and rubbish of that sort, which any one but he must have seen was -simply insulting under the circumstances, and which sometimes drove me -wild. His weak amiability, in season and out of season, and his habit of -taking everybody to be as goodnatured as himself, made him incapable of -perceiving that a gross outrage had been committed, for which formal -apologies were due. I argued the matter with him for hours at a time, -and had my labour for my pains; he would never positively admit that I -was right, simply because he could not understand the point of view. The -silence that gives consent was the most I got, and I was not satisfied -with that--from him. And so we fell out rather frequently--we, who had -never had a disagreement in our lives--and I was very unhappy. - -Nevertheless, I was not going to set foot in Edmund Juke's house until -proper reparation had been made. It was not for a woman of my years and -standing to bow down to a boy and girl and an ignorant old person, who, -I believe, began life in a baker's shop, or some such place. An apology -I intended to have before I would receive them back to favour. - -And they did not apologise. It seems to me a petty sort of thing not to -frankly own it when one is in the wrong, but very few people are -large-minded enough to apprehend the difference between false pride and -true. As a rule, they think it derogatory to dignity--a "come-down" so -to speak--to confess to being human and therefore liable to error; -whereas you cannot have a better proof of moral superiority. Edmund and -Phyllis were no exceptions to this rule. They would do anything short of -the one thing they should have done. When the time came for the baby to -be baptized, they wrote a joint letter, couched in extravagantly -affectionate terms, asking me to be his godmother. It was the dearest -wish of their hearts, they would have me believe; and yet--not a word of -regret for what they had made me suffer! - -I saw through it at once. They were merely throwing a sop to Cerberus, -as it were, expecting that the little compliment would pacify -me--treating me as a cross child to be appeased with lollipops. Tom was -angry when I expressed my views; he said--what I am sure he was very -sorry for afterwards--that I was "the most perverse woman that ever -walked;" and it really seemed at one time as if this miserable affair -was destined to wreck the happiness of a marriage which for more than a -quarter of a century had been the most perfect in the world. I had never -imagined it possible that _my_ husband could be morose and rude--and to -me, of all people! - -I answered the letter the same day. I said I was much obliged to Edmund -and Phyllis for their kind invitation, but I considered I was too old to -stand sponsor to the baby, who should have some one likely to be of use -to him through life. I did not suggest Mrs. Juke as a substitute; I did -not even mention her, nor refer to my grievances; I wrote temperately -and courteously, though not gushingly, and I fully expected that my note -would bring forth another, urging me to reconsider the matter, and -assuring me that I was not too old for anything--as of course I am not. -Instead of this, they affected to be huffy, made no rejoinder, and took -no further notice of me. So my feelings can be imagined when Lily calmly -informed me that _she_ was to be the baby's godmother. I was keeping the -child closely at home, engaged with her studies; I had put a stop to the -Melbourne visits, because I do not believe in town life for a girl so -young, and it was just as easy and very little more expensive to have -her masters come out to give her lessons; therefore I could not imagine -how she had been, as Harry would have said, "got at." - -"Oh, are you?" I ejaculated, dissembling my surprise, "and, pray, who -says so?" - -"Father," she replied. "Ted spoke to father, and he said I might. And -they want father to be godfather--Mr. Stephen Juke and either father or -Harry--and Harry says his conscience is against something or other in -the baptismal service--and so is Emily's--and that's why they chose me. -And oh, mother, I must! I MUST!" - -She said it as if it were "I will," and with that mulish look which I -knew of old, and which meant that she would fight to the death to get -her own way, no matter whose feelings might be trampled on. I did not -stay to argue with her, but flew down the garden to find Tom. He was -pitchforking clean straw into the pigsties, and when he saw me, stood -and leaned on the fork handle with an exaggerated air of resignation. -"Well, and what's the matter now?" was expressed in his face and -attitude, though he did not speak. - -"Tom," I demanded, as I paused before him--I will not deny that I was -boiling over "Tom, are you going to be godfather to the Jukes' baby?" - -"I don't know, Polly," he said evasively. "Nothing is settled yet." - -"If you do," I declared with passion, "I will never speak to you again." - -Of _course_ I did not mean that, but he took it as if I had said -something horrible. Never did I expect to see my husband look at me as -he looked then, or to hear him speak to me in a tone so cold and cruel, -or call me names as if he were a common costermonger instead of the -gentleman I had always found him. - -"Polly," he said, "because you are behaving like a maniac, am I to do so -too?--to turn against my daughter for nothing at all--my dear, good -child, who never grieved me in her life--and at this time of all times, -when her little heart is full----" - -I could bear no more. I burst into tears. I believe the boy was digging -potatoes not twenty yards away, but I did not care; in the middle of -Collins Street I must have done the same. To be misunderstood by the -whole world was a trifle indeed, but to be misunderstood by _him_ an -insupportable calamity. - -It was but for a moment, after all. No sooner did he see my tears than -he flung away his fork, hurried me behind a shed, and took me into his -arms to comfort me, as he had always done. All piggy as he was, I threw -mine around his neck, forgiving him everything for the sake of his -constant love. - -"There, there," he crooned, "don't cry, pet. What a baby it is, after -all! You know as well as I do that you are just cutting off your nose to -spite your face--now don't you, sweetheart?" - -"Oh, Tom," I wailed, "if you would _only_ understand!" - -"Well, I do," he assured me, ruffling my hair with his grubby paw. "I -know all about it, little woman. And I'm ready to do anything in the -world to please you. I always am." - -"Then you won't stand godfather to that child--without me?" - -"Suppose we both stand together? We've done everything together so far." - -"I can't. I have refused." - -"Then write and say you have changed your mind." - -"It's too late. And they don't want me to change it, Tom--they don't -indeed; they only asked me out of politeness; they did not press me the -least little bit. I am sure they were delighted when I declined. They -had calculated upon it." - -"Pooh! That's your imagination." - -"It is _not_. What, are you going to accuse me of not speaking the -truth?" - -"No, no, my dear; but sometimes--well, never mind; we are all liable to -make mistakes. And when I think of the letter they wrote, asking -you--and I'm sure they meant it----" - -"They could not have meant it, because when I only half declined--I left -it open to them to ask again--they would not take the hint. Oh, they -don't want me for anything now, and I would die sooner than ever force -myself on them again!" - -Tom inquired, in a grave tone, what I had said in my letter--what reason -I had given for declining, or half-declining, in the first instance; and -I told him. - -"And, dear," I urged, "if I am too old--and they accepted that as a -valid excuse--what are you?" - -"Hm-m," he mused. "I never thought of that. Harry's the man--not me--if -there's anything in being godfather beyond the name. Only Harry jibs at -saying 'I will' and 'all this I steadfastly believe'--as if it were for -a young donkey like him to criticise the Prayer Book that's been good -enough for generations of us. That boy's head is full of maggots. So's -Emily's." - -"I beg," said I, "that you will not say a word against Emily, nor Harry -either. They are perfectly right. I think their loyalty beautiful." - -"To whom?" asked Tom. - -"To me," I said. "Was it likely they would stand sponsors to the baby -over my head? No, they love me too well to countenance anything that -would humiliate me. And Tom, my dear, I think it downright tyranny to -keep those two dear children hanging on as they are doing, wasting their -best years. You forget that I was barely twenty when you married me." - -"Barely twenty-two," he corrected. - -"And Emily is twenty-three. You might remember what it was to _us_ to -get each other and our little home--how _we_ should have felt if cruel -fathers had kept us out of it!" - -"Well, I never thought to hear myself called a cruel father," laughed -Tom, taking everything literally, as usual. "And as for Hal and -Emily--why, you yourself----" - -"I did nothing of the sort," I broke in--for I knew what he was going to -say--"and I have always advocated early marriages, because our own was -so successful. Now, Tom, when we have settled the affair of the -christening--but we must do that first----" - -"And how's it to be done?" he sighed, heavily. "Good God! I've been -true-blue Church and State all my life, but I'm hanged if I don't wish -there were no such things as christenings!" - -I am sure I heartily agreed with him. - -And after all he had his wish, as far as our baby was concerned. That -christening was postponed indefinitely. I heard that Edmund had said, -with a man's obtuseness to the logic of the case, that it was better the -child should remain a technical sinner than that all its relations -should become real ones. I was greatly surprised at the decision, but if -they chose to make the poor infant suffer for their faults, it was no -concern of mine. Mary Welshman and her husband wanted to make out that -it was--this, however, was merely a bit of revenge for some strictures I -had passed upon that disreputable brother of hers--and they took upon -themselves to such an extent that I resigned my sitting in the church -and stopped all my subscriptions. Welshman said that if baby died -unbaptized and unregenerate, his eternal damnation would lie at my -door--or something to that effect. I was not going to sit under a -clergyman who presumed to behave to me in that way. - -And so, thanks to all this meddling and muddling, the miserable affair -ended in a complete estrangement between my daughter and me. She never -came out to see us, as she had been used to do, and of course I did not -go to see her without being asked. I would not let Lily go either, to -have her taught to be disrespectful to her mother; and the child--too -young to know what was for her good--tried me sorely with her rebellious -spirit. She was worse than rebellious--she was disobedient and -deceitful; I found that she met her sister secretly when my back was -turned, and that she knew when little Eddie cut his first tooth, and -when he was short-coated, though I did not. Tom was mopey and grumpy, -almost sulky sometimes--so changed that I hardly knew him for my -sunny-tempered mate; he seemed all at once to be turning into an old -man. And I, though I tried to fight against it, had a perpetual ache in -my heart, and was tempted sometimes to wish that I was dead, so that I -might be loved once more. - -What I should have done without Emily I don't know. Tom gave me -permission to make certain arrangements which would enable her and Harry -to marry and settle, and the excitement and occupation which this -entailed just kept me, I think, from going out of my mind with -melancholy. As it was near the midwinter vacation, I insisted on the -dear girl giving up her school at the end of term; and we fixed a day in -August for the wedding, so as to have the cream of springtime for the -honeymoon. Emily's father--a perfect gentleman---was a cripple, earning -but a small income by law-writing at home, and their house in Richmond -was cramped and close; for health's sake I made her spend part of the -holidays with me, and really it was like the happy old times over again -to see her sweet, bright face about the house. Her companionship was -most beneficial to Lily, too; the child recovered all her amiability, -and was as good as gold. Tom quite brightened up, laughing and joking, -like his old self; and we had Harry rushing out upon his bicycle -directly his office closed, and staying to sleep night after night, so -as to get long evenings with his betrothed. I never saw a pair of lovers -behave with better taste. Instead of hiding themselves in an empty room -for hours, they would play a rubber of whist with the old folks, and -Emily would sing our favourite songs to us, and duets with Lily; and -Harry was like a big boy again with his "Mummie" and his "Mater" and his -many pranks. It was delicious to wake in the night and think of him back -in the family nest--to picture him as he had looked when I went in to -tuck him up, turning his handsome head to kiss his mother. It was a good -time altogether--except for the one thing; _that_ spoiled all--for me, -at any rate, if not for the others. - -Every day, and nearly all day long, Emily and I busied ourselves -preparing the new house. The dears had wished to live in our -neighbourhood, like the devoted children that they were, and had fallen -in love with a sweet little villa of half a dozen rooms, in a neat, -small garden, which was the ideal home for a bride and bridegroom of -large refinement and small means. It was a Boom property going cheap, -and Tom and I stretched a point to buy it outright and make them a -present of it; so that I could look forward to having my dear -daughter-in-law near me for many years to come. Such proximity might -have been inconvenient in the case of another person, but I had no fear -of the old prejudice against mothers-in-law operating here. - -The drawing-room, furnished entirely to my own design, was a picture. We -had the floor stained and rugs spread about; as Emily said, that was one -of the charms of living out of streets, which, however well-watered, -continually covered your things with dust, as if the house had pores to -take it in by. In town, if you want polished surfaces, you must simply -live with a duster in your hand. Then we papered the walls yellow and -painted the woodwork cream; and we made delightful chintz curtains and -covers for inexpensive furniture, and got a handy carpenter to carry out -our ideas for overmantel and bookcases, and used I don't know how many -tins of Aspinall. Without going into further particulars, I may say that -it was the prettiest little home that can be imagined when all was done. -Emily was only too pleased to leave everything to my taste and judgment, -and I cannot remember ever having a job that I enjoyed more thoroughly. - -Then she had to go back to her mother to get her clothes ready. And, -because I could not do without her altogether, I often joined her in -town and had an hour's shopping or sewing with her. I accompanied her, -of course, when she went to choose the wedding-gown--a walking costume -of cloth and silk that would be useful to her afterwards--and on the -following day I kept an appointment we had made to interview a -dressmaker. - -For the first time, she was not waiting for me. Her mother met me -instead--a nice, superior sort of woman, quite different from Mrs. -Juke--but a little inclined to be offhand, even with me. I also detected -in her manner a trace of that jealous spirit which above all things I -abhor, especially in mothers, whose natural instinct it is to sacrifice -and efface themselves for their children's good. - -"Emily is out," she said. "You can't have her. You'll have to do as I -mostly have to do--attend to your business alone." - -"But it is her business I am going to attend to--not my own," I said; -"and I cannot possibly do it without her. It is entirely for her -pleasure and convenience that I have come in to-day, Mrs. Blount, and -she faithfully promised to be ready for me at three." - -"Well, you see, sickness is not like anything else--it's got to come -first. It's not an hour since she was sent for, and there was no way of -getting a message to you. She told me to give you her love, and say how -sorry she was." - -"Will she be long, do you think?" - -"I couldn't say; but she took her nightgown with her." - -"Oh! Then I may as well go home at once. And when she wants me again, -she can send me word." I was inclined to be annoyed with Emily for -running me about for nothing, but--providentially--it occurred to me to -inquire what her errand was. - -"It's the child," said Mrs. Blount, "that's not very well." - -"What child?" - -"The little Juke baby. He has only a cold, his mother thinks, but, as -the doctor is away just now, she's nervous about him. So she sent for -Emily." - -"For _Emily!_" My heart swelled. I cannot describe the feeling that came -over me. Mrs. Blount stared at me in an odd way, and I have no doubt had -cause to do so; I must have stared at her like a daft creature. Neither -of us spoke another word. I just turned and ran out of the house, ran -all the way to the tram road, ran after a tram that had already passed -the end of the street, and in a quarter of an hour was jumping from the -dummy of another opposite my darling daughter's door. No doubt my fellow -travellers smiled to see a matron of my years conducting herself in that -manner, but I cast dignity to the winds. A new maid who did not know me -answered my sharp pull at the house bell, and told me Mrs. Juke was not -at home to visitors. - -"How is the baby?" I gasped out, trembling in every limb. - -"We have just sent for Dr. Errington," she replied. And then I rushed -past her and upstairs to Phyllis's room. - -As soon as I opened the door, and heard the sound in the air, I -recognised croup. It reminded me of times, in years gone by, when I had -wakened in the night and wondered for a moment what the extraordinary -noise was that pulsed through the house like the snoring of a wild -animal, and then leaped from my bed in agony as if a sword had gone -through me. I could see my own child's face, swollen and dark with -threatened suffocation, looking to her mother for help with those -beseeching eyes: just in the same way they looked at me now, only now -the mother-anguish was wringing _her_ poor heart. She was walking up and -down the floor distractedly, with the baby in her arms--he had grown a -huge fellow, and weighed her down; and Emily was wildly turning the -leaves of a great medical book of Edmund's, blind with tears. Dear, -loving, futile creatures! It was more than I could bear to see them, and -to hear my Phyllis cry, "Mother! Mother! Oh, mother, tell us what to -do!" - -In one moment my cloak was on the floor and the babe was in my arms. He -struggled to cry, but could not get the sound out--only the brazen crow, -and harsh, strangled breath, which, I was informed, were symptoms of a -crisis which had only just appeared, attacking him in his sleep--and -Phyllis, when she had given him to me, clasped and unclasped her hands, -wrung them, and moaned as if some one were killing her. - -"Ipecacuanha wine!" I shouted. "Run Emily! Run over to the chemist's and -get it fresh--it must be fresh--and don't lose an instant! Hot water, -Phyllis, and a sponge! And tell them to get a bath ready!" - -They scurried away, and Emily, hatless and panting, was back from the -chemist's on the other side of the street before I had finished -loosening the infant's clothes; and he nearly choked himself with the -first spoonful of the stuff, which nevertheless I was obliged to make -him swallow. - -"He can't! He can't!" Phyllis moaned, tears that she forgot to wipe away -running down her poor face like rain down a window-pane. "Oh, he's -choking! He's going into convulsions! He's dying! Oh, Ted, Ted! Oh, my -precious angel! Oh, what shall I do!" - -I calmly gave him another spoonful of the ipecacuanha wine, for I knew -what I knew--that in ten minutes all this grief would subside with the -sufferings of the poor child--and almost immediately the expected -results occurred. It was an agitating moment for her, still imagining -convulsions and the throes of dissolution, and an anxious one for me, -because this was a much younger victim to croup than any I had had to -deal with; but when the paroxysm passed it was evident to everybody--and -the servants also were standing round--that his distress was already -soothed and the tension of the attack relieved. I put him gently into -the warm bath, heating it gradually till he might almost have been -scalded without knowing it, fomenting the little throat with a soft -sponge; and when I took him out and rolled him in a warm blanket, he -sank at once to sleep in my arms, and the crisis and the danger were -over. - -Then in dashed Dr. Errington, desperately alarmed because he was so -late, and full of suspicious questions. Phyllis took him aside and -explained everything, and, although it was hard to convince him that the -right thing had been done, eventually he was convinced, and owned it. - -"I congratulate you, Mrs. Braye, on your presence of mind," he said -handsomely. "It it not at all unlikely, from what Mrs. Juke tells me, -that the prompt measures you took averted a serious attack." - -"Thank you, doctor," I replied with a modest smile. "I am glad to prove -to you that I am of some use in a sick-room." - -He looked a little embarrassed--as well he might--and Emily flushed up. -It was her habit to blush at anything and nothing, like a half-grown -school girl. But Phyllis spoke out bravely. - -"Mother has just saved his life, Dr. Errington--that's all. If she had -not come at the moment she did, he must have choked to death. None of us -knew what to do to relieve him, but she knew at once." Then, as she -kneeled beside me where I sat on the nursing chair by the fire, she -dropped her poor, pretty, tired head upon my shoulder, and said, in the -most natural way in the world: "Father is right--there's no nurse in the -world like her." - -I have had many happy moments in my life, first and last, but I do think -that was one of the happiest. - -We sat by the fire until dusk--we three and the sleeping child. He had -gone off in my arms, and I would not permit him to be moved or touched. -As long as the light lasted I watched his sweet face, and the blessed -dew of perspiration on his still open lips and where the matted curls -stuck to his nobly-shaped brow; never had I seen such a splendid boy of -his age--except my own. I made Phyllis put up her feet on a lounge -opposite, and every now and then I met her wistful eyes looking at me -as if she were a child herself again. Yet I saw a great change in -her--the great change that motherhood makes in every woman--enhancing -her charm in every way. Emily sat on the stool between us. Once or twice -she attempted to go--and I wished she would--but Phyllis would not let -her. However, though not one of us yet, she would be soon, and in our -murmured talk together I instructed them both in some of the things of -which, in spite of a doctor being the husband of one of them, they were -alike ignorant. - -"Remember," I said, "never to be without a four-ounce bottle of -ipecacuanha wine, hermetically sealed when fresh, and kept where you can -readily lay your hand upon it. And when you find your child breathing in -that loud, hoarse way, or beginning that barking cough, give a -teaspoonful at once--at _once_--and another every five minutes until -relieved. Now don't forget that, either of you. You thought it only a -bad cold, Phyllis dear, but I could have told you differently if you -had sent for me. When he gets another attack----" - -"Oh, do you think he will have another?" she gasped, springing up on her -sofa with that unnecessary, uncontrollable agitation which I understood -so well. - -I told her I expected it, but that there was no need to be alarmed, -since she now knew how to recognise and deal with the complaint, which, -even if constitutional with him, he would grow out of in a few years. I -suggested causes to be guarded against--stomach troubles, the notorious -insalubrity of Melbourne streets, and so on--and reassured her as much -as I could. - -"Pray Heaven," she sighed, with tears in her eyes, "that I may never see -him like this again! Oh, I can't bear to think of it!" She shuddered -visibly. "He would have been dead now--now, at this very moment--and Ted -would have come home to find we were childless--if it had not been for -you, mother." - -"I think it very likely," I said, looking at the darling as I gently -swayed him to and fro on the low rocking-chair. "But he won't die now." - -"And he wasn't christened!" she ejaculated. - -"_That_ didn't matter," Emily put in, with her inevitable blush. "You -don't believe in that old fetish of baptismal regeneration, surely, -Phyllis? You don't think the poor little soul would have been plunged -into fire and brimstone because a man did not make incantations over -it?" - -I rebuked Emily. As I had before remarked to Tom, she had all sorts of -maggots in her head. It was the B.A., the advanced woman, coming out in -her, and I did not like to see it, my own family having been brought up -so differently. I observed with relief, that Phyllis took no notice of -her flippant questions. She looked at me--knowing that I should -understand--and said she felt as if it would be a comfort to her somehow -to have him baptized. I suggested that it would be nice to have it done -in the cathedral as soon as he was well enough; and just after that he -awoke, we gave him his medicine, and Emily went home. - -When I had dressed the child for his cot and made him comfortable I took -up my own cloak and bonnet. But Phyllis looked so aghast at the -proceeding, and implored me with such evident sincerity not to leave -her, and particularly not to leave the baby, that I consented to stay at -any rate until Edmund returned--although, as I represented to her, her -father would be thinking I had been run over in the street. - -When she heard her husband's step in the hall she made an excuse to run -down to speak to him about the boy, and they came back together, and -straightway embraced me with all their four arms at once. Edmund, who -has always had the manners of a prince, spoke in the nicest way about my -goodness to them. - -"And now you won't leave us any more, Mater dear--now you see how badly -we manage things without you to help us? I have sent a message to the -captain--I've asked him to come by the next train--and your room is -getting ready. You _will_ stay--for our sakes--won't you?" - -I wept on Edmund's shoulder, like a complete idiot. And of course I -stayed. - - * * * * * - -Shall I ever forget that springtime! The garden was a garden of Eden -with flowers and birds--the bulbs in bloom, bushes of carmine japonica, -great clouds of white almond and pink peach blossom overhead, and the -scent of daphne and violets at every turn. As for the house, it was a -little paradise on earth, which a house can never be, to my thinking, -without a baby in it. To see that dear child crawling all over it, with -Phyllis flying after him--to hear him chirping to his grandfather, who -seemed to forget there were such things as pigs and fowls to see to--oh, -it was too blissful for words! I easily persuaded Edmund that Collins -Street was a place for women and children to live in when they must and -get out of when they could, and he knew when he confided his treasures -to me that they could not be in safer hands. He told me so, and I am -happy to say the event justified his faith. Every time that he came -over--which was almost daily, though often he had not half an hour to -stay--he found them rosier and plumper, turning the scale at a trifle -more. - -As I kept them for the summer--in the middle of which we all went to -Lorne for a month--they were with me at the time of Harry's marriage in -the spring. Edmund came down that morning to fetch his wife and Lily to -the wedding, bringing a carriage for them and Tom. Of course they wanted -me to go--everybody wanted it--Tom almost flatly declined to stir a step -without me; but I said, no, I would keep house and take care of the -precious grandson. After the way I had been deprived of him in the past, -it was beautiful to think of having him for a whole day to myself. And, -as I said to Tom, it was all an old woman was fit for. - -"Oh, I like that!" he laughed, throwing an arm round my waist. "You know -very well you've only got to put your smart gown on and walk away from -the lot of 'em--bride and bridesmaids and all." - -Old goose! But I am sure when he was dressed, and the lilies of the -valley stuck in his buttonhole, he could walk away from any young -bridegroom in the matter of looks--aye, even his own handsome son. They -all kissed me fondly before leaving the house--my pretty girls, and -Edmund, who was as dear as they--and I stood at the gate to see them go -with the pleasant knowledge that I should be more conspicuous by my -absence than any one by their presence at the wedding party, except the -bride herself. - -In the afternoon, when Eddie was asleep and I was beginning to feel -rather tired of my own company, I had a visit from kind old Mrs. Juke. -She too had married her sons and daughters, so she could sympathise with -me. We had a comfortable tea together, and lots of talk, comparing -notes, as mothers love to do; and then we amused ourselves with our -grandchild, like two infants with a doll. She was of Tom's opinion that -he was the image of me, and she was in raptures at the improvement in -him since I had "saved his life"--as she persisted in calling the mere -giving of a simple emetic. Strange to say, with all the children she had -had, she could not remember a case of croup amongst them, and she did -not know the sovereign virtue of fresh ipecacuanha wine. Later in the -afternoon we walked to the new house, wheeling the perambulator in turn; -and I showed her everything, and she thought all perfect--as it was. She -was wonderfully agile for a rather stout woman, making nothing of the -long tramp; and her intelligent appreciation of artistic things -surprised me. I had long discovered the fact that she was excellently -educated. Her father had had large flour mills and been wealthy in his -day, and his daughters had all had advantages--far more than I had had -myself, in fact. Poor Mrs. Blount, on the contrary, had never mixed with -cultured people, as her accent indicated. - -"Well," said Ted's mother, in Ted's own nice way, when our inspection of -the little house was ended, "Emily Blount ought to be a happy girl." - -"And she is," I replied. "About as happy as a young bride ever was in -this world--except myself." - -"And me," said Mrs. Juke. - -"And you." - -I was glad and proud to believe that it was so. - -But since then I have wondered sometimes whether Emily appreciates her -extraordinary luck as she ought to do. Now and then it comes across me -that she takes it a little too much as a matter of course. - -It is very nice--very nice indeed--to have her living so near me, but I -must say she is not quite so docile as she was before her marriage. -Being a University woman, she naturally knows nothing in the world about -housekeeping, and it was only in kindness to her and out of -consideration for Harry's purse that I advised her now and then on -domestic matters. I thought to be sure she would be grateful for hints -from one of such large experience, but it was evidently otherwise, -since as a rule she did not take them. I told her that three pounds of -butter a week for three people was preposterous, and that light crust -made of clarified beef dripping was infinitely nicer as well as more -wholesome than the rich puff paste they put to everything; but she went -on taking the three pounds just the same. Though I gave her a sausage -machine and endless recipes for doing up cold scraps, I used to see good -pieces of meat thrown away continually; and a girl they had, who lit the -morning fire with kerosene, and who told my Jane that she "couldn't -stand the old lady at no price," broke crockery every time she touched -it, and yet they persisted in keeping her. As I said to Harry, if they -got into these extravagant ways when there were but two of them, how -would it be presently when there was a family to support? But your son -is never the same son after he has taken a wife, and Harry did not like -to be appealed to. The other day he said, "Please don't interfere with -her"--quite as if he were speaking to some meddlesome outsider. _I_ -interfere! The notion was too absurd. I reminded him how I had held -aloof from the Jukes when they were young beginners, as proving as I was -not the sort of person to force myself where I was not wanted, even upon -my own children. But he and Emily are not like my beloved Edmund and -Phyllis, who think there is no one in the world like "Mater dear." - - -THE END. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Materfamilias, by Ada Cambridge - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATERFAMILIAS *** - -***** This file should be named 40659.txt or 40659.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/6/5/40659/ - -Produced by Clare Graham, Laura McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images graciously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Materfamilias - -Author: Ada Cambridge - -Release Date: September 4, 2012 [EBook #40659] - -Language: NU - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATERFAMILIAS *** - - - - -Produced by Clare Graham, Laura McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images graciously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - -MATERFAMILIAS - -BY - -ADA CAMBRIDGE - -AUTHOR OF - -THE THREE MISS KINGS, A MARRIAGE CEREMONY, - -MY GUARDIAN, NOT ALL IN VAIN, FIDELIS, - -A LITTLE MINX, ETC. - - -NEW YORK - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - -1898 - - - - -CONTENTS. - - I.--THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL - II.--IN THE EARLY DAYS - III.--A PAGE OF LIFE - IV.--THE BROKEN CIRCLE - V.--A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING - VI.--DEPOSED - VII.--A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT - VIII.--THE SILVER WEDDING - IX.--GRANDMAMMA - X.--VINDICATED - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL. - - -My father in England married a second time when I was about eighteen. -She was my governess. - -Mother herself had engaged her, and I believe had asked, when dying, -that she would remain to take care of us; and I don't say that she was -not a good woman. She had been nearly five years in the house, and we -had the habit of looking to her for advice in all family concerns; and -certainly she took great pains with my education. But of course I was -not going to stand seeing her put in mother's place. I told father so. -I said to him, kindly, but firmly: "Father, you will have to choose -between us. There will not be room under this roof for both." - -He chose her. Consequently I left my home, though they both tried hard -to prevent it, and to reconcile me to their new arrangements. I will say -that for them. In fact, my father, pleading legal rights, forbade me to -go, except for some temporary visiting. I went on the understanding that -I was to return in a couple of months or so. But I was resolved not to -return, and I never did. While staying with my uncle, a medical man, I -privately married his assistant--one (if I may say so) of a -miscellaneous assortment of admirers. I am afraid I encouraged him to -propose an elopement; I certainly hastened its accomplishment. Then -after all our plottings and stratagems, when at last I had the ring on -my finger, I wrote to inform father of what he and Miss Coleman had -driven me to. Poor old father! It was a tremendous blow to him. But I -don't know why he should have made such a fuss about it, seeing that he -had done the same--practically the same--himself. - -It was a greater disaster to me than to him, or to anybody--even to my -husband, who almost from the first regarded me as a millstone about his -neck; for _he_ could go away and enjoy himself when he liked, forgetting -that I existed. Indeed, it was a horrible catastrophe. When my own -children are so anxious to get married while they are still but -children, and think it so cruel of me to thwart them, I wish I could -tell them what I went through at their age! But I don't mention it. I -promised Tom I never would. - -At twenty I was teaching for a living--I, who had been so petted and -coddled, hardly allowed to do a hand's turn for myself! My husband was -travelling about the world as a ship's doctor. Father wanted me to come -home, but I was too proud for that. Besides, I would not go where I had -to hear Edward insulted. After all, he was my husband, and our -matrimonial troubles were entirely our own concern. Not from him, -either, would I accept anything after I was able to earn for myself. I -taught at a school for thirty pounds a year, and managed to make that -do. It was a wretched life. - -I was barely of age when the news came that Edward had caught fever -somewhere and been left in a Melbourne hospital by his ship, which was -returning without him. At once I made up my mind that it was my duty as -a wife to go to him. He had no friends in Australia, and not much money; -it was pathetic to think of him alone and helpless amongst utter -strangers; and I thought that if I did this for him he would remember it -afterwards, and be kind to me, and help me to make our married life a -little more like other people's. In those days there was no cable across -the world, and mails but once a month; so that when I started I was -altogether in the dark as to what I was going to. The first news of his -illness--with no particulars, except that it was fever--was all I ever -had. - -I would not ask my father for money. Indeed, he would have frustrated -my purpose altogether had he known of it in time. I went to my old -godmother, Aunt Kate, who was very rich and fond of me, and begged the -loan of fifty pounds, not telling her what I wanted it for. She gave the -money outright, with another fifty added to it; so that I had plenty to -cover the cost of a comfortable voyage. I determined, however, to save -on the voyage all I could, that I might have something in my pocket on -landing, when funds would be sorely needed. To which end I engaged my -berth in the humblest passenger-boat available--Tom's little Racer, of -ever-beloved memory. They told me at the office that she was better than -her name--faster than many that were twice her size. I was young and -silly enough to believe them, and also to forget that by the time I -reached Australia Edward's illness would have long been a thing of the -past, and he perhaps back in England or well on his way thither. - -If the Racer was one of the smallest ships in the Australian trade, her -master, Thomas Braye, must have been one of the youngest captains. At -that time he was under thirty, though he did not look it, being a big -man, quiet and grave in manner, deeply sensible of his professional -responsibilities. I remember thinking him rather rough and decidedly -plain when I saw him first; but he was gentleness and gentlemanliness -incarnate, and I never afterwards thought of his appearance except to -note the physical inadequacy of other men beside him. - -He has told me since that _his_ first feeling on seeing _me_ was one of -strong annoyance. Though a married woman and going out to my husband, I -was but a young girl in fact--far too young and far too pretty (though I -say it) to be travelling as I was, without an escort. It unfortunately -happened that I was the only lady in the saloon, and that the ship was -too small to have a stewardess. Three wives of artisans herded with -their husbands and children in the black hole they called the steerage, -and one of them was summoned aft as soon as we were in the river to keep -me company. But as the others were disagreeable about it, and she was a -coarse and dirty creature, I myself begged Captain Braye to send her -back again. Poor Tom! By the way, I did not call him Tom then, of -course; I did not even know his Christian name. He says he never -undertook a job so unwillingly as he did that job of taking care of me. -How absurd it seems--now! - -We sailed in late autumn, in the twilight of the afternoon. I remember -the look of the Thames as we were towed down--the low, cold sky, the -slate-coloured mist, with mere shadows of shores and ships just looming -through it. Nothing could have been more dreary. And yet I enjoyed it. -The feeling that I was free of that horrible schoolroom, and that still -more horrible lodging-house, where I cooked meals over an etna on a -painted washstand, and ate them as I sat on a straw-stuffed bed--the -prospect of long rest from the squalid scramble that life had become, -from all-day work that had tired me to death--oh, no one can understand -what luxury that was! Besides, I had hopes of the future, based on -Edward's convalescence and reform, to buoy me up. And then I loved the -sea. People are born to love it, or not to love it; it is a thing -innate, like genius, never to be acquired, and never to be lost, under -any circumstances. When the Channel opened out, and the long swell began -to lift and roll, I knew that I was in my native element, though a -dweller inland from birth up to this moment. The feel of the buoyant -deck and of the pure salt wind was like wings to soul and body. - -But I had to pay my footing first. It came upon me suddenly, in the -midst of my raptures, and I staggered below, and cast myself, dressed as -I was, upon my bunk. Never, never had I felt so utterly forsaken! When -ill before, with my little, trivial complaints, Miss Coleman had waited -on me hand and foot--everybody had coddled me; now I was overwhelmed in -unspeakable agonies, and nobody cared. It is true that--though I would -not have her--the steerage woman came in the middle of the night; and -once I roused from a merciful snatch of sleep to find my bracket lamp -alight where all had been darkness. These things indicated that some one -was concerned about me--Tom, of course--but I did not realize it then. I -was alone in my misery, alone in the wide world, of no consequence even -to my own husband; and I wished I was dead. - -Early in the morning--it was a rough morning, and we were in a heavy, -wintry sea--the captain tapped at my door. I was too deadly ill even to -answer him; so he turned the handle and looked in. Seeing that I was -dressed, he advanced with a firm step, and, standing over me, said, in -the same voice with which he ordered the sailors to do things-- - -"Mrs. Filmer, you must come up on deck." - -I merely shook my head. I was powerless to lift a finger. - -"Oh, yes, you must. You will feel ever so much better in the air." - -"I can't," I wailed, and closed my eyes. I believe the tears were -running down my face. - -He stood for a minute in silence. I felt him looking at me. Then he -said, with a kindness in his voice that made me shake with sobs-- - -"I'll go and rig up a chair or something for you. Be ready for me when I -come back in ten minutes. If you can't walk, we will carry you." - -He departed, and the steerage woman arrived, very sulky. I was obliged -to accept her help this time. Captain Braye, I felt, did not mean to be -defied, and it was a physical impossibility for me to make a toilet for -myself. When he returned he brought the steward with him, and, before I -knew it, he had whisked a big rug round and round me, and taken me up in -his arms. I weighed about seven stone, and he is the strongest man I -know. The steward carried my feet, but it was a mere pretense of -carrying; he was only there as a sort of chaperon, because Tom was so -absurdly particular. Up on the poop, with the ship violently rolling -and pitching, the man could not keep his own feet, and let mine go, and -we did not miss him. Tom bore me safely and easily, like a Blondin with -his pole, to where he had fixed a folding-chair for me--it was his own -chair, for I had not been able to afford one--and there he set me down, -in the midst of pillows and an opossum rug, with that sort of powerful -gentleness which is the manliest thing I know. All at once he made me -feel that I was in shelter and at rest. As long as I remained on that -ship I could cease fighting with the difficulties of my lot. He would -take care of me. There are women who don't want men to take care of -them--I am not one of those; I have no vocation for independence. - -I found I could not sit in that chair, luxurious as it was. I think all -my worries and hard work and bad meals must have undermined me. Even -though Tom made me drink brandy and water, I could not hold myself up. - -"Oh," I sighed wretchedly, "I feel so faint and swimmy, I _must_ lie -down!" - -"So you shall," he answered, like a kind father, and he shouted to the -steward to bring up a mattress and pillows. In five minutes there was a -bed on the deck floor, and I was in it, swathed in fur and blankets, -like a chrysalis in its cocoon, more absolutely comfortable than I had -ever been in my life. I still felt ill and exhausted, and could not bear -the thought of food; but I breathed the sweet, cold, reviving air, and -yet was as warm as a toast, and no spray or rain could touch me. When he -had tucked me up to his satisfaction, placing his oilskins over all, he -took some rope and lashed me to the bars of the hen-coops behind me. And -there I lay all day, resting and dozing. No matter how the ship rolled, -it could not roll me out of my nest; being so secure, I felt the motion -to be soothing rather than the reverse. When not asleep, I gazed at the -pure sky and the gleaming tiers of sails, listened to the voices of the -wind and of the sea, and watched the stalwart figure of my dear -commander. At short intervals he would come over to ask if I was all -right; and at least once an hour he brought something with him--brandy -and water or strong broth--and fed me with it out of a spoon. Oh, Tom! -Tom! And I had almost forgotten what it was like to be tended and cared -for in that way. - -In a day or two I was well enough to walk about the ship and occupy -myself, and he was more reserved with me again. But still I always knew -that he was keeping guard over my comings and goings, and I felt as safe -as possible. His officers and my fellow saloon-passengers--none of them -gentlemen like him--were too much interested in my movements after I -began to move, and his eye seemed always upon them. Now and then I was -embarrassed and annoyed, and at such moments he quietly stepped in to -relieve me, never making a fuss, but promptly putting people back into -their proper places. At the first hint of trouble of this sort he had a -spare cabin turned into a little sitting-room for me--my boudoir, he -called it--where I might always retire when I wanted privacy. I found it -a comfort at times, but still my sleeping-berth would have done almost -as well; for I never wanted any visitor but him, and he never asked to -come. When it was weather for it, I lived on the poop in his -folding-chair--always lashed ready for me--and that's where I preferred -to be. Even when not weather for it, I often begged to stay, for the -support of his company; and sometimes, but not always, he would allow me -to do so, making me fast with ropes, and surrounding me with a screen of -tarpaulin. For hours I would lie, like a cradled baby, and watch his -gallant figure and his alert eyes, and listen to his steady tramp, as he -went up and down. I had no fear of anything while he was there, and he -seemed always there. I learned afterwards how terribly he deprived -himself of rest and sleep because of his responsibility for the safety -of us all. - -For the Racer was an ancient vessel of the tramp description, little -fitted to do battle with such storms as we encountered. Her old timbers -creaked and groaned, as if in their last agony, when buffeted by the -heavy seas; and the way she took in water at the pores, without actually -springing leaks, was dreadful. The clacking of the pumps and the gushing -of the inexhaustible stream seemed always in one's ears, and when waves -broke over her and drained down through a stove-in skylight, of course -it was far worse--even dangerous. She simply wallowed about like a log, -too heavy and lumbering to get out of the way of anything. I could not -bear to see Tom's stern and haggard face, to know the strain he was -enduring, and that I could do nothing to lighten it; but as for -_danger_--I never thought of such a thing! Not that I am at all a -courageous person, as a rule. - -I believe we were somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Cape when the -most noteworthy of our experiences befell us. We were struggling with -the chronic "dirty" weather--absurd adjective for a thing so majestic -and inspiring!--and I was on deck, firmly tied to my chair, and my -chair to the mast, dry under oilskins, and only my face exposed to wind -and spray, which threatened to take the skin off. I could hardly see the -length of the ship through the spindrift of the gale, and the way it -shrieked in the rigging was like fiends let loose. Bee--a--utiful! - -And Tom wanted to spoil all my pleasure by shutting me down in a nasty, -stuffy, smelly, pitch-dark cabin, where I couldn't breathe and shouldn't -know anything that went on, nor have a soul to speak to. However, I was -getting used to him by this time, and so, when he staggered up and -announced that he had come to take me below, because it was no longer -fit for me to be on deck, I told him flatly that I would not go. - -"You must go," said he. - -"I won't go," said I. - -"The captain's commands must be obeyed, Mrs. Filmer." - -"Not in this case, Captain." - -"In every case, Madam." - -"Not a bit of it," I persisted, laughing in his face, which was rather -grim, but yet not quite inflexible. "I am not one of your sailors, to be -ordered about. I shall do what I like. And this is exactly what I like." - -He condescended to argue, and then of course I would not give in. He -said he must use force and carry me, but that was an obviously -impossible thing to do without my assistance, considering the angle of -the decks. When I saw him looking really worried, I condescended to -plead myself, and I suppose he could not resist that. He has told me -since that he never felt the same man after this act of weakness, but -I'm sure I cannot see where the weakness came in. With great difficulty, -and meanwhile flashing anxious glances hither and thither, he got more -rope and made fresh windings and tyings about me. - -"You are a spoilt child," was all he said. He did not look happy, but I -was very pleased with the issue of our encounter. I felt that it had -strengthened my position somehow--taken away all my awe and fear of -him--and I would not have missed my subsequent experiences on deck that -day for anything. - -They were really tremendous. No sooner had I been trussed up like an -Indian baby in preparation for contingencies--no sooner had Tom left me -to give his undivided attention to the ship--than the chronic gale -produced a spasmodic and special one which I am sure was a cyclone of -the first magnitude, though he would not give it that name in the book. -What he called nor'-nor'-east had been the direction of the storm we had -grown used to, but just before he asked me to go below it had shifted to -"nor'," and now it jumped all at once to "sou'-west," with effects upon -the sea and the poor ship that were truly startling. Those wall-sided -mountains of water, that were bad enough to get over when we knew which -way they were going, began a furious dance together, all jumbled up -anyhow; and the first treacherous monster created by the change of wind -crashed bodily inboard quite close to where I sat--"pooped" us, as Tom -expressed it--and, washing over me, simply swept all before it, -including the wheel and the two poor men steering, who were driven upon -rail and rigging with such force as to injure both of them. How my -lashings held as they did I cannot understand--or, rather, I can, of -course--when strong wood was being torn from iron fastenings; and how I -issued alive from that tremendous shower-bath is much more wonderful. It -must have been the packing round me that saved my bones from being -smashed like the boats and hen-coops. I heard Tom's shout of warning -just before I was overwhelmed, and when I emerged, and could expand my -breathless lungs, I answered him, with a strange and joyful lifting of -the heart, "All right! I'm safe! Don't mind me, Captain!" - -If he had minded me at that moment we should have been lost together, -ship and all. She began to broach to, as they call it, and the -supplementary wheel had to be used at once to stop it, and just then our -lives hung upon a hair. The decks were filled to the brim, and I could -hear the deluge thudding down through the shattered skylight upon the -table set for dinner. And she rolled all but bottom upwards, the broken -rail going under and I dangling in air above it, and--and, in short, if -any one but Tom had been her captain she would never have been heard of -from that day. I am quite convinced of that. No man born could have -accomplished what he did--he says, "Nonsense," but I know what I am -talking about--although I was just as sure that _he_ would accomplish it -as I was that the sun would rise next morning. I calmly held on to my -supports, and waited and watched. Sometimes I clenched my teeth and shut -my eyes, while I prayed for his preservation in the perils he did not -seem to see. He called to me at short intervals, "Are you all right?" -and I called back, "All right!" And when the worst was over for the -moment, he scrambled to where I was, and fixed me up afresh. Never shall -I forget the look on his face and the ring in his voice when he spoke to -me. "Brave girl! Brave girl!" I think it was the happiest moment of my -life. - -"But I don't understand it," he said to me, later, when there was time -to breathe and talk. "Why are you not frightened? When you were first on -board, crying because you were seasick----" - -"I did _not_ cry because I was seasick," I indignantly interposed, "but -because I was lonely and miserable. You would have cried if you had been -in my place." - -"I thought," he continued, heedless of the interruption, "that you were -a poor little baby creature, without an ounce of pluck in you. But -you've got the courage of a grenadier. How is it?" - -"It is because I am with you," I answered promptly. - -I don't know what feeling I allowed to get into my voice, but something -struck him. Motionless where he stood, he stared at the great waves -silently, for what seemed a long time; then abruptly walked forward to -give an order, and did not come back. - -We were mostly silent when we were together after that. How hard I tried -to think of a common topic to discuss, and could not! So did he. But -while I had nothing to do but to think, he was terribly preoccupied with -the condition of the ship. She had recovered to a certain extent, and -was able to stagger on again, but she was a living wreck, all splintered -and patched, and the difficulty of keeping the water down was greater -than before. The pumps were always clanking, and the carpenter -hammering, and the sailmaker putting canvas plasters over weak places. -The whole ship's company were glum and weary, and the passengers--wet, -ill-fed, and wretched--complained loudly all the time, indifferent as to -how much they added to the poor captain's cares. He, though firm with -everybody, never lost his temper, or seemed to give way to the -depression that must at times have weighed him down. He was worthy to -command who could so command himself--worthy to be a sailor, which is -the noblest calling in the world. As for me--well, it was no credit to -me that I, of all on board, was satisfied to be there, and consequently -happy. I kept a serene and smiling face to cheer him. It was the least -that I could do. - -And it did cheer him. To my unspeakable comfort I was assured of that, -though he did not say so. I could see it in his face, and hear it in his -voice, when now and then he came to sit beside me, evidently for rest -and peace. - -"And so," he said, on one of these occasions, speaking in an -absent-minded way--"and so you are not nervous with me? Well, I hope I -shall be able to justify your trust." - -"You will," I said calmly. "You could not help it." - -"Heaven knows!" he ejaculated. "The glass is falling again, fast." - -"Never mind the glass. It is always falling." - -"I wouldn't, if I had any sort of proper ship under me. But this----she -isn't fit for women to sail in." - -"If she is good enough for you," I remarked cheerfully, "she is good -enough for me." - -"But she isn't. I don't ask for much--at my age--but I do want a ship of -some sort, not a sieve. Oh, dear! oh, dear!"--looking round him with a -restless sigh--"we shall be months getting to Melbourne at this rate." - -"I don't care," I said, "if we are years." - -He made no comment on this statement, which I blushed to perceive was a -mistake; and I hastened to remind him that Edward's illness must have -been over long ago. Then he began, in an abrupt manner, to ask me how I -thought the passengers were bearing the trial of short rations which he -had been compelled to lay upon them. - -One day we were at great peace, because the weather was beautiful and -the water in the well diminished. A hammock of sailcloth had been made -for me, and slung in a nice place, and I lay there almost the whole day -through, swinging softly with the ship as she soared and dived over -mile-long billows or swayed in the deep beam swells with the airy -motion of a bird upon the wing. The Racer could feel like that at times, -even yet; and I was too happy for speech or thought--that is, in a sad -and pensive fashion. So, I know, was Tom, although he too had no words -and hardly a look for me as he paced to and fro. It was just the -consciousness that I was there--that he was there--permitted to rest -together for an interval from our battle with fate. Even the sight of -his substantial figure, never out of my mind's eye, while my other eyes -saw only the lifting and sinking of the gunwale against the gleaming, -silky sea--even the roar of his strong voice, occasionally using -"language" in a professional way--could not take away the sense as of an -enchanted world enveloping us, as if we were disembodied spirits in some -heavenly sphere. But I can't describe it. Perhaps the reader -understands. - -The night was lovelier than the day--there was a moon shining--and one -literally _ached_ with the sweetness of it. Each of us was on the way -to bed, and somehow we could not resist the temptation to linger by the -rail a little. The ship was under command of the chief officer, and all -was well for the time. We were alone where we stood. - -Speaking of the change of weather and his late responsibilities, he -said: "If I am ever so unfortunate as to lose the lives committed to me, -I shall just stand still and go down with the ship--when I have done -what I can do." - -"If that should come," I returned, "please don't put me into a boat and -send me off without you. Let me stand still and go down too." - -"Not if there's a chance for the boat," he said. - -We had spoken in a light way, but deep thoughts welled up in us. "Oh," I -broke out--for I had not his self-control--"oh, it would be better than -anything that could happen to me now!" - -All he said to that was "Hush--sh--sh!" but I could not check myself -immediately. - -"I would rather die that way than live--as I must live when I no longer -have you to take care of me!" I wailed, reckless. "Oh, I wish I could! I -wish I could!" - -And indeed I meant it. Even as we went down, I thought, he would keep -the sea monsters from terrifying and devouring me; he would take care of -me, regardless of himself--that was inevitable--until we were both dead. -The fear of death was nothing to the fear of life as it would present -itself at my journey's end. I had _no_ fear of death--with him. - -He laid his broad, brown hand on mine that clutched the rail--a solemn -gesture--and he said, in a shaking voice, "My dear, it's well you remind -me that it's my business to take care of you. We have got our duty to -do, both of us. Come, it's getting late; it's bed time. We mustn't stay -here in the moonlight and let ourselves get foolish." - -Still holding my hand, he led me downstairs. At the door of my cabin he -gave it a great strong squeeze, and then let it go without another -word. He did not kiss me. Oh, true heart! Death to him would have been -infinitely easier than the ordeal I made him suffer through those long -weeks. But he never allowed himself to be overcome. - -It was not long after this that the dreaded moment came when land was -reported. Words cannot describe my terror of the impending change. It -was my only safe haven--my home--from which I was, as I thought, to be -cast out, and I simply dared not imagine what sort of life awaited me. - -The crippled Racer anchored in Hobson's Bay at nightfall. Most of the -passengers went off in boats, and those who rowed to the ship returned -with them. Dressed in walking clothes, I sat in the little cabin that -had been my sitting-room, listening and shivering, trying (with the -example I had before me) to brace myself to meet things as a brave woman -should; but no one came for me. Only Tom. Rather late in the evening, -when all had gone except the steerage woman and her children, with whose -husband and father he had made some business arrangement, the captain -entered my private apartment alone for the first time. There was an -indescribable expression on his face, which had looked so fagged of -late. His eyes did not meet mine. His whole frame trembled like a -girl's. - -"Oh, has he come?" I cried--I believe I almost shrieked. - -"No," said he; "he hasn't come. You'd better go to bed now--go and sleep -if you can--and I'll tell you about it to-morrow." - -"What is it?" I implored. "What has happened? What have you heard? Oh, -tell me now, for pity's sake!" - -He sat down on the little bunk beside me, and took my hand between his -two hands; he did it as a father might do it, to support my weakness -under the shock coming. - -"The fact is, Mrs. Filmer--the fact is, dear--I sent ashore for news. I -thought I'd better make some inquiries first. And--and--and----" - -"I know--I know! He has left the country, and abandoned me again!" - -"No, poor fellow! He died of that illness--six months ago." - -At first I did not understand the meaning of the words. It was an event -that had never entered into my calculations, strange to say. But the -moment I realised the position--it is a dreadful, dreadful thing to -confess, but God knows I never meant any harm--my arms instinctively -went up to Tom's stooping shoulders and, hiding my face in his breast, I -nearly swooned with joy. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -IN THE EARLY DAYS. - - -I was not a girl, but a woman, when I married Tom. He, a man incapable -of grossness in any shape or form, was still a man, healthily natural, -of ripe experience in the ways of men. Whatever our faults in the -past--if they were faults--the result was to teach us what we could -never otherwise have learned, the meaning of wedlock in its last -perfection. Don't let any one run down second marriages to me! The way -to them must necessarily be painful and troubled, and one always desires -passionately to keep one's children out of it; but the end of the -journey, bringing together, open-eyed to all the conditions, educated to -discriminate and understand, two born mates like Tom and me--ah, well! -One mustn't say all one thinks about these matters--except, of course, -to him. - -Talking of being open-eyed, I was so blind at one time as actually to -fancy that he was in no hurry to have me. When I gave him to -understand--hardly knowing what I did--that I should die or something -without him to take care of me, he said he asked nothing better than to -take care of me, God knew, but that how to do it for the best was what -bothered him. It did not bother me in the slightest degree. I depended -on him--only on him of all the world--and I told him so; and yet he -wanted, after _that_, to send me back to my father with some old woman -whom I had never seen, in another ship, while he took the Racer -home--which never would have got home, nor he either. And I a married -woman, independent in my own right, and over twenty-one! However, I -flatly refused to go, except with him, as I had come. He said he would -not trust my life to that rotten tub again, and I said--I forget what I -said; but I hurt his feelings by it; and then I cried bitterly, and -said I would go out and be a housemaid. - -The deadlock was suddenly ended by the Racer being condemned by the -authorities of the port as unfit for sea again. When that happened we -both decided to stay in the new country, and, having him near me, I was -quite content to postpone matrimony until things became a little -settled. It was soon plain enough that he was not anxious to postpone -for the mere sake of doing so; he only wanted a clear understanding with -father first, as well as with his owners, and to give me time for second -thoughts, and for considering the advice of my family. - -It took long for letters to come and go, and I began to be haunted in my -walks by a strange man, who--I suppose--admired me. Tom found this out -on the same day that he accepted an appointment as chief officer with a -Melbourne shipping company. I could not imagine what had happened when -he came to see me at my poor lodging with such a resolute face. - -"Mary," he said, "who's that fellow hanging round outside? I've seen him -several times." - -"Tom," I protested sincerely, "I don't know any more than you do. But he -is a rude man; he stares at me and follows me, and I can't get rid of -him. Of course, he sees that I am----" I was going to say "unprotected," -and hastily substituted "alone," which was not much better. - -"Well, now, look here--I've got a ship, Mary"--he did not pain me with -further explanations on that head; later I wept to think of his -subservient position in that ship--"and this means an income, dear. Not -much, but perhaps enough----" - -"Does it mean that you are going away?" I cried, terrified. - -"Not far. Only for a few days at a time. I start on Friday. This is -Monday." - -He took my hands; he looked into my eyes; I knew him so well that I knew -just what he was going to say. The colour poured into my face, but I -made no mock-modest pretence of being shy or shocked. - -As a preliminary, he questioned me as if I were on trial for my life. -"Answer me _quite_ truthfully, Mary"--he called me Mary before we were -married, but always Polly afterwards--"tell me, on your solemn word of -honour, do you love me--beyond all possible doubt--beyond all chance of -changing or tiring, after it's too late?" - -I told him that I loved him beyond doubt, beyond words, beyond -everything, and should do so, I was absolutely convinced, to my life's -end. I further declared that he knew it as well as I did, and was simply -wasting breath. - -"And you really and truly do wish to marry me, Mary?" - -I attempted to laugh at his tragic gravity and his awkward choice of -words. I said I didn't unless he did, that I wouldn't inconvenience him -or force his inclination for the world. I asked him, plainly, whether he -thought that quite the way to put it. - -"Yes," he said. "For I want to make sure that I--that -circumstances--are not taking advantage of you while you are young and -helpless. And yet how can I be sure?" - -He took my face between his hands and gazed at it, as if he would look -down through my eyes to the bottom of my soul. I shut them after a -moment, and tears began to ooze between the lids at the thought that he -could doubt me. One trickled out and splashed upon his knee, and my -heart began to heave with the impulse to cry in earnest. Then he drew my -face--drew me into his arms, and we sat a little without speaking, -hearing our hearts thump. - -"We'll chance it, shall we?" he whispered between short breaths. "Sooner -or later it must come to that, and better as soon as possible if I have -to leave you in Melbourne alone. You won't be so much alone if you -belong to me, even when I am away--will you, sweetheart?" - -I merely sighed--that kind of long, full, vibrating sigh which means -that your feelings are too deep for words. - -"I think I shall be able to answer to your father--I hope so," he -continued, rallying his constant self-control. "I think I am justified, -Mary. If not----" - -But I would not let him go upon that tack. Justification was absolute, -in my view of the case. I know what the ill-natured reader will say--she -will say that I threw myself at his head, that I forced myself upon him, -that I did not give him a chance to get out of marrying me if he had -wanted to; but that is only because she knows nothing whatever about it. -I cannot explain. I simply state the fact that we had one mind between -us on the matter, and if she doesn't believe me I can't help it. - -"This is Monday," Tom repeated, "and I sail on Friday. If we are going -to do it, Mary, I'd like it done before I leave. There's nothing to wait -for, if we don't wait for the letters, is there?" - -I told him nothing--that I was in his hands; and he proposed that we -should walk out then and there to find some one to "splice" us, as he -appropriately termed it, because it would be so much easier to attend to -all the other business after we were man and wife than before. - -Sailors have a terse way of acting as well as of speaking, and the -change that made life such a different thing for both of us actually -took place that very day as ever was. When the unknown admirer would -have followed young Mrs. Filmer in her evening walk--it was too hot to -go out earlier--there was no such person. Mrs. Braye was dining -delicately at a pleasant seaside hostelry, in the company of her lawful -protector, whose name alone was like a charm to keep his proud wife in -safety. - -We gave ourselves until Wednesday morning. Then we worked all Wednesday -and Thursday, like two navvies, to settle ourselves in the small lodging -that we selected for our first home. We were as poor as poor could be -and had to proceed accordingly, but little I cared for that, or for -anything now that I had him. On Friday afternoon he sailed--a -subordinate on that trumpery intercolonial boat, after being captain and -lord of an English ship--and I cried all night, and counted the hours -all day till he returned, when I went quite daft with joy. Not that much -joy was allowed us, even now, seeing that the greater part of his short -sojourn in port had to be spent on board. But it was wonderful what -value we could cram into the precious minutes when we did get them. -Again we had the agony of parting, the weary interval of separation, the -renewed bliss of the return, continually intensified; and then the -letters came--the letters we had tried, so unsuccessfully, to wait for. -Father desired me to come home for a time--a foregone conclusion--and -Miss Coleman did the same in more impassioned sentences. I daresay it -was heartless, but I laughed and danced with delight to know that it was -all too late for advice of that sort. And, to counteract any possible -feeling of remorse, Aunt Kate wrote in the sweetest way, all fun and -jokes, practically approving and encouraging me in the course I had -taken. To a young woman so situated, she said, fathers were quite -useless and superfluous, and she advised me to please myself, as I had -always done--that was how she put it. Best of all, she sent me a draft -for £500, either to come home with or for a wedding present, as the case -might be. And this precious windfall enabled us to take a little private -house that we could make a proper home of. - - * * * * * - -The worst of being on these small lines is the uncertainty about the -movements of your ship. In winter Tom would run one trip for months, or -suddenly stop in the middle for docking and repairs--a mere excuse for -laying up, I used to say, because trade was not paying expenses--in -which case he would have a holiday without salary, and the pleasure of -his companionship would be marred by anxieties about money. In summer -there were occasional special excursions, "round tours," that kept him -away for a month or six weeks at a time; and these were what I dreaded -most. - -We had not yet had this long separation, but I knew--knew, but would not -admit--there was danger of it when we had been married a little less -than a year. It was our second Australian summer, and the time of all -times when I could not endure to part from him. I had now grown -accustomed to having him at home for a day and a couple of nights -weekly--happily he had a command again, such as it was, and could do as -he liked in port--and that was far, far too little, under the -circumstances. - -He was sleeping late, and I, having prepared his breakfast, sat down by -an open window to read the morning paper until he should appear. As a -matter of course, I _always_ saw the name of our ship before I saw -anything else, even the Births, Marriages, and Deaths; she had her place -in a list of the company's vessels, with her sailing dates, in smallish -print, answering to her comparatively modest rank in life; my eye fell -on the exact spot by instinct in the moment of the page becoming -visible. I suppose it was the same instinct which to-day drew my first -glance to quite another column, where s.s. Bendigo stood in larger type. -My heart jumped and seemed to stop--"Christmas Holiday Excursion to West -Coast of New Zealand, if sufficient inducement offers." There it was! -And I felt I had all along expected it. - -I got up to run to Tom with the news. On second thoughts I decided to -let him have his sleep out before dealing him a blow that would spoil -his rest for many a night to come, and tramped round and round the -breakfast-table, moaning and wringing my hands, asking cruel Fate why -Christmas should be chosen--_this_ Christmas of all times--and how I was -to get through without my husband to take care of me. - -My husband looked most concerned when he saw what I was doing. "Hullo, -Polly, what's up?" was his greeting, as he faced me from the doorway; -and his bright home-look vanished like a lamp blown out. - -I could not speak for the rush of tears. I held out the newspaper, -pointing to the fatal spot, and, when he took it, abandoned myself upon -his shoulder. - -"Oh, Tom--Christmas! _Christmas_, Tom!" - -He read in silence, with an arm round my waist. For a whole minute and -more we heard the clock ticking. Then he cleared his throat, and said -soothingly: "After all, it mayn't come to anything--at any rate, not -till afterwards. People don't care to be away from their homes at -Christmas. It's only an approximate date." - -He was wrong. The postponements that invariably take place at other -times did not occur this time--as if on purpose. The hot weather set in -early, and it seemed that many people did desire to escape, not from it -only, but from the social responsibilities of the so-called festive -season. The Bendigo was a good boat, as everybody knew, and her captain -a great favourite with the travelling public. I don't wonder at it! So -that the passenger list filled rapidly, and every day brought us less -hope of a reprieve. Tom seemed a year older each time that he returned -from the regular voyage, bringing this information, and I know I nearly -drove him mad with my pale face and tear-sodden eyes. One day he told me -so. - -"_What_ am I to do?" he groaned, staring strangely. "How can I leave you -like this? I can't, I can't! and yet, if I don't go, Polly--it is all -our living, my dear----" - -Nothing ever frightened me so much. For _him_ to have that look of -agitation--my strong rock of protection and defence--he who had never -wondered what he was to do, but always knew and did it, while others -wondered--it was too shocking. I pulled myself together immediately. - -"After all," I said, with a gulp and a smile, "the other poor seamen's -wives have to take their chance of this sort of thing, so why not I?" - -"You," he replied, in his fond, stupid way, "are not like the others, my -pretty one." - -He meant that I was far more choice and precious. - -"Being pretty," I rejoined, "is no disadvantage that I know of, having -regard to the present circumstances. Now if I was delicate, then you -_might_ be anxious. Tommy, dear, I can't have you look like that! And -there's no reason in the world why I should not do as well as -possible--as well as everybody else does; indeed, I'm sure I shall. Of -course I shall miss you awfully--awfully"--my cheerful voice quavered in -spite of myself--"but there will be the proper people to look after me, -and--and--_think_ what it will be when you come back again!" - -He had me in his arms now, with my face under his left ear. - -"My brave girl!" he murmured. "My own brave girl!" - -Just as when he called me that before, my heart rose elated. I -determined to deserve the title. - -"Of course you must go," I said firmly; "it is our living, as you say. -No use having a family, and nothing to keep it on, is it? I suppose it -won't be _more_ than a month? A month is soon over. I can send you -telegrams. Don't you worry about me. I'm a wicked idiot to fret and -grumble; it is because you have spoiled me, love! I have got so used to -having you to take care of me----" - -I choked, and burst into fresh tears. - -However, I did manage to keep up very well until he went. Of course he -_had_ to go; we agreed about that. Not much of Aunt Kate's wedding -present was left by this time. We had our little home, all comfortable -and paid for, but his small salary comprised the whole of our current -income. It would never have done to jeopardise that. - -But oh, it was cruel! It _was_ cruel! He says I shall never understand -the agony of his soul when he bade me good-bye, and I tell him he can't -possibly have suffered the thousandth part of what I suffered. We -clasped and kissed as if we never expected to see each other again. I -really don't think we did expect it. And yet I was quite well and -strong, and every possible thing had been done to safeguard me in his -absence. Poor as we were, he made the nurse, who charged three guineas a -week, come into the house before he left it, and engage to stay there -till his return; and he also installed a nice old lady, whose son he had -befriended, and who he thought would be a mother to me when the time of -trial came. So she was; but not even an own mother could have made up -for the want of him. - -"God keep you safe for me," he prayed, as he held me to him, heart to -heart. "And you'll take care of yourself, my Polly. You won't fret, and -make yourself sick and weak--promise that you won't--for my sake!" - -"I won't," I answered him, trying to comfort him; "I will be as good as -possible. We'll _both_ be well and strong--well and happy--to meet you -when you come home again. Tom! Tom! _do_ you realise what the next -home-coming will be? Let us look forward to that." - -So I kept up to the last, to hearten him. The very last was the seeing -the ship go by at nightfall, on her way to sea. I lived where I lived on -purpose to have this view of her as she passed in and out. I watched for -her for an hour, and when she came it was too dark for me to see my -darling on the bridge through the strong glasses he had given me on -purpose that I might see him, and the flutter of his cabin towel against -the black funnel. Nor could he see me in the blue dusk of the shore, -with the evening afterglow behind it. But he sent a farewell toot across -the water, and I pulled the blind to the top of my window, and lit up my -room with every lamp and candle I could find. I knew he was looking, and -that he knew I knew it. We always signalled good-night in this way when -he passed out late. - -So I kept up to the very last. But when I saw his mast-head light go -round the pier, like a bright star in the evening sky, and glide towards -the sea that was to keep him from me so long when I wanted him so -desperately, then I collapsed like a spent bubble, and all my courage -went out of me. I think I fainted there by the window, all of a heap -upon the floor. - -At any rate, his back was hardly turned--he could scarcely have cleared -the Heads, we reckoned--when the catastrophe befell. I have often tried -to imagine what his feelings were when, at his first port of call, the -intelligence was conveyed to him that he had a son, and that mother and -child were doing well. He attempted to express them by letter, but he is -not literary. And he can't gush. All the same, I know--I know! - -Did I say that the happiest moment of my life was when he called me a -brave girl? I was wrong. The happiest moment of my life--even though Tom -was away from me--was the moment when I heard the first cry of my own -child. Words cannot describe the effect on me of that little voice so -suddenly audible, as great an astonishment as if one had never expected -it; but every mother in the world will understand. - -Oh, I am getting maudlin with these reminiscences! I can't help it. - -He was a beautiful boy--my Harry--worthy to be his father's son. We -called him Harry because Henry was Tom's second name, and also that of -my own father, whom I wished to please; for, after all, he was a good -father to me, and I used to think that perhaps I had not been as good a -daughter to him as I might have been. This thought occurred to me when I -had a baby of my own, and wondered how I should feel if, when he was -grown up, he were to take his own wilful way as I had done. It does make -such a difference in one's point of view, with regard to all sorts of -things--having a baby of one's own. For instance, I knew that Miss -Coleman--Mrs. Marsh, I ought to say--had two, and when Aunt Kate told me -I was actually angry about it; it seemed to me that it was just another -impertinence on her part, and that the children were interlopers in my -old home. I could not bear to picture them sitting on father's knee, and -being carried in his arms, filling my place and consoling him for the -loss of me. But now I was quite glad that he had them, and I sympathised -with Miss Coleman. I wished she could come and nurse me now, as she used -to do; how much better we should understand each other! I resolved to -have baby's likeness taken as soon as possible to send home to her, and -to ask her to send me the photos of her little ones in return. I was -convinced, of course, that there would be no comparison between them. -Doubtless hers were nice children enough--father was a particularly -handsome man, in the prime of life--but my baby was really a marvel; -_everybody_ said so. His proportions were perfect, his skin as fine and -pure as could possibly be, his little face too lovely for words, and his -intelligence simply wonderful. Before he was a week old he knew me and -smiled at me. He had Tom's fair hair and straightforward blue eyes---- - -However, I suppose all this is silly. At any rate, the silly fashion is -to call it so. - -It was dreadfully hot upstairs in that venetian-shuttered room, but -still I rallied quickly, and everything went well. The old lady was -indeed a mother to me, the nurse inflexibly conscientious, and my own -little maid like a faithful dog upon the doormat, constantly asking to -look at the baby and to be allowed to hold him. And yet--I know it was -ungrateful to them, but I could not help it--I never felt that I was -properly taken care of, because Tom was not behind them. I pined for -him--oh, _how_ I did pine for him!--happy as I was in every other -respect. While I was still weak, and inclined to be a little feverish, I -fell asleep and dreamed that the Bendigo had been wrecked, and that he -would never come home to see his child. I cannot describe how that dream -frightened me and haunted me--that, and the memory of our last parting, -when we seemed to have had so many forebodings. - -"If I could only go to him!" was my constant thought, knowing that weary -weeks had still to pass before he could return to me, even if his voyage -prospered; and once I put it into words, "If we could only go to him, -Mrs. Parkinson, _what_ wouldn't I give!" - -The old lady patted my shoulder soothingly, and assured me he would be -home in no time, if I would have but a grain of patience; while I had to -reflect that it was impossible to go a-travelling without money. I would -have "given anything" indeed, but I had nothing to give, though Tom had -amply provided for all my wants at home. Moreover, I could only have -left the house, while she was in it, over the dead body of my nurse. I -could manage the old lady, but not her; she was a rock of resolution -where her duty was concerned. - -Suddenly a series of things happened. The old lady had a telegram -summoning her to the sick-bed of her son--the very son that Tom had been -so good to--and flew to him, distracted. Poor old lady! My mother's -heart bled for her. And next day my little maid upset a kettle of -boiling water over the nurse (providentially, when the baby was not in -her arms), and the poor thing had to go to a hospital to have the -scalds dressed. She sent a substitute at once, because it was found that -she was for a few days incapacitated for her work; but I was able to -manage without the substitute. I told her I was now perfectly well--as -in truth I was--and therefore did not require her services. And the day -after that, by the English mail, I had a letter from _dear_ Aunt Kate, -which, when I opened it, shed a bank draft upon the floor. She had heard -that I was going to have a baby, and sent fifty pounds to pay expenses. -A box of baby-clothes, she said, had been despatched by the same ship; -for she didn't suppose I had any money to buy them, or that, if I had, I -could get anything in "that outlandish country" fit for a poor child to -wear. - -I went straight into town and cashed that draft, taking my son with -me--proud to carry him myself, though he nearly dragged my arms off. At -the same time I ascertained at the company's office that the Bendigo was -hourly expected to report herself from Sydney. - -"We will go to Sydney," said I to my little companion, as we travelled -home again, rich and free. "We'll get Martha's mother to come and keep -house until we all return together--with _father_ to take care of us." - -That same night I had a wire from him. He was safe at Sydney, all well; -and would I telegraph immediately to inform him how it was with me? -Would I also write fully and at once, so that he might get the letter -before he left? - -"We will telegraph immediately, to set his dear mind at rest," I said to -the son, who smiled and guggled as if he perfectly understood--and I am -sure he did; "but we won't write fully and at once. We can get to him as -quickly as a letter, and he would rather have us than a million letters. -Oh, what a simply overwhelming surprise we shall give him!" I was so -full of this blissful prospect that I never thought how I might be -embarrassing him in his professional capacity. - -There were no intercolonial railways then, and we could not have stood -the wear and tear of overland travel if there had been. Nor was there -any choice in the matter of sea transport. I was obliged to take the -mail steamer that brought me Aunt Kate's money, for it was the only -vessel going to Sydney that could get me there in time. I had to be very -smart to catch her, and just managed it, leaving my home at the mercy of -a plausible red-nosed charwoman who was all but a perfect stranger to -me. - -Of course I was an idiot--I know that; but, as Tom says, you can't put -old heads on young shoulders, and don't want to; and there is no -occasion to remember things of that sort now. _He_ never blamed me for a -moment, and I am sure I cannot regret what I did, when I weigh the -pleasures of that expedition against what in the end we had to pay for -them. They were richly worth it. - -The voyage, even without the nursemaid whom I did not feel justified in -adding to my other extravagances, not only did me no harm, but really -invigorated me. A new-made mother, I had been informed, was never -sea-sick, and my experience seemed to prove the fact; while as for baby, -in spite of his catching a little cold, which he might have caught at -home, the exquisite sea air must have been better for him than the -gutter smells of Melbourne. He was as good as gold, and the stewardess -was an angel, and we slept like tops all through our two nights on -board. - -It was afternoon when we entered Sydney Harbour--that beautiful harbour -which I had never seen before, but had no eyes for now. All I cared to -look at was my beloved Bendigo, and there she was at her berth, and the -blue-peter was up! When I saw that, I felt quite faint. I ran round the -deck asking everybody when she was expected to leave, and all but those -who did not know said at five o'clock. It was now three. So that, with -other weather, I might have missed her! And Tom would have gone home to -find----Great heavens! But with the misadventures that we did have, -there is no need to count those we didn't. As it chanced, I was in -plenty of time. - -It was nearly four before I could get off the mail boat, and it was -considerably past that hour when I hurried up the gangway of the -Bendigo, panting, and bathed in perspiration--for Sydney is a hot place -in January--looking everywhere for Tom. The second officer, who knew me, -uttered an exclamation as he ran to take my bag from the cabman; and the -way he looked at baby--then asleep, fortunately--was very funny. - -"Oh, Mr. Jones," I cried, "is the captain on board?" - -"No, Mrs. Braye; he's on shore," was the reply, accompanied with violent -blushes. "You must have missed him somehow. Are you--are you going back -with us?" - -"Of course I am," I said, as calmly as I could. "But he does not know it -yet. I had some business in Sydney, and I thought I would give him a -surprise. Don't tell him, please; I will go up to his cabin on the -bridge and wait for him." - -"He may be here any moment," said the young man. And, looking to right -and left in an embarrassed way, he asked if he should call the -stewardess. - -"Not yet," I returned affably. "I will ring when I want her. He will -sleep for a long time. He's such a good baby--not the least little bit -of trouble." And then I turned back the lace handkerchief from the -placid face, and asked Mr. Jones what he thought of that for a month-old -child. - -He said he was no judge, and behaved stupidly. So I left him, and went -up to the bridge, where Tom had a room composed of a bunk and a bay -window, entirely sacred to himself. I don't suppose a baby had ever been -in it, but the pillows and things I found there made a perfect cradle. -As I laid my little one down on his father's bed, I was afraid the -thumping of my heart would jog him awake, but it did not. He sank into -his nest without sound or movement, leaving me free to watch at the -window for Tom's coming. - -It was past five o'clock before he came, and I knew when I saw him why -he was so late. He had been looking for his expected letter up to the -last moment, and had now abandoned hope. I also knew that somebody on -deck had betrayed my secret when I heard the change in his step as he -ran upstairs. Ah--ah! Before I could arrange any plan for my reception -of him I was in his arms. Before either of us could ask questions, we -had to overcome the first effects of an emotion which arrested breath as -well as speech. Never when we were lovers had we kissed each other as we -did now. - -"But what--how--why--where?" the dear fellow stuttered, when we began to -collect our wits; and in the same bold and incoherent style I -simultaneously gave my explanation. Half a minute sufficed to dispose of -these necessary preliminaries. Then I led him into his own cabin, the -doorway of which I had been blocking up. - - * * * * * - -"But what are we going to do with him?" Tom asked--a singular question, -I considered, but he was full of the business of the ship--I wondered -how he _could_ think about the ship at such a moment. "Hadn't you better -make a nursery of my cabin on deck? It's empty, and the stewardess'll -rig you up whatever you want." - -"I will make a nursery of it," I replied, "when I want to bath and dress -him for the night. And, by the way, perhaps I had better do that now, -before we start." For our son had been wakened out of his sleep, in -order that his father should see how blue his eyes were. - -"Yes, yes, do it now," urged Tom, in a coaxing way. It was sweet of him -not to cloud my perfect happiness by hinting at the scandalous breach of -etiquette it would be to let a baby appear on the bridge while he was -taking the ship out. For my part, I never thought of it. - -He took me down to the deck, now crowded with people, who stared rudely -at us, and into the one cabin there, which was his own; and he called -the stewardess--a delightful woman, charmed to have the captain's baby -on board--and left us together, while he rushed off to speak with the -superintendent of the Sydney office, I suppose about my passage. Soon -afterwards we started, and until we were away at sea I was fully -occupied with Harry's toilet. Then came dinner, and Tom made me go in -with him, while the stewardess stayed with the child; and the short -evening was taken up with preparations for the night. It was arranged -that I should spend it in the nursery, of course, and I was strongly -advised to retire early. - -But the cabin was hot, and the outside air was cool, and I simply could -not rest so far from Tom. The moonlight was lovely at about ten o'clock, -so bright that, stepping out on the now deserted deck to look for him, I -could plainly see his figure moving back and forth at the end of the -bridge, outlined against the sky. And I could not bear it. Slipping back -into my room to pick up my child and roll him in a shawl, I prepared to -storm the position with entreaties that I felt sure my husband was not -the husband to withstand. - -He came plunging down the stairs just as I was about to ascend. I -stopped, and called to him. - -"Tom, _do_ let me be with you!" - -"I was on my way to you, Polly, to see if you were awake, and would like -to come up for a little talk. It's quiet now." - -He put his arm round my waist, and turned to hoist me upward. - -"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "Is that----" - -"Of course it is. You wouldn't have me leave him behind, all alone by -himself?" - -"But won't he catch his death of cold?" - -"How can he, on a night like this? It will do him good. And I won't let -him cry, Tom." - -"Give him to me. I'll carry him up." - -"_Can_ you?" - -He laughed, and took the little creature from me in a delightfully -paternal fashion, and without bungling at all. I had been half afraid -that he was going to turn out like so many men--like Mr. Jones, for -instance--but had no misgivings after that. Even when we encountered Mr. -Jones on duty, he was not ashamed to let his officer see him with an -infant in his arms. Certainly he was born to be a father, if anybody -ever was. - -It was very stuffy in his little house, which had the funnel behind it; -so he put a chair for me outside, under the shelter of the screen, and I -sat there for some time. It was simply the _sweetest_ night! The sea is -never still, of course, however calm it may be, but its movements were -just as if it were breathing in its sleep. And the soft, wide shining of -the moon in that free and airy space--what a dream it was! At intervals -Tom came and dropped on the floor, so that he could lean against my knee -and get a hand down over his shoulder. The man at the wheel could see -us, but carefully avoided looking--as only a dear sailor would do. The -binnacle light was in his face, and I watched him, and saw that he never -turned his eyes our way. As for Prince Hal, he slept as if the sea were -his natural cradle. So it was. - -Presently Tom went off the bridge, and when he returned a steward -accompanied him, carrying a mattress, blankets, and pillows, which he -made up into a comfortable bed beside me. - -"How will that do?" my husband inquired, rubbing the back of a finger -against my cheek. "It isn't the first time I've made you a bed on -deck--eh, old girl?" - -I was wearing a dressing-gown, and lay down in it, perfectly at ease. He -lowered the child into my arms, punched the pillows for our heads, -tucked us up, and kissed us. - -"This is on condition that you sleep," he said. - -"It is a waste of happiness to sleep," I sighed ecstatically. "I want to -lie awake to revel in it." - -"If I see you lying awake an hour hence," he rejoined, pretending to be -stern, while his voice was so full of tenderness that he could scarcely -control it, "I shall send you back to your cabin, Polly." - -So I did not let him see it. But for several hours, when he was not -looking, I watched his dear figure moving to and fro, and the sea, and -the stars, with the smoke from the funnel trailing over them, and -revelled in full consciousness of my utter bliss. - -Even now--after all these years--I get a sort of lump in my throat when -I think of it. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -A PAGE OF LIFE. - - -Does love fly out of the window when poverty walks in at the door? No, -no--of course not! Only when love is an imitation love, selfish and -cowardly, as true love can never be. I am sure ours stayed with us -always, no matter how cramped and starved. We never felt a regret for -having married each other, even when the practical consequences were -most unpleasant--never, never, not for a single instant. And yet--and -yet--well, it is all over now. One need not make one's self gratuitously -uncomfortable by reviving memories of hardships long gone by, and never -likely to be repeated. - -Another thing. _Is_ it fair that a sea-captain should have such -miserable wage for such magnificent work? He has no play-hours, like -other working men, no nights' rest, no evenings at home, no Saturday -holidays--no Sundays even--and no comfort of his wife and family. He is -exposed to weather that you would not turn a dog into, and to fatigue -only measured by the extent of human endurance; and accepts both without -a thought of protest. He has the most awful responsibilities continually -on his mind, as to which he is more inflexibly conscientious than any -landsman living; and he is broken and ruined if an accident happens that -he is but technically to blame for and did his utmost to prevent. Yet -all he gets in return is a paltry twenty pounds a month! At least, that -is what Tom got--with an English certificate and a record without a -flaw. It is because sailors are not money-grubbers, as landsmen are, -that the money-grubbers take advantage of them. - -Tom used to bring his money home and give it all to me, and he almost -apologised for having to ask for a little now and then, to provide -himself with clothes and tobacco. Moreover, he never pried into my -spendings, though anxious that I should be strict and careful, and -pleased to be asked to advise me and to audit my small accounts. In this -he was the most gentlemanly husband I ever heard of. And of course I -strained every nerve to manage for the best, and prove myself worthy of -the confidence reposed in me. But I was not much of a housekeeper in -those days. At home Miss Coleman had attended to everything, even to the -buying of my frocks; for my father had never made me an allowance--which -I do think is so wrong of fathers! If you are not taught the value of -money when you are a girl, how are you to help muddling and blundering -when you are a married woman?--especially if you marry a poor man. I -thought at first that twenty pounds a month was riches. But even at the -first, and though we used enough of Aunt Kate's wedding present to cover -the cost of setting up a house, there seemed nothing left over at the -month's end, try as I would to be economical. When the second draft -came I had doctor's and nurse's fees like lead upon my mind; we did not -invest that hundred at all, and it melted like smoke. And then--before -Harry was fairly out of arms--Phyllis was born, and I was delicate for a -long time; without a second servant my nursery cares would have killed -me. I thought Aunt Kate would have sent me help again, but she did -not--perhaps because I had neglected to write to her, being always so -taken up with household cares. And I got into arrears with the -tradesmen, and into the way of paying them "something on account," as I -could spare the money and not as it was due; and this wrecked the -precise system that Tom had made such a point of, so that I kept things -from him rather than have him worried when he wanted rest. And it was -miserable to be struggling by myself, weighed down with sordid -anxieties, tossing awake at night to think and think what I could do, -never any nearer to a solution of the everlasting difficulty, but rather -further and further off. And I know I was very cross and fretful--how -could I help it?--and that my poor boy must often have found the home -that should have cheered him a depressing place. He seemed not to like -to sleep while I was muddling about, and used to look after the -children, or clean the knives and boots, when he should have been -recruiting in his bed for the next voyage. For I was again obliged to do -as I could with one poor maid-of-all-work, and I am afraid--I really am -a little afraid sometimes--that I have a tendency to be inconsiderate -when I have much to think of. - -By the time that Bobby was born--we had then been five years -married--all the romance of youth seemed to have departed from us, dear -as we were to one another. Our talk when we met was of butchers and -bakers, rents and rates, the wants of the house and how they could be -met or otherwise; and we had to shout sometimes to make ourselves heard -above the noise of crying babies and the clack of the sewing-machine. It -was exactly like the everyday, commonplace, perfunctory, prosaic -married life that we saw all around us, and to the level of which we had -thought it impossible that _we_ should ever sink. - -Tom says, no. On second thoughts I do too. The everyday marriage was not -dignified with those great moments of welcome and farewell, those tragic -hours of the night when the husband was fighting the wind and sea and -the wife listening to the rattle of the windows with her heart in her -mouth--such as, for the time being, uplifted us above all things tame -and petty. And what parents, jogging along in the groove of easy custom, -can realize the effect of trials such as some of those that our peculiar -circumstances imposed on us, in keeping the wine of life from growing -flat and stale. The same thing happened at Bobby's birth as at Harry's, -Tom was perforce away, and I might have died alone without his knowing -it. Three months later the little one took convulsions and was given up -by the doctor; and the father again was out of reach, and might have -come home to find his baby underground. Never shall I forget those -times of anguish and rapture--and many besides, which proved that -nothing in the world was of any consequence to speak of compared with -our value to one another. - -But we forget so soon! And the little things have such power to swamp -the big ones. They are like the dust and sand of the desert, which cover -everything if not continually dredged away. And all those little debts -and privations and schemings and strugglings to make ends meet that -would not meet, were enough to choke one. Especially as Bobby cut his -teeth with more trouble than any baby I ever had, and as I, what with -one thing and another, grew quite disheartened and out of health, so -that I never knew what it was not to feel tired. - -The ignoble sorrows of this period--which I hate to think of--seemed to -culminate on the morning of the day that I am going to tell of--at the -end of which they were so joyfully dispelled. - -Bobby had cried incessantly through the night, so that I had only slept -in snatches, just enough to make me feel more heavy and yawny than if I -had not slept at all. I dragged myself dispiritedly out of bed, dying -for the cup of tea which did not appear till an hour after its time, and -was then brought to me rank and cold from standing, with no milk in it. - -"I forgot to put the can out last night," was Maria's cheerful -explanation, "and I waited in hopes that the milkman would come back, -but he didn't. And, please'm, what shall I do about the children's -breakfast?" - -"You mean to say you never left a drop over from yesterday, in case of -accidents?" I demanded, tears rushing into my eyes. "Oh, Ma-_ria!_" - -It sounds a poor thing to cry about, but I appeal to mothers to say if I -was a fool. Bobby was a bottle baby, and we had all our milk from one -cow on his account; and he was ill, and the dairy at least a mile away. -Rarely had I trusted Maria to remember to put the can out for the -morning supply, delivered before she was up; I used to hang it on the -nail myself. But last night, having my hands so full, I had contented -myself with telling her twice over not to forget it. With this result! -At any moment the poor child might awake and cry for food, and a -spoonful of stale dregs was all I had for him. - -There and then, with clenched teeth and a lump in my throat, and boots -on my feet that had mere rags of soles to them, I set off with the -milk-can to that distant dairy. It was a thick morning, and presently -rained in torrents. When I arrived, drenched to the skin, I was told -that all the milk was with the cart, and I had to wait half an hour -until the proprietress could be persuaded to give me a little. She was -unsympathetic and disobliging--I suppose because I had not paid her -husband for three months. On my return home Bobby, in Maria's arms, was -shrieking himself into another fit of convulsions; and the other -children, catching their deaths of cold in their nightgowns, were -paddling about on flagstones and oilcloth, fighting and squalling, and -trying to light the dining-room fire. They imagined they were helping, -but had spilled coals all over the carpet and used the crumb-brush to -spread the black dust afterwards; and the wonder is that they didn't -burn the house down. - -It was not quite just perhaps--poor little things, they _were_ trying -their best--but the first thing I did was to box the ears of both of -them and send them back to bed. I don't think I ever saw them, as -babies, take so small a punishment so greatly to heart. They snuffled -and sulked for hours--wouldn't even show an interest in the apricot jam -and boiled rice that I gave them for their breakfast and imagined would -be a treat to them--and were more vexatious and tiresome than words can -say. - -"I wish father was home," Harry kept muttering, in that moody way of -his; it is the thing he always said when he wanted to be particularly -aggravating. "Phyllis, I wish father was here, don't you?" - -"Oh," I cried, "you don't wish it more than I do! If father were here, -he'd pretty soon make you behave yourselves. _He_ wouldn't let you drive -your mother distracted when she's already got so much to worry her, with -poor little brother sick and all." Tears were in my eyes, as they must -have seen, but the heartless little brats were not in the least -affected. - -And father's absence was an extra anxiety, for he was hours and hours -behind his time. The papers reported fogs along the coast, and I thought -of shipwrecks as the day wore on, and began to feel that it would be -quite consistent with the drift of things if I were to get news -presently that the Bendigo had gone down. I knew how he dreaded fogs, -which made a good navigator as helpless as a bad one, and wondered if it -implied an instinctive presentiment that a fog was to be his ruin! I -remembered his telling me that if ever he was so unfortunate as to lose -his ship, he should cast himself away along with her; and the appalling -idea filled me not with anguish only, but with a sort of indignation -against him. - -"And he with a young family depending on him!" I cried in my heart--as -if he had already done it--"and a wife who would die if he went from -her!" - -I was in that state of mind and health that when, early in the -afternoon, I heard him come stumbling in, my solicitude for him suddenly -passed, and only the bitter sense of grievance remained. The grocer had -been calling in person, insolent about his account, which indeed had -been growing to awful dimensions; and I was fairly sick of the whole -thing. It was not my poor old fellow's fault, for he gave me his money -as fast as he got it, but somehow I felt as if it was. And when he -dumped down on the sofa beside me to look at Bobby, I began at -once--without even kissing him--to pour out all my woes. - -I was reckless with misery and headache, and did not care what I said. I -told him things I had been scrupulously keeping from him for -months--things which I imagined would harrow him frightfully, much to my -sorrow when it would be too late. And he--even _he_--seemed callous! He -mumbled a soothing word or two, and fell silent. I asked him for advice -and sympathy, and he never answered me. - -Looking at him, I saw that his eyes were shut, his head dropped, his -great frame reeling as he sat, trying to prop himself with his broad -hands on his broad, outspread knees. - -"Tom," I cried in despair, "you're not listening to a word I'm saying!" - -He jerked himself up. - -"I beg your pardon, Polly. The fact is, I'm dead-beat, my dear. It has -been foggy, you know, and I haven't dared to turn in these two nights." - -It seemed as if _everything_ was determined to go wrong. I could see -that his eyelids were swollen and gummy, and that he was half stupefied -with fatigue. - -"What a shame it is!" I passionately complained. "What wretches those -owners are--sitting at home in their armchairs, wallowing in luxury, -while they make you slave like this--and give you next to nothing for -it!" - -"It's no fault of theirs," said he. "They can't help the weather. And -when I've had a few hours' sleep I shall be as right as ninepence. Then -we'll talk things over, pet, and I'll see what can be done." - -I rose, with my sick child in my arms, and he stumbled after me into our -bedroom. For the first time it was not ready for him. I had been so -distracted with my numerous worries that I had forgotten to make the bed -and put away the litter left from all our morning toilets; the place was -a perfect pigsty for him to go into. And he coming so tired from the -sea--looking to his home for what little comfort his hard life afforded -him! When I saw the state of things, I burst into tears. With an -extremely grubby handkerchief he wiped them away, and kissed me and -comforted me. - -"What the deuce does it matter?" quoth he. "Why, bless your heart, I -could sleep on the top of a gatepost. Just toss the things on -anyhow--here, don't you bother--I'll do it." - -He was contented with anything, but I felt shamed and heart-broken to -have failed him in a matter of this kind--the more so because he _was_ -so unselfish and unexacting, so unlike ordinary husbands who think wives -are made for no other purpose than to keep them always comfortable. In -ten minutes he was snoring deeply, and I was trying not to drop tears -into the little stew I was cooking for his tea. - -"At least he shall have a nice tea," I determined, "though goodness -knows how I am going to pay for it." - -Poor baby was easier, and asleep in his cradle; the two others had gone -to play with a neighbour's children. So the house was at peace for a -time, and that was a relief. It was also an opportunity for -thinking--for all one's cares to obtrude themselves upon the mind--and -the smallest molehills looked mountains under the shadow of my physical -weariness. - -Having arranged the tea-table and made up the fire, I sat down for a -moment, with idle hands in my lap; and I was just coming to the sad -conclusion that life wasn't worth living--wicked woman that I was!--when -I heard the evening postman. Expecting nothing, except miserable little -bills with "account rendered" on them, I trailed dejectedly to the -street door. Opening it, a long-leaved book was thrust under my nose, -and I was requested to sign for a registered letter. - -"Ah-h-h!" I breathed deeply, while flying for a pen. "It is that -ever-blessed Aunt Kate--I know it is! She seems to divine the exact -moment by instinct." - -I scribbled my name, received the letter, saw my father's handwriting, -and turned into the house, much sobered. For father, who was a bad -correspondent--like me--had intimated more than once that he was finding -it as much as he could do to make ends meet, with his rapidly -increasing family. - -I sat down by the fire, opened the much-sealed envelope, and looked for -the more or less precious enclosure. I expected a present of five pounds -or so, and I found a draft for a hundred. The colour poured into my -face, strength and vigour into my body, joy and gladness into my soul, -as I held the document to the light and stared at it, to make sure my -eyes had not deceived me. Oh, what a pathetic thing it is that the -goodness of life should so depend upon a little money! Even while I -thought that hundred pounds was all, I was intoxicated with the prospect -before me--bills paid, children able to have change of air, Tom and I -relieved from a thousand heartaches and anxieties which, though they -could not sour him, yet spoiled the comfort of our home because they -sapped my strength and temper. - -I ran to wake him and tell him how all was changed in the twinkling of -an eye; but when I saw him so heavily asleep, my duty as a sailor's -wife restrained me. Nothing short of the house burning over his head -would have justified me in disturbing him. I went back to my -rocking-chair to read my father's letter. - -Well, here was another shock--two or three shocks, each sharper than the -last. My beloved aunt was dead. She had had an uncertain heart for -several years, and it had failed her suddenly, as is the way of such. -She went to church on a Sunday night, returned in good spirits and -apparently good health, ate a hearty supper, retired to her room as -usual, and was found dead in her bed next morning when her maid took in -her tea. This sad news sufficed me for some minutes. Seen through a -curtain of thick tears, the words ran into each other, and I could not -read further. Dear, dear Aunt Kate! She was an odd, quick-tempered old -lady, cantankerous at times; but how warm-hearted, how just and -generous, how good to me, even when I did not care to please her! When -one is a wife, and especially when one is a mother, all other -relationships lose their binding power; but still I could not help -crying for a little while over the loss of Aunt Kate. And I can honestly -say that I did not think of her money until after I had wiped my eyes -and resumed reading. When I turned over a leaf and saw the word, I -remembered the importance of her will to all her relatives. I said to -myself, "After all, the hundred pounds does come from her. It is her -legacy to me." And I was sordid enough to feel a pang of disappointment -because--being her last bequest--it was so small. - -"We buried her yesterday," wrote father, "and the will was read after -the funeral, and has proved a great and painful surprise to us. She has -left the bulk of her money to a man I never even heard of, an engineer -in India. Uncle John says his father was an admirer of hers when she was -a girl, but she never mentioned the name--Keating--to me, and I can't -understand the thing at all. She was always eccentric, and some of us -think we might contest the will with a fair chance of success. However, -my lawyer advises to the contrary, and my wife also; so I, for one, -shall let it go. - -"She has not altogether forgotten her own family. There are a number of -small legacies, including £2,000 for myself, which will come in very -usefully just now, though not a tithe of what I expected. I have also -some plate and furniture. You, my dear girl, are the best off of us all. -Besides jewellery and odds and ends, she has left you the interest of -£10,000 (in Government securities) for life, your children after you. -This will give you an income of £300 a year--small, but absolutely -safe--and relieve my mind of many anxieties on your behalf." He went on -to tell me about powers of attorney and other legal matters that I did -not understand and thought unworthy of notice at such a moment. He also -explained that lawyers were a dilatory race, and that he was advancing -£100 to tide me over the interval that must elapse before affairs were -settled. - -Again I went into my room and looked at Tom. How _could_ he sleep in a -house so charged with wild excitement! I regret to say it was that, and -not grief, which made my heart throb so that I wonder he did not feel -the bedstead shaking, and the very floor and walls. I ached with -suppressed exclamations; I tingled with an intolerable restlessness, as -if bitten by a thousand fleas. And still he lay like a log, drawing his -breath deeply and slowly, with soft, comfortable grunts; and still, in -an agony of self-control, I refrained from touching him. Baby woke up, -moist and smiling. His tooth was through; he seemed to know that it was -his business to get well at once. It is not only misfortunes that never -come singly; good luck is a thing that seldom rains but it pours. Harry -and Phyllis came home, took their tea peaceably, and went to bed like -lambs. I sent Maria, with half a sovereign, to a savoury cook-shop where -they sold fowls and hams and all sorts of nice things ready for table, -and she brought back a supper fit for a prince. - -"It is all right, Maria," I assured her, in my short-breathed, vibrating -voice, seeing her wonder at my extravagance. "I am rich now. I can -afford the captain something better than a twice-cooked stew. Spend it -all, Maria, on the best things you can get. And you shall have your -wages to-morrow, and a present of a new frock." - -When all was ready--the glazed chicken, the juicy slices of pink ham, -the wedge of rich Stilton, the bottle of English ale--I returned again -to my unconscious spouse. It was ten o'clock, and he had been sleeping -with all his might for seven hours. Surely that was enough! Especially -as he still had the whole night before him. I stroked his hair--I kissed -his forehead--I kissed his shut eyes. He can resist everything but that; -when I kiss his eyes he is obliged to stir and murmur and want kisses -for his lips. He stirred now, and turned up his dear old face. - -"Pol----" - -"Yes, darling, it's me. Are you awake?" - -He sighed luxuriously. - -"Tommy, _are_ you awake?" - -"Wha's th' time?" - -"It's _awfully_ late. Come, you won't sleep to-night if you don't get up -now." - -"Oh, sha'n't I? I could sleep for a week if I had the chance. Ah-hi-ow!" -He yawned like a drowsy lion. "I'd sooner have twenty gales than one -fog, Polly." - -"I know you would. But never mind about gales and fogs and trivial -things of that kind. I've something far, far more important to talk to -you about--something that will make your very hair stand on end with -astonishment. Only I want to be quite sure first that you are awake -enough to take it in." - -He called his faculties together in a moment as if I had been the -look-out man reporting breakers, and was all alive and alert to deal -summarily with the situation, whatever it might be. And I rushed upon my -story, showed him the letter and the draft, and poured out a jumbled -catalogue of all the things we could now do that wanted doing--beginning -with a leaking kettle and ending with his professional appointment, -which I had decided must be resigned forthwith. - -"And we will live together always and always, like other husbands and -wives, only that we shall be a thousand times happier," I concluded, as -I led him in to his supper, hanging on his arm. - -"No more fogs and gales, to wear you out and perhaps drown you in the -end, but your bed every night, and your armchair by the fire, your home -and family, and me--_me_----" - -"Little woman! But you mustn't forget, pet, that I'm not thirty-eight -till next birthday. A man can't give up work and sink into armchairs at -that age." - -"Of course he can't. We can find some nice post ashore. There are plenty -of things, if you look for them." - -"Not for sailor men, who know nothing but their trade." - -"Oh, heaps--any amount of heaps! And you can take your time, of course. -No need to hurry for a year or two. You want a long holiday. You have -never had one yet. And _I_ want _you_. What's the use of money, if we -can't enjoy it together? We have not had so much as one whole month to -ourselves since we were married." - -"Well, a sailor's wife must accept the conditions, you know." - -"Yes, when necessary. But it is not necessary now that we are people of -independent means." - -"Three hundred a year isn't three thousand. And we've got to educate the -kids, and put by for them." - -"No need to put by for them when they are to have my money after I am -dead." - -"For myself, then. You wouldn't like to die and leave me to sell matches -in the streets?" - -"Oh, Tom, don't talk about dying--now that it's so sweet to be alive!" - -"My dear, you began it. I vote we don't talk any more at all, but eat -our supper and go to bed. Here, sit down by me, and let us gorge. I -have had nothing since morning, and this table excites me to frenzy." - -We cut off the breast of the chicken for the children and a leg for -Maria, and demolished the rest. We drank the beer between us, out of one -tumbler; we devoured half of a crusty loaf, and cheese sufficient for a -dozen nightmares; and I never felt so well in my life as I did after it. -Tom said the same. - -But sleep was far away--even from him. We had to arrange our programme -for the morning--the fetching of Nurse Barber to take care of baby, the -business at the bank, the settlings of pressing accounts, the beginnings -of our innumerable shoppings; and whenever a silence fell that I knew I -should not break, something forced me to turn over in bed with a violent -fling and make loud ejaculations. - -"Oh, dear, kind, sweet Aunt Kate! To think that I am so pleased at -having her money that I cannot cry because she is dead! Oh, Tom, Tom! To -think that we never need owe a penny again--never, never, as long as we -live!" - -This was merely the effect of shock. We sobered down next day. And it -was wonderful how soon we grew accustomed to having an independent -income, and to feeling that it would not go half as far as it should. -Long and long had we spent the hundred pounds before the first -instalment of the annuity was paid over; we thought it was never coming, -and when it came it melted like snow in sunshine. One has no idea what -it costs to furnish even a small house comfortably until one begins to -do it, and a few doctor's bills play havoc with all one's calculations. -And my husband could not stay at home with me--rather, he would not. I -am sure there were dozens of situations that he might have had for the -asking--a man so universally beloved and respected--but he would not -ask. He was fit for the sea, he said, but would be a useless lubber -ashore--a fish out of water, a stranded hulk, and things of that sort. -The fact was he _preferred_ the sea--in which he differed from most -sailors--and hated streets and clubs and landsmen's pursuits. He said he -should choke if he were shut up in them, and I said, with tears, that he -cared more for the sea than he did for his wife and children. Of course -he declared it was not so, and his feelings were hurt; but he admitted -the strong affection. I was his mate as he described it, his nearest and -dearest--I and the children; but the sea was his comrade, to whom he had -grown accustomed--his foster mother, who had nursed him so long that she -had made him feel like a part of her. A foster mother is not much of a -rival to a wife so loved as I am, but, oh, how jealous of her I was! - -However, I don't believe that his affection for the sea had anything to -do with it. I doubt very much whether that affection was as genuine as -it appeared. My conviction is that he was in terror of the possible -indignity of having to live upon my money. Such utter nonsense!--when -wife and husband are absolutely one, as we were. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE BROKEN CIRCLE. - -I had my heart's desire at last--with the usual calamitous result. Of -course it came when I least expected it, and in the paltriest kind of -way--merely because a workman, whom I had engaged to put a new stove -into the children's play-room, chose to leave his job unfinished until -over Sunday, instead of clearing it off on Saturday morning, as he -easily might have done. There was no school on Saturday, and it was a -wet, cold day, when even the boys had to be kept indoors; so there was -nothing for it but to turn them and Phyllis into the dining-room--my -nice dining-room, which had lately had a new carpet--while I took the -drawing-room for myself and Lily, to keep her out of harm's way. She was -not very well--nor was I; and I confess that I was in a cross mood. I -had all my four children with me then, safe under my wing, and did not -know how well off I was! - -During the morning they were fairly good, preparing their lessons most -of the time; but after dinner they were at a loss for amusement, tired -of the house, restless and mischievous--very wearing to a mother whose -nerves were out of tune. Even Lily became fractious. I gave her a doll -and some picture-books and my work-basket to play with, but she fiddled -with them, and fidgeted, and would not settle to anything. She kept -listening to the noises from the dining-room--the boys paid no heed to -my repeated calls to them to be quiet--and uttering monotonous whinings -to be allowed to go there. - -"Mother, do let me go and play with the others." - -"No, Lily; little girls must not romp about with rough boys." - -"Phyllis is a little girl, and she's romping with them." - -"Phyllis hasn't a bad cold, as you have." - -"My cold is quite better now, mother." - -"No, it isn't. It is only a little better. And we mustn't let it get -worse again by running into draughts." - -"There are no draughts in the dining-room, mother. It's all shut up. I -can put the flannel round my neck, mother." - -Oh, I could have smacked her! But of course I didn't, poor little ailing -mite--barely three years old; besides, my attention was constantly -distracted by the boys, who, when not rushing into and out of the hall, -yelling and slamming doors as if they wanted to bring the house down, -were scuffling and thumping within the dining-room in a way to make me -tremble for my good furniture. I went to them once or twice to read the -riot act, and each time they left off what they were doing the moment -they heard me, sat mumchance while I scolded them, almost laughing in my -face, and went on worse than ever directly my back was turned. Boys will -be boys, Tom used to tell me, in his easy-going way, but I don't believe -in letting boys defy their mother with impunity. And when presently I -heard the yapping of a dog in addition to their own shouts and cries, I -was at the end of my patience with them, determined to assert myself -effectually once for all. - -Rushing into the dining-room, before they had time to hear me coming, -this is what I saw. The window open--cakes of mud all over the new -carpet--Bobby's dog, streaming with rain, on the nice tablecloth, -barking at Phyllis's cat planted on a silk sofa cushion, which she was -tearing and ravelling in her frantic claws--the children standing round, -Phyllis holding her cat, Bobby his dog, and Harry inciting the impotent -animals to fly at one another, all three consumed with laughter, as if -it were the greatest fun in the world. - -The first thing I did was to dash at Waif, knocking him out of Bobby's -hands and off the table--and I shall never forgive myself for that as -long as I live. It was a shabby mongrel terrier which Bobby had picked -up in the street one day on his way from school, and been allowed to -cure of starvation and a lame leg and keep for his own particular pet; -and the mutual devotion of the pair was a joke of the family. Waif was -now fat and strong, though as ugly as before, but when he scrambled up -from the fall I had given him he limped a little on the leg that had -been broken; and Bobby snatched him into his arms again, and turned upon -me with blazing eyes--Bobby, who had never given me impudence in the -whole course of his life. - -"Hit me, mother," said he, "if you like, but don't hit him--for nothing -at all." - -"You call that nothing?" I cried, and pointed to the pretty terra-cotta -cloth--one mass of smears and muddy footmarks. Ah, my precious boy! What -would a thousand terra-cotta tablecloths matter now? - -He seemed quite surprised to discover that a dog brought in from the -rain and a garden that was a perfect swamp could be wet and dirty, and -stared open-mouthed at the damage done. I marched him to the window and -made him drop Waif out, tossed the scratching kitten after him, shut -down the sash and locked it, and then turned to Harry. For Harry was -the eldest, the ringleader, the one who ought to have known better and -who set the example for the rest. - -"You do this on purpose to vex me," I cried vehemently, "and because you -know I am ill to-day, and that father is away!" I did not quite mean -that, but one cannot help saying rather more than one means in such -moments of acute exasperation. - -"Do what?" returned Harry, looking as surprised as Bobby had done. "I'm -not doing anything. And you never told us you were ill." - -"I have a raging headache," I said--and so I had as the result of the -long day's worry. "And I have been telling you the whole afternoon to be -quiet, and the more I tell you, the more you disobey me. Look at that -beautiful new carpet--ruined for ever! Look at that lovely -cushion--simply scratched to pieces! And a great, big boy like you, who -ought to be a comfort to his mother----" - -But there is no need to repeat all I said to him; indeed, I cannot -remember it; but my blood was up, and I know I scolded him severely. And -he answered me back, as he alone of all the children dared to do, which -of course made things worse; for if there is one thing I cannot stand it -is impertinence. He was just telling me that, if I chose to regard him -as a ruffian and a cad, he could not help it, when we heard a distant -door open--the way a door opens to the hand of the master of the house. - -"There!" I exclaimed passionately. "There's your father! We'll see what -_he_ says to the way you treat me when his back is turned." - -Tom came in, with that bright look he always wears when he sees us after -an absence. How could I have had the heart to extinguish it, and to make -his children quake at sight of his dear face, instead of flying to -welcome him, as was the rule on his return! But a mother's authority -_must_ be upheld. I said so to Tom, and he said I was perfectly right, -and that it was his business to see it done. He bade me explain what -was the matter, and I did so, softening things a little--more and more -as I went on--since, after all, it was nothing so very dreadful. Perhaps -I had been a little hasty and hard; I thought so when I saw how Tom was -taking it. He had that inexorable look of the commander confronted with -mutiny--as if really I were accusing the poor boys of murder at the -least. And when I saw how they stood before him--Bob downcast and -tearful, and Harry with his head up, teeth and hands clenched, too proud -to quail--oh, I would have given anything to save them! But it was too -late. - -"I am sure they didn't mean it," I protested, laying my hand on Harry's -shoulder, which felt as rigid as iron under it. "We can overlook it this -time, father, dear." - -"The one thing I will never overlook," he replied, "is misconduct -towards you when I leave you unprotected. If they don't know the first -rudiments of manliness--at their age--I must try to teach them." - -"But _that_ is not the way to teach them!" I cried--almost shrieked--as -he signed to them to pass out of the room before him. "Oh, Tom, don't! -don't! It is all my fault!" - -Harry turned and looked at me with an ice-cold smile, as if his face -were galvanised, and said calmly, "It is all right, mother. It is -_quite_ right." And then the three of them left me, Tom himself sternly -keeping me back when I tried to follow; and presently, with my head -buried in the torn pillow and my hands over my ears, I heard an agonised -wail from poor little Bob. Not from Harry, of course; he would be cut to -pieces before he would deign to cry out. Oh, what _brutes_ men are! I -hated Tom--though he was Tom--with a hatred that was perfectly murderous -while it lasted. - -We had our tea together alone--a thing that had never happened before, -on his first evening, since we had had a child old enough to sit up at -table. I had sent the little girls to bed--Phyllis for punishment, Lily -for her throat, and because I felt I could not stand her chatter--and -he had sent the boys. There were the usual first-night -delicacies--sweetbreads, wild ducks, honey in the combs--and for once -they were uneaten and unnoticed. All my preparations for his home-coming -were thrown away. He was glum and silent, evidently as upset as I was, -with no appetite for anything. As for me, I felt as if a crumb of bread -would choke me. And I would not speak to him--I could not--with that -shriek of Bobby's in my ears. - -"I suppose," he said, in a heavy voice--"I suppose I'd better resign my -billet and come home, Polly. They're getting pretty old now for you to -struggle with them single-handed. It's not fair to you, my dear." - -I treated this remark as if I had not heard it, and he soon rose from -his seat and left the room. He went into his little smoking den, shut -the door behind him, and locked it. - -When I thought him safely out of the way I stole off to see and comfort -my poor boys. They shared the same room, their beds standing side by -side, with a chair between them. When I crept in they were talking in a -low voice together; as soon as they heard me they fell silent and -pretended to be asleep. A smell of moist dog and an otherwise -unaccountable protuberance implied the presence of a third culprit--and -a flat contravention of one of the strict rules of the house--but I took -no notice, although terrified lest Bobby's shirt and sheets should be -dampened, and sickened by the thought of the fleas that would infest -him. Oh, how thankful I am now that I took no notice, and did not snatch -his bit of comfort from his arms! - -I sat down on the chair and leaned over Harry, smoothed his hair from -his brow, and kissed him. I might as well have kissed the bed-post. He -is a peculiar boy--a little hard-natured and perverse--and he can never -bear anybody to pity him. I was not surprised that he repulsed me, -though I felt dreadfully hurt. My beloved Bobby--my angel, whom I never -rightly appreciated until I had lost him--he was quite different. He -kissed me back again, and whimpered when I talked to him, and told me -he had never meant to be as naughty as father thought. Bless him! I knew -he never did. I told him so. But even then he was just a little reserved -with me, as if he could not quite forgive me for what I had brought upon -him--which was bitter enough at the time, but an agony to think of -afterwards, as it is to this day. So I went away to my room and cried in -the dark, utterly miserable. And I thought to myself, "If this is how -they feel towards me, how will they regard their father, who has treated -them so brutally? Why, they will never have an atom of affection for him -again!" - -But when I went back to them, hoping for a warmer welcome, and anxious -about their poor empty stomachs, there was Tom, sitting on the chair -between their beds, chatting to them, and they to him, as if nothing had -occurred--aye, although Waif had been deposed and banished. Another -chair had been dragged up, and a tray stood on it--a tray piled with -food, duck and sweetbread, cold beef and tongue, all mixed -together--which he was serving out in lavish helpings, with plenty of -bread-and-butter. Harry, leaning on his elbow, rested his head on his -father's arm; Bob, crouched at his knees on the floor, looked up at him -with his dear merry eyes, that bore no malice--not even a reproach. They -did not see me at the door, where I stood a minute to watch them, -suffocated by the sense of being shut out. - -I did not think it was quite right of Tom. But I did not say so. When he -called to me to come in and be apologised to--the boys did it -handsomely, but still rather perfunctorily, I fancied--I was glad to let -bygones be bygones, and to feel we were a united family once more. - -And I thought the incident ended there. Nothing more was said about it -while Tom remained at home, and he went away as usual, giving me--even -me--not the faintest indication of what was in his mind. So that I was -completely dumfoundered when, on his next return, he said, in a -tremulous tone of voice and with quite a tragic air generally: - -"Well, Polly, I've done it." - -"_What?_" I cried, guessing his meaning in an instant, for I remembered -his remark at tea that night when we were all so unhappy. "You _don't_ -mean to say you have thrown up your command--thrown away -everything--just _now_, when we want so badly to increase our income and -not to lessen it--without a word of warning?" - -"No warning?" quoth he. "Why, haven't you been at me every day for the -last dozen years to do it? And quite right too. It's bad for boys to -grow up without a father to look after them, and their welfare is of -more importance than anything else." - -"You say that, and at the same time take away all chance of their having -a decent education and a fair start in the world! How am I to keep them -at the Grammar School, and have a governess for the girls, and support -the house and all, on my poor three hundred a year?" - -I should not have said it, and could have cut my tongue out before the -words were half uttered, but somehow the first news of the shock that we -were to lose half our income, on which we already found it no easy -matter to make ends meet, was overwhelming. And we were so accustomed to -speak freely whatever was in our minds that I never anticipated he would -take a chance remark so ill. I suppose his interview with the owners had -agitated him; as I heard afterwards, the whole office had expressed -regrets at his leaving the service, and said all kinds of nice and -flattering things about him; otherwise I am sure he would not have given -way as he did. He just turned from me, put his arms on the mantelpiece, -and, dropping his head down, gave a sob under his breath. My own good -husband! That ever I should have been the cause--however innocently--of -bringing a tear to his dear eyes, a moment's pang to his faithful heart! - -Of course he forgave me at once--he always does; and in a few minutes we -were talking things over in peace and comfort, while I sat on his -knee--for the children were in school, happily. - -"As for income, Polly, you don't suppose I am going to live on you?" he -said--and a very unkind thing it was to say, as I told him. "You don't -imagine I intend to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs, while you take -the whole burden on your little shoulders--do you?" - -"I don't see why you shouldn't," I replied. "At any rate for a long -while to come. I'm sure if any one ever earned the right to a thorough -rest, you have. And, oh, Tom, no burden can be a burden with you here to -help me!" - -"Thanks, old girl. That's good hearing." - -"As if you wanted to be told that! And by and by, when you have had a -nice long spell, there are sure to be posts offered to you about the -ports----" - -"No, Polly; don't delude yourself with that idea. There are no posts for -a sailor who leaves sea--that is, one or two, perhaps, and a hundred -fellows wanting them. I should be no good at office work, among the -smart hands, and the life would kill me. No, I've a better notion than -that--it's been in my mind a long time, and I've been talking it over -with experts, men who thoroughly understand the matter----" - -"And not with me!" I interposed reproachfully. - -"Well, I didn't see the use of disturbing your mind until one could do -something. But now the time has come." He was quite bright and excited. -"Look here, Polly--listen, dear, till I have explained fully--my idea is -to take a little farm place on the outskirts of Melbourne----" - -"A farm!" I broke in. "Are _you_ one of those who think that farming -comes by instinct and doesn't have to be learned like other trades?" - -"I don't mean that kind of farm, but just a few acres of good land--more -on the edge of the country than in it, you understand--near enough for -the boys to get to the Grammar School by train or on ponies--and breed -pigs----" - -"Oh, pigs!" I echoed, sniffing. - -"Well, if you objected to pigs, there's poultry. With a few incubators -we could rear fowls enough to supply all Melbourne. Or bees. There's a -great trade to be done in honey if you know how to set about it. Bees -feed themselves, and flowers cost nothing--I particularly want us to -live among plenty of flowers--and I could make the boxes myself. But -pigs are the thing, Polly. I've gone into the question thoroughly, and -there's no doubt about it. You see, we should be able to keep -cows--think how splendid to give the children fresh milk from our own -dairy, as much as they can drink!--and we could send the rest to a -factory and get the buttermilk back for the pigs. And vegetables--of -course we'd have a big garden--and they'd eat all the surplus that would -otherwise go to waste, and the fallen fruit, and the refuse from the -kitchen; so that really the cost of feed would be next to nothing. The -pork would be first-class on such a diet, given the right breed to -begin with, and what Melbourne markets couldn't absorb we might ship -frozen to England." - -And so on. - -Well, it was a fascinating picture, and his enthusiasm was contagious. -I, too, thought it would be lovely to live amongst cows and flowers, and -at the same time be making a fortune out of our Arcadian surroundings. -So I went in for the little farm, and all the three classes of -profitable stock--pigs, fowls, bees--in short, everything. What would -have happened to us if Tom had not made a few unexpected thousands by -the purest accident, I don't know. He did a little deal in mining -shares, under the direction of a strangely disinterested friend who was -expert at that business, and so saved us all from ruin. I may add that -it was his sole exploit of the kind. I would not let him gamble any -more--beyond putting an annual pound or two in Tattersall's -Sweeps--because, although he thought he had been very smart, he was as -ignorant as a confiding infant of the ways of money dealers, and never -could have experienced such another stroke of luck. He was easily -persuaded to let well alone, as always to defer to and see the -reasonableness of any wish of mine. - -It was before we had fairly plunged into our messes and muddles--in the -very beginning, when the _couleur de rose_ was over all--when the -dilapidations of our country cottage were all repaired, and everything -in the most beautiful order--when the fields were rich with spring grass -and the scent of wattle-blossom, and the sleek cows had calved, and the -hens were clucking about with thriving families of chicks--when the bee -boxes were still a-making, and the two first pigs only in their smart -new sty--when the children, released from the schoolroom, were -scampering everywhere with their father, who was more of a child than -any of them, and growing fat and rosy on the sweet air and the pure -milk--when we were telling one another all day that we never were so -happy and so well off--it was then that the calamity of our lives -befell us. - -A small creek touched the borders of the two paddocks that we called our -farm, and, like all creeks, was fringed with wild vegetation, bushes and -trees that interposed a romantic screen between its little bed and the -world of prosaic agriculture. It so happened that the children--like -many thousands of native Australians, far older than they--had never -seen the bush. When they had wanted change of air Tom had taken them to -sea; and as he had never had holidays himself, and I had never cared to -go away from home without him, we were nearly in the same case. That -strip of scrub was true bush, as far as it went, and we were delighted -in it. - -We were too busy just then to go thither in daytime, and would not allow -the children to ramble there alone, for fear of snakes--although it was -much too early and too cool for them; besides which, there were -none--but we would take the fascinating walk about sundown in a family -party, and sometimes have our tea there, returning after dark with -strange treasures of leaf and insect, clear pebbles that we made sure -were topazes in the rough, and stones with mica specks in them that we -thought were gold. And once we went there in moonlight--the full moon of -our first October--when it was mild and balmy, and we could easily -imagine ourselves in forests primeval untrodden by a human foot except -our own! How well I remember it--as if it were yesterday!--the enormous -look of the trees in that beautiful, deceptive light, and how we stood -in an ecstatic group under one of them to look up at an oppossum sitting -in the fork of a dead branch. - -Many people think that oppossums, like snakes and laughing jackasses, -are common objects of the country in all its parts; but that is not the -case nowadays with any of the three, and none of our family had beheld -the dear little furry animal, except dead in a museum or torpid in the -Zoölogical Gardens, while it had been one of the great ambitions of our -lives to do so. And here he was, alive, alert, and unmistakable, his -ears sticking up and his bushy tail hanging down, sitting against the -moon, as I had seen roosting pheasants in the woods at home, looking -down at us with the intense interest that an oppossum is able to take in -things at that hour. The excitement was tremendous. The boys literally -danced round and round the tree, and Waif was beside himself; he made -frantic leaps upward, turning somersaults in the rebound, wildly tore at -the bark of the tree and the earth at its roots, and filled the quiet -night with his impassioned yaps and squeaks. He also, to the best of our -belief, had never seen an oppossum before; yet he was as keen as a -foxhound after a fox to get at and destroy it. - -The little animal did not seem to mind. It sat still and gazed at us, as -is the way of an oppossum, even when you have no camp-fire or lantern to -mesmerise and paralyse it; we could almost fancy that we saw its fixed -eyes, large and liquid, in the light of the moon. And suddenly Bobby -ejaculated, from the depths of his heart, "Oh--_oh_--if _only_ I'd got -my gun!" - -We took no notice--never heeded the warning given us--but only laughed -to hear the little chap talking of his gun as if he were an old -sportsman. It was a small single barrel, presented to him on his going -to the country by his godfather, Captain Briggs (much to my dismay at -the time, and the natural chagrin of the elder brother, who should have -been the first to possess one), and Tom had given the child but two -lessons in the use of it--shooting bottles from the top of the paddock -fence. - -Being without a gun, the boys flung aloft such missiles as came to hand, -and, when a stick of wood touched the branch it sat on, the 'possum ran -along it to a place where it was lost in leaves. Then we bethought -ourselves of the late hour, called off Waif, and went home to bed--to -bed, and to sleep as tranquil and unforeboding as the sleep of other -nights. - -The next day was exceptionally full of business. Recreation was not -thought of. It was nine o'clock when we left off work--Tom and I. - -Lily was long in bed, but the other children had no proper hour for -retiring at this unsettled time. I went to the sitting-room to look for -them, and found only Phyllis there. The lamp was not lit, nor the blinds -drawn. I noticed that the moon was up, and by its light saw her crouched -at one of the windows, pressing her face against the glass. I asked her -what she was doing there, and she did not hear me; on my repeating the -question, she sprang up with such a start of fright that I at once -divined mischief somewhere. - -"Where is Harry?" I cried sharply. Somehow it was always Harry, my -handsome first-born, that I expected things to happen to. - -Phyllis stammered and shuffled, and then said that Harry had gone to -look for Bobby. - -"And where is Bobby?" - -She seemed still more reluctant to reply, but suddenly exclaimed, with -an air of joyful relief, "Oh, there he is! There he is! There's Waif--he -can't be far off!" - -She followed me to the verandah, whither I went to meet and reproach my -poor little fellow for having strayed without leave, and there was no -boy visible--only the dear, ugly, faithful dog for whose sake all dogs -are beloved and sacred for ever and ever. Waif ran to my feet, pawed -them and my skirts, squirmed and jumped, yelped and whined, all the time -looking up at me with eyes that were full of desire and -supplication--trying to tell me something that at first I could not -understand. I took a few steps into the garden, and he scampered down a -pathway to the gate; seeing I did not follow so far, he ran back, seized -a bit of my frock in his teeth, and tried to drag me with him. - -"What does he want?" I called to Tom, as he sauntered towards me, pipe -in mouth. "Tom, Tom, _what_ does it mean?" - -"Where's Bob?" was his instant question. - -"Harry has gone after him--Harry is with him--Harry will bring him -home," piped Phyllis, trembling like a leaf. Then she burst into tears. -"Oh, mother--oh, father--I heard the gun such a long, long time ago!" - -The gun! Who would have dreamed of _that?_--locked up in a wardrobe, as -we supposed, and forbidden to be so much as looked at except under -parental supervision. At the word our hearts jumped, and seemed to stop -beating. - -"He wanted to shoot the oppossum and cure the skin for a present to you -on your birthday, mother. And he wanted it to be a secret--for a -surprise to you." - -Waif whined and ran, and we ran after him--Tom in silence, I wailing -under my breath, already in despair and heart broken. I can see the -devoted creature now, pattering steadily over the moonlit paddocks -towards the creek and the trees, stopping every now and then to make -sure that we were coming; and see him tracking through the scrub with -his nose to the ground, and hear his little uneasy whimper when for a -moment he could not perceive us. - -Once we stopped at the sound of a distant whistle, and I shrieked with -joy. - -"No," said Tom gently. "That's Harry calling him." - -And we came to the place where we had seen the oppossum the night -before. The moonbeams trickled through the branches from which it had -looked down upon our happy, united family, and just where we had stood -together there was a dark something on the ground. Waif ran up to it and -licked it---- - - * * * * * - -I can't write any more. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING. - - -It was years, literally, before I got over it. Indeed, I have never got -over it--never shall, while I have any power to remember things. -Death--we all know, more or less, what it means to the living whom it -has robbed. To lose a child--the mothers know, at any rate! It is no use -talking about it. Besides, there are no words to talk with that can -possibly explain. - -I often hear the remark that my husband has the most patient temper in -the world, and I realise its truth when I think of that dreadful -time--how I must have wearied and discouraged him, and how he never once -reproached me for it, even by a glum look. He knew I could not help it. -For one thing, I was ill--physically ill, with the doctor coming to see -me. He ordered me tonics, stimulants, a complete change of scene, and so -on, but no doctor's prescriptions were any good for my complaint. -Winding a watch with a broken mainspring won't make it go. Tonics gave -me headaches--tonics accompanied by constant tears and -sleeplessness--and, hideous as the house was, with an empty place -staring at me from every point to which I could turn my eyes, I knew it -would be worse elsewhere. I clung to my own bed, my own privacy, my home -where I could do as I liked and shut out the foolish would-be -sympathisers and their futile condolences; and I could not bear to leave -the other children. Once you have lost a child, you never again feel any -confidence that the rest are safe; you seem to _know_ they are going to -die if they but catch a cold or scratch a finger, and that they will -have no chance at all if you let them out of your sight. Besides, there -were things to see to--the poultry, for instance, which was under my -charge--if only I could have seen to them! I tried, but sorrow made me -stupid; and when the incubator was found stone-cold, and again -overheated, and on one occasion burnt to ashes with dozens of poor -chicks inside, and when dozens more were drowned in a storm for want of -timely shelter--all fine, thriving birds, when, you couldn't get a -decent turkey in Melbourne for under a pound--I suppose it was my fault. -But Tom always said, "Never mind--don't you worry yourself, Polly," and -his first thought was to get me a glass of wine. He was like an old -nurse in the way he cosseted and coddled me. When I was more ill than -usual, he thought nothing of sitting up all night by my bedside, and -making little messes for me in the kitchen with his own hands. He never -even said, as I have heard men say at the first starting of tears--not -after they have been flowing, like mine, for weeks and weeks--"Why don't -you make an effort to control yourself? You know perfectly well that -crying only makes you worse and does nobody any good"--as if a poor -mother cried from choice and perversity and the pleasure of doing it, -when her heart was broken! He knew my heart was broken. He understood. -No one else understood. They all thought I could control myself if I -liked. Some of them said so, and told one another, I am sure, though I -did not hear them, that it was the calm and composed ones who felt the -most. That is the theory of books and cold-hearted people; I don't -believe in it for a moment. Whenever I see a woman bearing up, as they -call it, without showing ravages in some way or other, I know what -supports her--not more courage, but a harder nature than mine. A man is -different. Tom mourned for our little son with all his heart, though he -did not show it; and he did not show it because he is so unselfish. He -thought of me before himself, and would not add a straw to my burden. -Never was a tenderer husband in this world! I believe those women -thought him foolish and weak-minded to indulge me as he did, but that -was envy, naturally; they did not know, poor things, what it was to have -such a staff to lean on. - -However, one day, when I was showing him how thin I had grown, taking up -handfuls of "slack" in a bodice that had been once tight for me, he -began to look--not impatient or aggrieved, but determined--as he used to -look on board ship when the law was in his own hands. - -"Polly," he said, "this has gone on long enough. I'm not going to stand -by and see you die by inches before my eyes. Something must be done. I -shall take you to sea." - -"To sea!" I exclaimed. "We can't leave the children. We can't leave the -farm. We can't afford----" - -"I don't care," he broke in. "I'm not going to lose you, if I can help -it, for anybody or anything. You're just ready to fall into a rapid -decline, or to catch some fatal epidemic or other, and I can't have it, -Polly; it must be put a stop to before it is too late. The sea's the -thing. The sea's what you want. Come to that, it's what I want myself; -I've got quite flabby from being away from it so long. It would brace us -up, both of us, and nothing else will. You pack a few clothes, pet, and -I'll go into Melbourne and look up a nice boat. Don't you bother your -head about the farm or the children or anything--I'll see that they're -left all safe." - -He was so firm about it that I had to give in. The sea, of course, was -not like any other change of air and change of scene--it did seem to -promise refreshment and renovation, peace even greater than that of my -home, where I still suffered from the mistaken kindness of neighbours -coming to expostulate with and to cheer me. Besides, when Tom said he -had got flabby for want of it, I noticed that he was not looking well. -There could be no doubt about the proposed trip being beneficial to -him--I must have urged him to take it for his own health's sake--and I -could not be left without him. So I mustered a little energy to begin -preparations while he went to town; for though I had begged for time to -think the matter over, he would not hear of delay. I never knew him so -resolute, even with a crew. - -At night he brought back a brighter face than had been seen in our house -for many a long day. I was sitting up for him, and even I had stirrings -in my heavy heart of a reviving interest in life. All day I had been -thinking of our old voyage in the Racer--remembering the beautiful parts -of it, forgetting all the rest. - -"Well, Polly," said he; "did you wonder what was keeping me so late? The -old man"--he meant the head of his old firm--"insisted on my dining with -him, and I couldn't well refuse. Talked about everything as frank and -free as if I'd been his brother--all the business of the old shop--and -said they'd give a hundred pounds to have me back again. By Jove, if it -wasn't for you and the children--no, no, I don't mean that; we're -happiest as we are--or will be when you are well and heartened up a bit. -What do you think, Polly? I'm to take the old Bendigo her next trip. -Watson hasn't had a spell for years, and there's a new baby at his -place; I saw Watson first--he put me up to it--but the old man was -ready to do anything I liked to ask him. 'Certainly,' says he; 'by all -means, and whenever you choose. And bring the missus, of course--only -too proud to have her company on any ship she fancies.' You know he -always thought a deal of you, Polly; I declare he was quite affectionate -in his inquiries after you--never thought he could be so kind and jolly. -I could have got free passages for both of us easy enough, but it's -pleasanter to work for them; and I don't think, somehow, that I could -feel at home in the old Bendigo anywhere but on the bridge." - -"And I should not like to see you anywhere else," I said; "not if we -paid full fares twice over. And how nice not to have to pay, when the -farm is keeping us so short! How nice an arrangement altogether! I can -be upstairs with you--the old man would wish me to do whatever I -liked--and have more liberty than would be possible if another was in -command, and so can you. It's a charming plan! And the Bendigo, -too--our own old Bendigo! Oh, Tom, do you remember _that night!_" - -It was some years since he had left the boat on board of which he had -been introduced to his eldest son; but whenever we recalled the time -that he was captain of her our first thoughts pictured the moonlit -bridge and the baby; at any rate mine did. And in my terribly deepened -sense of the significance of motherhood nothing could have suited me -better than to go back to the dear place where my mother-life began, for -it did not properly begin until Tom shared it with me. I would sooner -have chosen the Bendigo to have a trip in--if I had the choice--than the -finest yacht or liner going. - -So we went to bed almost happy. And two days later, having been quite -brisk in the interval, safeguarding our home and children as completely -as it could be done, we walked down the familiar wharf, amongst the -bales and cases, to where the steamer lay, feeling exhilarated by the -thought of our coming holiday, as if old times were back again. It was -on the verge of winter now and an exquisite afternoon. Even the filthy -Yarra looked silky and shimmering in the mild sunlight, tinted rose and -mauve by the city smoke; and the vile smells were kept down by the clean -sharpness of the air, so that I did not notice them. We were to sail at -five, but went on board early so that Tom could gather the reins into -his hand and have all shipshape before passengers arrived. - -How pleasant it was to see the way they welcomed him! Mr. Jones was -first officer now (and had babies of his own), and some of the old faces -were amongst the crew. The head steward was the same, and the head -engineer, and the black cook who made pastry so well; and they all -smiled from ear to ear at the sight of their old master, making it quite -evident to me that they had found poor Watson, as they would have found -any one else, an indifferent substitute for him. Above all, there was -the "old man," as he was irreverently styled--the important chief -owner--in person, down on purpose to receive me, with a bouquet for me -in his hand. Dear, kind old man! He was something like Captain Saunders -in his extreme admiration and respect for "pretty Mrs. Braye," as I was -told they called me, and nothing could have been friendlier than his few -words of sympathy for my trouble and his real anxiety to make me -comfortable on board. One might have imagined I was an owner myself by -the fuss they all made over me. It always gratified me--on Tom's -account--that I was never put on a level with the other captains' wives. - -I had the deck cabin again, and we went there for afternoon tea. The -steward brought cakes and tarts and all sorts of unusual things, to do -honour to the special occasion; and I put my flowers in water, wearing a -few of them, and it was all very nice and cheerful. I felt better -already, although we had not stirred from the wharf, and although a New -Zealand boat close by us was turning in the stream, stirring up the dead -cats and things with her propeller, and making a stench so powerful that -it was like pepper to the nose. - -Then, as five o'clock drew near, the "old man" went to look after -business about the ship, and Tom to put on his uniform. How splendid he -looked in it! Almost the only regret I had for his leaving the sea was -that he could no longer wear the clothes which so well became him. Talk -about the fascination of a red coat! I never could see anything in it. -But a sailor in his peaked cap and brass buttons is the finest figure in -the world. - -I was just going to meet him and tell him how nice he looked, when one -of the lady passengers who had been coming on board, and whom I had been -manoeuvring to avoid, cut across my bows, so to speak, and rushed at him -like a whirlwind. I really thought the woman was going to throw her arms -round his neck. - -"Oh, Captain Braye!" she exclaimed loudly, "how too, too charming to see -you here again. Have you come back to the Bendigo for good? Oh, how I -hope you have! Do you know, I was going to Sydney by the mail, and was -actually on my way to the P.&O. office, when somebody told me you were -taking Captain Watson's place. I said at once, 'Then no mail steamers -for me, thank you. No other captain for me if I can get Captain Braye.' -And so here I am. I managed to get packed up in a day and a half." - -I could see that Tom looked quite confused. We had both hoped so much -that the people would all be strangers who would leave us alone, and he -guessed the annoyance I should feel at the threatened curtailment of our -independence by this forward person. But there was no need for him to -inveigle her out of earshot, and there stand and talk to her for ever so -long, as if there were secrets between them not for me to overhear. I -know what she wanted--I heard her ask for it--whether she could have the -deck cabin as before! A very few seconds should have sufficed to answer -_that_ question. She was a stylish person in her way, and her clothes -were good, and the servants paid court to her; I asked one of them who -she was, and he said the "lady" of a merchant of some standing in -Melbourne--just the class of passenger we were most anxious to be -without. When their confabulation was at an end Tom brought her to the -bench where I was sitting and introduced her to me. - -"My wife, Mrs. Harris--Mrs. Harris, dear--who has sailed with me -before." - -"Often," said Mrs. Harris, extending a bejewelled hand. "We are very old -friends, the captain and I." - -"Indeed?" I said, bowing. He had never mentioned her name to me. But, as -he explained when I told him so, he couldn't be expected to remember the -names of the thousands of strangers he carried in the course of the -year. I reminded him that she considered herself not a stranger, but a -friend; and he said, with a laugh, "Oh, they all do that." - -I confess I did not take to Mrs. Harris. I should not have liked any one -coming in our way as she did, when we wanted to be free and peaceful, -but she was particularly repugnant to me. She gushed too much; she -talked too familiarly of Tom--to me also, not discriminating between -one captain's wife and another; and she accosted the servants and -officers as they passed quite as if the ship belonged to her. However, I -stood it as long as she chose to sit there, making herself pleasant, as -she doubtless supposed. As soon as it occurred to her to go and look at -her cabin I seized my hood and cloak, and went to seek sanctuary on the -bridge with Tom. It was nearly six o'clock, and he was just casting off. - -"Oh, Polly," he said, turning to me with a slightly worried air, "you -wouldn't mind staying on deck till we get down the river a bit, would -you, pet? It don't look professional, you know, for ladies to show up -here. And Mrs. Harris might----" - -I interrupted him in what he was going to say, because anything to do -with Mrs. Harris had nothing whatever to do with the case. - -"Passengers," said I, "are one thing--the captain's wife is -another--_quite_ another--and especially when the old man has asked me, -as a sort of favour to himself, to make myself at home, as he calls it. -Is he on the wharf, by the way? I should like to wave a hand to him. It -would please him awfully. Thank Heaven, we are not subject to Mrs. -Harris, nor to anybody else, on board this, ship. That's the beauty of -it." - -"I feel in a sense subject to Watson," said Tom, "and he's a punctilious -sort of chap. I don't care to seem to make too free with his -command--for it's his, not mine. And there are heaps of people about -besides the old man. You really would oblige me very much, Polly----" - -"Oh, of course, dear!" - -I saw his point of view, and at once effaced myself. I went into the -little bridge house, just behind the wheel--he was satisfied with -that--where I could see him close to me through the bow window, and -speak to him when I chose. He lit the candle lamp at the head of the -bunk, so that I could lie there and read; but I did not want to read. I -preferred to stand by the window, which held all there was of table--the -top of drawers and lockers--on which I spread my arms, propping my face -in hollowed palms, and to look out upon the river with the sunset upon -it, and the fading daylight, and the starry lights ashore. To call that -city-skirting stream romantic is to provoke the derision of those who -know it best, but it _was_ romantic that night--to me. Anything can be -romantic under certain circumstances, in certain states of atmosphere -and mind. - -We were alone together. The dinner-bell rang downstairs, but Tom never -left the bridge till he was out of the river, and I did not need to ask -him to let me share his meal. The steward brought us up a tray, and we -stood in the warm little cabin--the table was not made to sit at--and -ate roast chicken and apple pie, like travellers at a railway buffet, -Tom stepping out and back between hasty mouthfuls to see that all was -right. He was intensely business-like, and as happy as a boy at his old -work. We both had the young feeling that comes to holiday-makers who -don't have a holiday very often. I could not help it. - -Then--when we steamed out between the river lights into the bay--how we -sniffed the first breath of the salt sea! And what memories it brought -to us!--to me, at least, who had been so long away from it. The -passengers were at dinner still, and it was falling dark, and there were -no spectators save the man at the wheel, who was nothing but a voice, an -echo of the quiet word of command, most pleasant to hear; I was free to -roam the bridge from end to end, hanging to my husband's supporting -arm--to bathe myself in air that was literally new life to both of us. -Cold and clean and briny to the lips--oh, what is there to equal it in -the way of medicine for soul and body? What sort of insensate creatures -can they be who do not love the sea? - -Hobson's Bay was ruffled with a south wind--belted round with twinkling -lights that grew thicker and brighter every moment, a gleaming ring of -stars set in the otherwise invisible shores, in a dusk as soft as -velvet. Somewhere amongst them, doubtless, was the lighted window that -had once been mine, where I used to stand half a dozen lamps and candles -in a bunch, to show Tom that I was watching for him when he used to pass -out after nightfall. Our eyes turned in that direction simultaneously. - -"When we are old folks, Polly," said he, with an arm round my shoulder, -"when the kids are all grown up and out in the world, and you and I -settle down alone again, as we did at the beginning, I should like us to -have a little place somewhere where we could see blue water and the -ships going by." - -"Yes," I said at once, feeling exactly as he did--that though the farm -and our country home were well enough under present circumstances, they -would not be our choice when we had only ourselves to think of--that the -sea was the sea, in short, and had reclaimed our allegiance--"yes, that -is what we will do. We will end our married life where we began it--with -this beautiful sound in our ears!" - -We had turned the breakwater at Williamstown, and were meeting the wind -and tide of the outer bay, which was a little ocean this fresh night. -The sharp bows of the Bendigo, and her threshing screw astern, made that -noise of racing waves and running foam which was thrilling me like music -and champagne together, so that I had no words to describe the -sensation. My hair was blown hard back from my forehead and out of the -control of hairpins; my face felt as if smacked by an open hand, and I -had to screw up my eyes and pinch my lips together to stand the blow; I -felt the keen blast pierce to my skin through all the invalid wrappings -that I was swathed in--and it was lovely! Tom thought I should catch -cold, but I knew better, though I was glad to be tied into his 'possum -rug, with an oilskin overall to take the flying spray; and I insisted on -staying out with him till nearly midnight--till we had passed the -furious Rip and were battling with the real swell of the real ocean, -which tossed the steamer like a cork without making me seasick. It was -squally and galey and dark as a wolf's mouth--neither moon nor -stars--only the lighthouse lights which were all we needed, and the -white streaks in the black sea which were the long rollers coming to -meet us. And I felt as safe as--there is nothing that can give a notion -of how safe I felt. My husband took care of me as he used to do on the -Racer, only fifty thousand times more carefully, because he was my -husband. Ah, how sweet it was! With all our sorrows, how happy we were! -And might have remained so if we had not been interfered with. - -But that wretched woman spoiled it all. I had forgotten her altogether -during the evening, when dinner and darkness and the rough weather kept -her from us; I forgot her in the night, which I spent in my deck cabin -so as to leave Tom his bunk on the bridge for such snatches of sleep as -he had a mind for; the deck as well as the cabin was my own--his and -mine, for he still came down at intervals to look at me through the open -door and assure himself that I was all right--and the common herd were -under it. But when I emerged in the morning, just as the breakfast-bell -was ringing, the first thing I saw was Mrs. Harris coming down the -stairs which had "no admittance" plainly affixed to them, and Tom in -attendance on her as if she were the Queen. She descended backwards, -feeling each step with her glittering pointed shoe, slower than any -tortoise, and he guided her with one hand and held her skirts down with -the other, out of the wind. It was a windy morning, but sunshiny and -beautiful, and I had intended to enjoy my first meal in the air and in -privacy with my husband, as I had done the last. - -I suppose I looked my surprise, for they both seemed to colour up when -they perceived me standing and watching them. In one breath they bade me -a loud good morning, and made unnecessary announcements about the -weather. - -"You have been on the bridge?" I questioned, with my eyes fixed on the -brass plate which proclaimed the bridge sacred. - -"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Harris gaily. "It's the nicest place I know to be -on, especially at this time of day. Many an early visit have I paid the -captain up there, haven't I, Captain?" - -I lifted eyebrows at Tom, but he would not look. - -"Got an appetite for breakfast, Polly?" he shouted, taking my arm. "Come -along, and let's see if you don't do your doctor credit." - -"I am not going to the saloon," I returned quietly, disengaging myself; -"I am going to have my breakfast on the bridge with you." - -"But I'm not going to breakfast there. I'm off duty, and we may as well -be comfortable when we can." - -Then he congratulated us both on being such good sailors as to be able -to go to breakfast the first morning, and, not to make a fuss, I let him -take me down into the saloon, and seat me at the public table by his -side, _vis-à-vis_ with Mrs. Harris. He spoke to other passengers, -shaking hands with some, and introducing me to one or two. A rather -nice man talked to me throughout the meal, while Mrs. Harris monopolised -Tom entirely. - -This was not what I had come to sea for, and so, as soon as I had -finished, I slipped away, ran up to the bridge, got out a little chair, -and prepared for a quiet morning with my husband, where no one had the -right to disturb us. In fact, I was fully resolved to defend that -bridge, if need were, against unauthorized intruders. Mrs. Harris might -have done what she liked with it and him in those old times that she was -for ever flinging in my face. She would not do it now. - -Scarcely had I opened my workbag and threaded my needle when up she came -as bold as brass, with a yellow-back under her arm. It was too much. I -felt that, if I were to make any stand at all, it must be now or never, -or I should be altogether trodden under foot. So I looked at her with an -air of calm inquiry, and said, "Oh! Mrs. Harris--do you want anything?" - -"No, thanks," she replied in an off-hand tone. "The steward is bringing -up my chair." - -"Bringing it _up?--here?_" - -"Certainly. Why not?" - -"Only that--perhaps you don't know--nobody is allowed on the bridge. The -notice is stuck up against the stairs." - -"Then why are you here?" she retorted, bristling. - -"I am the captain's wife." - -"I presume the captain's wife is as much a passenger as the rest of us," -she argued, with an offensive laugh. "I presume the captain can do what -he likes with his own bridge, at any rate. If _he_ gives one the freedom -of the city, one certainly has it, beyond question; and I have always -been accustomed to sit here when travelling with him. Thank you, -steward--in this corner, please." - -She took possession of her chair. - -"If one person has the freedom of the city," I said, trying to keep my -voice from shaking, "all should have it. He has no business to make -distinctions where all are equal." - -"All are not equal," she cried, reddening. And I remembered that she was -a considerable person in her own eyes. But I said firmly, "Pardon me. -All who pay the same fares are on the same footing--or should be. And -there is not room here for everybody." - -"The captain," said she, "can entertain his friends as he chooses, and I -am one of his oldest friends, besides being related to his owners. And -as for his having no business to do this or that--oh, my dear Mrs. -Braye, do allow the poor man to know his own business best--I assure you -he knows it perfectly, nobody better--and let him be master, at any -rate, on his ship, whatever he may be in his home." - -She laughed again, as she settled herself and opened her book. I was -simply speechless with indignation. But, even had I been able to speak, -I was not one to bandy words with that sort of person. I just rolled up -my work, quietly rose, and went downstairs to my cabin on deck. - -"Why do you go away?" she asked, as I passed her. "Isn't the bridge big -enough for us both?" - -"No," I replied. And that was my last word to her. - -Going down the stairs, I met Tom coming up. He said, "Hullo, Polly, -where are you off to?" I looked at him steadily--that's all. And his -face clouded over. He passed on, leaving me alone. - -But they were not long together. Five minutes later I heard her voice -suddenly through the open port of my cabin--that horrible deck cabin, -where I was surrounded and pressed upon by talking, boot-clumping -passengers, who just could not spy in upon me because I had door shut -and window curtain down. Doubtless she did it on purpose. She must have -known where I was, seeing that I was not on the bridge or sitting out on -deck. She was speaking to some man of her acquaintance. - -"It is always a mistake," she said, "for captains to have their wives on -board. I wonder the owners allow it. It spoils the comfort of the other -passengers--who, after all, are the chief persons to be considered--and -demoralises the poor fellows to such an extent that they are not like -the same men. Look at Captain Braye, whom I've known for ages--the -dearest old boy you can imagine when he's let alone--it's pitiful to see -him henpecked and cowed, and afraid to call his soul his own, shaking in -his very shoes before that vixen of a woman!" Her companion said -something that I could not hear--I believe it was my pleasant neighbour -at breakfast whom she was trying to set against me--and then she put on -the crowning touch. "It is always the fate of those exceptionally nice -men," said she, "to marry women who don't know how to appreciate them." - -I wondered for a moment if I could have heard aright. It was hard to -believe in such consummate insolence--such a wild, malignant, perversion -of facts. To talk of _Tom_ as a henpecked husband! To dub _me_, of all -people in the world, a vixen!! To say that I--_I_--did not appreciate -him!!! The thing was too utterly ludicrous to be taken seriously, and -yet it made me so angry that I could hardly contain myself. It made me -feel that it would have been a pleasure to rush out upon her and tear -her hair from her head, just like the real vixens do. I felt that my -husband, who was also the commander of the ship, ought to have spared me -this gross indignity, which could not have occurred if he had respected -his position, and kept himself to himself. - -Knowing that she was not with him now, I went back to the bridge. But -alas and alas! The bridge, that had been a little paradise, was a place -despoiled. Though the serpent had gone out of it, she had been there and -poisoned everything. Tom was not the same to me. All the pleasure of our -trip was at an end. I had a wretched day, and at night a gale came on, -and I was seasick for the first time. He did not know it, and I would -not send for him. Oh, it was horrible! It was tragical! It was -heart-breaking! I can't talk about it any more. - - * * * * * - -People came to meet her at Sydney, but she could not leave without a -ceremonious good-bye to her dear captain. She was calling for him -everywhere while he was busy making fast, and when she got him she shook -hands two or three times over, standing apart with him as at first, -regardless of me. Goodness knows I did not want to intrude, yet it was -impossible to help noticing the fuss she made. I heard her say--I am -quite _sure_ I heard her--that she was coming back with us; meaning, of -course, with him. She explained that she had but a day's business to do -in Sydney, and would then be able to return by the "dear old Bendigo"--I -distinctly caught those three words, in her high-pitched voice. And I -thought to myself that this would really be more than I could -stand--more than I could in reason be expected to stand. In fact, I was -so enraged that I was strongly tempted to put it to my husband that he -must make his choice between her and me. However, on second thoughts, I -perceived that it would be more dignified to say nothing, but to let my -acts speak for me. We had never been accustomed to bicker between -ourselves, he and I, and to a certain extent he was not responsible for -the situation. Any one not suffering from madness or an infectious -disease had the right to travel in the ship; he could not help it. But -if he could not turn the otherwise objectionable person off, he could -keep him or her in the passengers' proper place. My grievance with him -was that he did not keep that woman in her place. - -Being quite determined not to have another voyage with her, and not -wishing to say nasty things to him about it, I was glad when an old -acquaintance, paying us a call on board, asked me to stay awhile with -her, for the further benefit of my health, representing that the time -covered by the sea trip was all too short to recruit in. - -"Thank you very much," I answered, on the spur of the moment. "I really -think I will. I was never in Sydney but once, and then I had no chance -to see the beauties of the place, of which I have heard so much; and I -daresay it would do me good to have a longer change." - -I was aware of Tom's utter, silent astonishment, but I would not look at -him; I left him to read the riddle for himself. When he spoke it was to -quietly fall in with the proposal, adding suggestions that would have -made it difficult for me to draw back if I had wanted to do so. He was -so ready to leave me, indeed, that I fancied he _wanted_ to get rid of -me--of course he did not, but any one would have thought so--and -naturally that made me bitter. I spoke but little to him afterwards, and -he was certainly cold to me---he seemed to divine my suspicions and to -resent them--and I did not go to see him off; I could not. In short, our -holiday was entirely and irreparably ruined. - -I believe I cried nearly the whole time that I was in Sydney. It did -seem hard, in my state of health and under the sad circumstances, to be -stranded amongst strangers, who did not understand my sorrows, nor my -habits of life, and gave me none of the little pettings and coddlings -that I needed and was accustomed to; and the thought of that woman going -home with Tom, having the deck cabin, sitting on the bridge with him of -nights, making free with the whole ship, usurping my place and -privileges, drove me simply frantic--until one day I met her in the -street, and found she had not gone with him after all. - -Shaken all to pieces with the awful overland journey, more dead than -alive, I reached home a day or two after him, and discovered him calmly -digging the garden, as if he had forgotten my very existence. When he -saw me he smiled in an odd, constrained way, and said, as though it -didn't matter one way or the other: "Well, Polly? Had about enough of -it?" - -Angry as I was with him, I could not maintain any dignity at all--I was -too spent and weary. I broke down completely, and he took me into the -tool-shed to comfort me--took me into his arms, where I had simply ached -to be ever since I had left them, driven out by that detestable little -scheming, mischief-making snake-in-the-grass. - -"Oh," I sobbed, when I could find words and strength to utter them, "how -_could_ you leave me behind? How _could_ you abandon me like that, when -I was so ill and unhappy?" - -"Because," said he, "you wanted to be left. You distinctly asked and -were determined to be left. As for abandoning--it's I that was -abandoned, it seems to me." - -"You _knew_ I did not want to be left," I urged--for of course he knew. -"You must have seen that I only did it because I was vexed." - -"And what were you vexed about?" he inquired. "I must be too dense and -stupid for anything, but I'll be shot if I can understand you this time, -Polly." - -I told him that he was dense and stupid indeed, or he would not need to -ask the question. But when I told him, further, what it was that had -vexed me, he said that in some ways, when it came to denseness and -stupidity, he was not a patch on me. - -Of course it was not his fault in the very least. It was all hers. - - * * * * * - -P.S.--I have forgiven her now. Poor thing, it was only a manner with -her; she meant no harm. I did not see it then--no one could have seen -it, and I do not blame myself for being imposed on by appearances that -would have deceived a very angel, which I confess I am not, though the -least suspicious and uncharitable of women--but I became convinced of it -afterwards. - -It was when my Harry was made _dux_ of his school, a year later than he -would have been but for the favouritism of a master, who deliberately -miscalculated examination marks. Harry, by the way, will not allow that -this was the case, but that is his modesty and his feeling for the -honour of the school; he does not know as much about it as I do. I was -told on the best authority that he ought to have had the position, being -far and away (as I well knew) the cleverest boy, and that a certain -master had a "set" or "down" on him because he had caricatured the -wretch on the blackboard. It was another sixth-form fellow who said he -felt sure the figures must be wrong when he heard the result. - -However, there was no mistake about it this time. I, at any rate, was -sure of it, when I dressed for the Speech Day function, although the -names in the prize list were supposed to be unknown beforehand. Besides, -I had only to look at his face, calmly elated, the eyes twinkling with -suppressed excitement, to see that he had the secret--to be assured that -his merits were to meet their just reward at last. But there were some -mothers who allowed their mother's partiality to run away with them. I -heard of two who, up to the last moment, fully expected _their_ sons to -come out top. And Mrs. Harris was one of these. - -There was some justification for hope on her part, because young Harris -was really a very industrious, plodding fellow, and had always given a -good account of himself. He had not half Harry's brains, of course, but -he had great application and perseverance, and the moral of the hare -and tortoise fable is often exemplified in these cases. Especially when -the hare is such an all-round genius as my boy, a prize-taker for -goal-kicking, the mile handicap and the long jump, as well as for work -in class. Several times I had heard Harry say, with quite a serious air, -that the only one he was afraid of was Harris, and they stuck very close -together through the examinations, as far as the figures were known. So -when she crushed into the seat in front of me, gorgeously dressed and -beaming, nodding to right and left, I saw how it was. She was prepared -for any amount of envious notice and congratulation, quite thinking she -was going to outshine me. I smiled--I could not help it. But I was glad -afterwards that she had not seen me smile. - -I was also glad that Tom had not been able to accompany us this time, -though grieved for the cause--an accident to his foot while -tree-chopping. Our proximity to the maker of so much trouble in the -past, as to which we were still sore and reticent, might have rendered -the situation uncomfortable and altered its development altogether. -Harry had escorted me and his eldest sister--she a perfect dream, though -I say it, in pink cambric and a white muslin hat--and had now left us to -go and sit with his comrades at the back of the hall, whence a deafening -noise arose continuously, most exhilarating to hear. Dear lads! I -screwed my head round to look and laugh at their delightful antics, and -the figure of my fine boy leading all the revelry, until Phyllis's face -showed her sense of the indecorum of the proceeding. Children are so -dreadfully proper where their parents are concerned, and I am always -forgetting that I have to sit up and look dignified if I would have -their approval and respect. - -When the hall was crowded so that not another creature could squeeze -into it, a fresh demonstration heralded the entrance of the headmaster, -hooded and gowned, escorting the distinguished visitors, chief of whom -was the Exalted Personage who had consented to distribute the prizes. -They packed the daïs, round the book-piled table; the boys yelled and -thumped the floor with their boot-heels, sung a Latin hymn with all -their might, subsided with difficulty, and allowed the formal -proceedings to begin. I sat in a perfect simmer of joyous excitement and -expectation, fully equal to theirs, and I noticed that Mrs. Harris's -face was flushed and that she kept smiling to herself in a vague way, -restless and fidgety. Poor thing! Her boy was an only son, like mine, -and she was one of those many love-blind mothers who mistake their geese -for swans. I saw quite plainly that she had no suspicion of the truth, -and was sorry for her. Some one ought to have given her a hint. - -The headmaster read his annual report--every paragraph punctuated with -vociferous cheers from the back benches--and the Exalted Personage made -a speech, unnecessarily diffuse. Then there was a shuffling and -whispering and readjustment of the blocks of books on the table, the -E.P. advanced to the front of the daïs, the H.M. lined up beside him -with his list, and after a few little preliminaries (the awarding of a -couple of scholarships) the great moment arrived. Although I had known -so certainly what would happen, when it did happen I literally jumped -from my seat. - -"_Dux_ of School--_Henry Thomas Beauchamp Braye._" - -My heart seemed to leap into my throat, I clasped my hands, I suppose I -made some exclamation unconsciously, for Phyllis plucked at my sleeve -and whispered "Hush-sh!" quite fiercely. The child was not grown-up -then, but still thought herself competent to teach me how to behave in -public. She sat herself like any stock or stone, an image of propriety, -as if it was a matter of no concern to her at all that her brother was -set on the highest pinnacle of honour that a schoolboy could reach. - -He came striding up the hall like a young prince, with none of that shy -awkwardness which made the other boys look so clumsy, and his mates -cheered him to the echo as he mounted the platform to receive his load -of prize-books and the congratulations of all the great folks. I never -saw anything prettier than his quiet bows, his modest and yet dignified -bearing, and his kind way with the fellows who crowded up to shake hands -with him when he came down amongst them again, helping him to carry his -trophies and making a regular royal progress of his return to his seat. -I noticed young Harris amongst the first of these, and thought to myself -that a defeated rival who could behave so nicely to the successful one -must have the essential spirit of a gentleman in him. And I found it was -so when I came to know him. - -A little later, when the lesser prizes were being disposed of, and the -interest of the proceedings was not so all-absorbing--as I just sat in -placid ecstasy, thinking of nothing but my own happiness--a movement in -front of me brought his poor mother to my mind. She had ceased to -fidget, and I had forgotten to notice her. Now she rose slowly, in a -fumbling sort of way, remarking to a lady near her that the heat of the -hall was insufferable and was making her faint. It was very hot, and -she looked faint, with all the colour gone from her cheeks and her lips -twitching and trembling; but, oh, _I_ knew what the trouble was! Poor, -stricken soul! She felt just as I should have felt had I been in her -place--just as I had felt a year ago when told that that pig-faced -Middleton boy had ousted Harry--and my heart bled for her. Of course she -pretended not to see me as she passed out--I should have done the same -had our positions been reversed--and must have almost wanted to murder -me, indeed; but--well, mothers have a fellow-feeling at these times, -under all the feelings common to humanity at large. I could not resist -the impulse that came to me. She had no sooner disappeared through the -nearest door, seeking the fresh air for her faintness, than I, defiant -of my daughter's dumb protests, got up and went out after her. - -She was leaning against the grey wall, holding her handkerchief to her -eyes. When she heard me she turned and glared, like a strange cat that -you have penned into a corner. The next moment we were in each other's -arms, and she was sobbing on my neck with the abandonment of a child. - -And we have been the greatest friends ever since. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -DEPOSED. - - -The little sound that is as common as silence--a familiar step, a -murmured word, an opening door--one hears it a thousand times with -contented indifference, as one hears the singing of the tea-kettle. But -one day it falls on the heart as well as on the ear, like the stroke of -a swift sword. It seems exactly the same, but one knows at once that it -is not the same. In the twentieth part of a second one recognises the -voice of a dire calamity--especially if one is a mother, and has heard -it before. - -Tom came into the house by way of the kitchen, and I heard him say to -Jane, in quite a quiet tone, "Where's Mrs. Braye?" That was all. I -sprang from my chair, wild with terror, dropping my needlework to the -floor. For I knew--I knew--I didn't want to be told--that something had -happened to Harry. My boy! my boy! I had been scolding him, only an hour -ago, for making love to Lily's governess--a minx, whom I had just -requested to find another situation--and he had slammed the door almost -in my face on leaving me. I had been longing for Tom to come in, that I -might tell him all about it, and have a little cry on his shoulder, and -my dignity and authority in the house supported; but now that he was -here my tongue was paralysed. And I had no grievance, but an -immeasurable remorse. - -"Don't be frightened," said my husband, trembling, in a would-be -off-hand voice, "it's nothing very serious--just a bad shaking--I told -him that new mare of his wasn't to be trusted, and there was a nasty -stone just where she threw him. He's stunned a bit, that's all--no bones -broken. I have sent for the doctor. Now look here, Polly----" - -He opened his arms across the doorway, but I broke through them -furiously. Did he remember the night when little Bobby shot himself, -trying to get an opossum skin for his mother's birthday? I was not kept -back then. We ran together, hand in hand, to meet our common woe, and I -was first at the spot, and it was on my breast that he lay to breathe -his last. Why not now, when a worse thing had befallen me? No, I don't -mean that; nothing could be worse--except that every year your child is -with you adds innumerable fresh strands to the rope of woven -heart-strings already binding you to him, and thus makes more to bleed -and ache when the wrench comes. And Harry was -twenty-three--twenty-three, and over six feet, and the handsomest young -fellow in the whole country! I flew full speed to find him, and see what -they were doing to him. It was my mother's right, which a dozen fathers -should not deprive me of. - -At the garden gate I met the procession coming in. They carried him -carefully on a mattress, over saplings roped together. A little rabble -of people followed, one of them leading the fiend that had done the -mischief, a vicious, half-broken, buck-jumping brute that had worried us -for a long time, although Harry always trusted his own fine horsemanship -to get the better of her tantrums. And rightly, too. If he had not been -in a bad temper, poor darling, and doubtless running risks for the -perverse satisfaction of doing so, because of the mood he was in, -nothing in the shape of a horse could have thrown him. He was -notoriously the best rider of the day--at any rate, of our -neighbourhood. - -I slammed the gate to shut out everybody, and the bearers lowered his -litter, and I bent over him. He did not know me. When I leaned down to -listen if he breathed, I saw a little bubble of blood oozing from his -mouth; then I knew that he was more than stunned--that it was worse even -than broken bones. I left off crying, and became quite calm. I had to. - -We were sliding him from the mattress to his bed when Dr. Juke arrived, -and he made us stop and let him do it; for, though my poor lad seemed -unconscious, he panted and grunted in a way that showed we were hurting -him, with all our care. The doctor felt and lifted his limbs, and said -they were all right, and then undressed him as he lay; I got my large -cutting-out scissors, and we hacked his good clothes to pieces--but that -didn't matter--until we left him only his shirt and woollen singlet, and -even those we cut. And just as we were finishing making him comfortable, -as we hoped, he came to and looked at us. My precious boy! His breathing -was short and fluttery, and he seemed too full of pain to speak, except -in gasps. - -"Oh, my side! my side!" - -He wailed like a child--a sound to drive a mother mad. - -Dr. Juke said, "Ah, I thought so." And, having made a little -examination, he reported a fracture of the ribs, with some injury to the -lung. He whispered something to Tom, and then told me I had better send -for a trained nurse, and said it would be as well to get a good surgeon -from town also, so as to be on the safe side. - -I was willing enough to send for a dozen surgeons--though I had perfect -faith in Juke, who was a clever young man, newly out from home and up to -date, an enthusiast in his profession--but I could not bear the thought -of a professional nurse. I knew those women--how they take possession of -your nearest and dearest, and treat even an old mother as if she were a -mere outsider and an utter ignoramus. I protested that I could do all -that was necessary--that no one could possibly take the care of him that -I should. Was it likely? - -"But he will probably want nursing all day and all night for weeks," -said Dr. Juke. "You could not do that unaided. You would break down, and -then where would he be?" - -"I will telegraph for my daughter," I rejoined. Phyllis was away at the -time, visiting. - -"Miss Braye is too young and inexperienced," he objected, with the airs -of a grandfather. "It would not be fair to her. She is better where she -is, out of all the trouble. However, there is no need to decide -immediately. We'll see the night through first. All we can do for the -present is to make him as easy as possible and watch symptoms. The -_most_ important thing is not to meddle with him." - -This seemed a hard saying, and at first I could not credit it. It was -terrible to see nothing done, when he evidently suffered so--more and -more as the first shock passed and the dreadful fever rose and rose; but -while the lung was letting blood and air into the cavity of the chest, -which could not be reached to stop the leak, handling of any sort only -aggravated the mischief. The doctor explained this to me when I was -impatient, and I had to own that he was probably right. He asked me to -see about drinks and nourishment, and when I left the room to do so I -had a mind to seize the opportunity for a few frantic tears in private, -impelled by the pent-up anguish I could not otherwise relieve. - -But outside the door--Harry's door--I came upon Miss Blount. The little -fool was crying herself--as if it were any concern of hers!--and looked -a perfect sight with her swelled nose and sodden cheeks. Somehow I -couldn't stand it, on the top of all the rest--I just took her by the -arm and marched her back to the schoolroom. I hope I was not rough or -unkind--I really don't think I was--but to see her you would have -thought she was a ridiculous little martyr being led to the stake. I -said to her--quite quietly, without making any fuss--"My dear, while you -remain in this house--until the notice I have been compelled by our -contract to give you has expired--oblige me by keeping in your proper -place and confining your attention to your proper business." - -Just as if I had not spoken--and I am sure she never heard a word--she -turned on me at the schoolroom door and clutched at my dress. With both -hands she held on to me, so that I really could not get away from her. - -"Oh, tell me, tell me," she cried, with a lackadaisical whine, as if we -were playing melodrama at a cheap theatre, "_What_ does the doctor say? -Is he, oh, _is_ he going to die?" - -I replied--cuttingly, I am afraid--that the doctor seemed perfectly -well. There was no sign of dying, that I could see, about him. - -Then she said "Harry!" Yes, to my very face! As if she had a right to -call my son by his christian name. I was greatly exasperated; any mother -would have been--especially after what had happened. - -I answered, "_Mr_. Harry _is_ going to die--_thanks to you_, Miss -Blount." - -I truly believed that he was, and I honestly thought that it was her -doing; because if she had not misconducted herself, and tempted him to -do so, I should not have had to scold him, and he would not have gone -out in a rage, to ride a young horse recklessly. Still, it has occurred -to me since that perhaps I was not quite just to her, poor thing. - -Oh, what a night that was! Temperature 103 degrees, and a short, -agonising cough catching the hurt side, which he was obliged to lie on, -because the other lung had to do the work of both. We padded him with -the softest pillows in the house, and tried ice, and -sedatives--everything we could think of; but we could not soothe the -struggling chest, which was the only way to stop the inward bleeding. -And he kept up a sort of grinding moan, like a long "u" in French--worse -than shrieks. It was too, too cruel! I wonder my hair did not turn -white. - -Next day we got the surgeon from town; the day after, the nurse. But I -came to an understanding with her before she set foot in Harry's room. I -bade her remember that he was my son, and that a mother could not -consent to be superseded. She asked if she were to be allowed to carry -out the doctor's orders, and when I said "Yes, of course," she seemed -satisfied. She was a good creature. After all, I don't know what we -should have done without her. There is a limit to one's strength, and -though Phyllis was a great help outside the sick-room, we did not think -it right--Dr. Juke did not think it right--to let her be much in it. - -She came home as soon as she heard what had happened, in spite of his -advice. I went downstairs one day, and found her sitting in the deserted -drawing-room, with her hat on, talking to him; I thought he had gone an -hour ago, but he had seen her arriving, and stayed to break things to -her and give her all the particulars, before she met the rest of us. He -was somewhat inclined to be officious, though he meant well. - -I exclaimed in astonishment at the sight of her. - -"It was no good, mother; I had to come," said she, rising quickly and -taking out her hat-pins. "And I did not warn you, for fear you should -prevent me. Don't scold me--Dr. Juke doesn't. I want to help, and he -says I can be a lot of use." - -"Invaluable," said Juke, in a young man's gushing manner. "It was only -for your own sake, Miss Phyllis, that I wished you out of it." - -She is not Miss Phyllis, by the way, but Miss Braye. - -"I mean to be everybody's right hand," she continued, trying to cheer -me. "We are not going to let you kill yourself any more, mother dear. -And we are not going to let Harry die, either--are we, Dr. Juke?" - -"No, no," replied the doctor, with an exaggerated air of reassuring me, -as if pacifying a timid child. "We'll pull him through amongst us. The -sight of your face"--it was not my face he meant--"will be the best -medicine he can have. Only, remember, you must not talk to him." - -"I know--I know. You will find that I shall be discretion itself." - -She was quite gay. I could see that she did not yet realise the -situation, poor child, whatever Juke had told her about it. But when I -took her upstairs, and showed her the changed face in the sick-room, she -was shocked enough. She and her brother were devoted to each other. They -used to go to their little parties and entertainments together, and -everybody used to remark upon their looks and say what a handsome pair -they made. He thought--that is, he used to think, before other girls -spoiled him--that there was no one like his sister Phyllis, and she -thought the same of him. Nevertheless, when I told her of his conduct -with Miss Blount, she was quite indignant. She said she would never have -believed it of him. At the same time she was firmly convinced, as I was, -that Miss Blount had done the love-making and led him on. What a comfort -it was to have my dear girl to talk to and confide in! She was not only -a lovely young creature--though I say it--but had the sense of an old -woman. Lily was quite different. But then Lily was a child--barely -seventeen--and she had an absurd infatuation for her governess, such as -you often see in a raw schoolgirl. It was a stupid mistake on my part to -engage a person of twenty-two to teach her--I saw it now; and I think it -a still greater mistake to confer University degrees on such young -women. You seem to expect them to be above the imbecilities of ordinary -girls, and they are not a bit. - -Well, we shut them up together in a separate part of the house, giving -them their meals in the schoolroom. We did not want Lily to be losing -the education we were paying so much for, and Tom and I just took our -food as we could get it. We had no heart to sit down to table. Sometimes -he slept for a little, and sometimes I, but one or the other of us was -always on guard; while Phyllis prepared the iced milk and soda, and -waited on the nurse and doctor. Certainly the doctor was most devoted; -he could not have done more for his patient if he had been his own -brother. - -I am sure it was the opinion of his medical colleague that Harry could -never pull through. He said, in so many words, that the case was as -grave as possible, owing chiefly, as I understood, to the accumulation -of fluid in the chest, which could not be mechanically dealt with. -Nevertheless, the dear boy rallied a little, and then a little more--the -fever keeping down in the daytime, and not running quite so high at -night--until it really seemed that we might begin to hope. He was such a -splendid young fellow, and had such a magnificent constitution! But for -that I am convinced he could not have survived an hour. One afternoon he -was sleeping so comfortably that they all insisted on my going out for -some fresh air. Tom took me for a walk round the garden, and we planned -what we would do for our beloved one when he got well--how we would go -for a little travel to amuse and cheer him, to recruit his strength and -distract his mind from nonsense. - -When I returned, I found that he had awakened from his sleep, calm and -refreshed; that he had asked to see his sister Lily, and--that that fool -of a nurse had allowed it! Oh, I could have shaken her! As it was, I -gave her a talking to that she sulked over for a week. Lily, she said, -had only remained with him ten minutes--as if one minute wouldn't have -been enough to undo all our work! _Idiot!_ And to call herself a trained -nurse, too! - -As soon as I approached his bed I saw the difference. Not only had he -been doing so well, he had been so nice to me, so loving and gentle, as -if feeling that all was right between us. Now he was flushed--I knew his -temperature had gone up again--and he looked at me as if I were his -enemy instead of his mother. - -"Is it true," he said, "that you have given Miss Blount notice?" - -I did not know what to say. Seeing the absolute necessity for keeping -him quiet, I tried to put the question aside. But he would have an -answer. - -"Dearest," I pleaded, "I am doing for the best. And you will be the -first to acknowledge it when you are yourself again. It is for her -sake," I added, though I'm sure I don't know why I said that. - -He continued to look at me as if I were a graven image, insensible to -the tears that filled my eyes. And he looked _so_ handsome--even in this -wreck of health--a fit husband for a queen. - -"Mother," he said, in a stern way, "if you do a thing so unjust as that -I will never forgive you." - -Ah, Harry! Harry! And after all I had done for him--slaving night and -day! After all the love and care, the heart's blood, that I had lavished -on him for nearly twenty-four years! - -"Unjust!" I repeated, cut to the quick. "My boy, I may have my faults--I -daresay I have--nobody is perfect in this world; but my worst enemy -cannot lay it to my charge that I have ever committed an injustice." - -He smiled, but it was a hard smile. And the nurse came up, as bold as -you please, to tell me I must be silent, as I was exciting him. _I_ -exciting him! It was then I gave her that talking to. - -Well, he had been getting on as satisfactorily as possible up to this -point. But now, of course, he went back. His temperature was 104 degrees -in the night, and he complained of pains and uneasiness, and turned -against his nourishment, light and liquid as it was. When he did get a -snatch of sleep, his breathing was as restless as possible. Sometimes it -went fast, and sometimes it seemed to stop, and then he would suddenly -give a deep snore, and a jump that hurt his side and roused him. After -which he would lie still a little while, staring at the wall. His eyes -were full of fever, and presently he began to talk, and we could not -make out what he was saying, except that little huzzy's name--Emily. He -kept saying "Emily"--no, "Emmie"--as if he thought she was in the same -room. Once I fancied he called me, and when I went to him he put up his -poor hands--already so thin and bleached!--and I thought he wanted to be -forgiven and be friends with his mother again. But, just as I was -dropping on my knees beside him to take him into my arms, he said, "Kiss -me, Emmie." And, oh, in such a voice! It made me feel--but I can't -describe how it made me feel. - -And next day he had a shivering fit, and the day after another, with -more fever than ever when they had passed off--a thirst like fire, and -pain in breathing, and delirium, and everything that was bad and -hopeless. Dr. Juke said it meant blood-poisoning, and that he had -expected it from the first; but I did not believe it. For was he not -doing beautifully up to the moment when Lily was allowed to see him and -upset him with her tales? This time we sent for two doctors from -Melbourne, and they and Juke were closeted together for an hour after -making their examination; and, when they came out at last, they said -they were agreed that our boy was in so desperate a state that nothing -short of a miracle could save him. - -I called the girls into my room to break it to them, and we sat on the -sofa at the foot of my bed and had our cry together. I was completely -broken down. So was poor Lily. She sobbed so violently that I was afraid -Harry would hear her. Phyllis was more composed--she always was--and -refused to despair as long as life was in him. She professed contempt -for the great doctors, and pinned her faith to Juke. Juke had told her -that miracles, in his profession, were constantly happening, and that -for his part he did not mean to give up the fight until all was over. - -"I believe, mother," said my brave girl, "that he will succeed, after -all, in spite of those old fogies. He knows a lot more than they do, and -he says there's no calculating the power of youth and a sound -constitution in these cases. He says----" - -But I was too wretched to listen to her. They were not old fogies to -me--those two experienced men--and a young doctor is but a young doctor, -however clever; I found it impossible to hope at this juncture. Lily was -kneeling by me with her arms round my waist, quite hysterical with -grief; and for the moment I felt that she was more in sympathy with me -than her sister. I realised my mistake when the child suddenly sprang to -her feet, hitting my chin with her head as she did so, and declared that -she must go to "poor Miss Blount." - -"Lily," I cried, as she was flinging out of the room in her impetuous -fashion, "what are strangers at such a time as this?" - -"Nothing," said Lily, in a brazen way--she would never have spoken to -her mother in that tone if she had not been encouraged; "but Miss Blount -is not a stranger. She loves Harry, and Harry loves her, and she's -broken-hearted, and she's ill, and she's nearly out of her mind, and -nobody ever says a kind word to her! Even now that he's dying, and they -can't have each other, you treat her as if she were dirt. Poor, poor -Emily! Let me go to her! Now that Harry's dying, she's got nobody--not a -soul in this house--but me!" - -Well, indeed! Who'd be a mother, if she could foresee what would come of -it? To have this blow, on the top of all the rest, and at _such_ a -moment! I felt quite stunned. At first I could only stare at her--I -could not speak; then I said, "Go, go!" and pointed to the door. For I -could bear no more. - -As soon as she was gone, I turned to my faithful Phyllis, put my head on -her shoulder, and sobbed like a baby. - -"Oh, Phyllis," I cried, "never you get married, my dear! Never you have -children, to suffer through them as I suffer!" - -She was wiser than I, however. She said she didn't think it was -altogether the children's fault. - -I admitted it at once. "You are quite right," I said, "and I was wrong. -It is not the children's fault. It's the fault of that hateful creature, -who has set them both against me. First Harry, then Lily--the very one -she was hired to teach her duty to! Fancy a governess, calling herself a -governess, and a B.A. to boot, corrupting an innocent young girl, a mere -child, with all the details of a clandestine love intrigue! What infamy! -What treachery!" I was beside myself when I thought of it. Any mother -would have been. - -But Phyllis was not a mother, and she was but lukewarm in this matter -upon which I felt so strongly. Indeed, I was half inclined to fear that -she, too, had become infected by the evil influence amongst us, until I -found that it was Dr. Juke who had been putting ideas into her head. -Dr. Juke was undoubtedly very clever, and we were enormously indebted to -him; still, I have always felt that he was too fond of giving his -opinion upon things that were altogether outside his province. It -appeared he had been telling Phyllis that it was very bad for Harry to -have any trouble on his mind, and that it was absolutely necessary, if -we would give him his full chances of recovery, to remove any that we -knew of which could be removed. - -"After all," said Phyllis, in a tone that showed how he had talked her -over, "she's a ladylike person enough, and certainly a clever one." - -"Clever, indeed," I retorted, "to have caught a man like him! And -looking all the while as demure and innocent as a nun--as if butter -wouldn't melt in her mouth! Oh, Phyllis, it would blight his career for -ever." - -"Perhaps not," she rejoined tolerantly--for she was too young to know; -"but even so, I would rather have him blight his career than die." - -"You speak," I cried--"you actually speak as if _I_ wanted him to die!" - -Here Tom came in, and when she saw her father she got up to leave us -together. I was glad indeed to have him to myself for a few minutes. We, -at any rate, understood each other. He has his faults, dear fellow, and -I often get impatient with him; but he loves me--he thinks the world of -me--he doesn't question my judgment and criticise my conduct, as the -children do. I was going to tell him about Lily, and about what Juke had -said to Phyllis; but when he took me into his great, strong, kind arms, -I was too overcome to utter a word. I could do nothing but weep. Nor -could he. We thought how we had toiled and slaved to make our precious -boy the man he was--how we had nursed him through his baby illnesses, -and pinched ourselves to send him to public school and University, and -been so proud of his beauty and his talents and his achievements, and -looked forward with such joy to the name he would make in the world; -and how we were to lose him after all, just as we were looking for the -reward of our love and labours--and in this truly awful way! - -Tom said it was quite certain now that he would die. Blood-poisoning had -set in; there were swellings in some muscles of his body to prove it--a -fatal symptom, as every one knew. It only needed to spread to an -internal organ, and the machine would stop at once. - -"And the sooner it's over, the better," groaned Tom, "and the poor -chap's sufferings at an end. Ah, Polly, old girl, little we thought of -this when he was born, and we were as vain as two peacocks over him! Do -you remember how you brought him up to Sydney, because you couldn't wait -till I got home--and we had him on the bridge at night when the -passengers were a-bed below----" - -"Oh, don't!" I wailed in agony. Remember it! Did I not remember it? And -a hundred thousand heart-breaking things. - -But we had to compose ourselves as best we could, and go back to our -dreadful duties; he to see that the doctors had a proper lunch before -they left, I to renew my watch in the sick-room--to see the last, as I -supposed, of my dying boy. - -On my way I came upon Jane hurrying along the passage with a basin of -hot broth. Harry was not allowed animal food, so I stopped her to ask -what she was doing with it. - -"Taking it to Miss Blount," she replied; and I fancied she did not speak -quite so respectfully as usual. "That poor young lady hardly touches her -meals, and it do go to my heart to see her look so ill. I thought -perhaps a drop of good soup'd tempt her." - -Now I did not want to get the character--which I am the last person to -deserve--of being a hard woman. I am not one of those low creatures that -one reads of in novels who don't know how to treat a governess properly. -To me Miss Blount was as much a lady as I was myself, and I had always -made a point of considering her in anything. Besides, it was not the -time for animosities. All was changed in view of Harry's approaching -death. She could not injure him any more. So I took the little tray -from Jane, and said to her, "Go back to your kitchen, and attend to the -doctors' lunch. I will take the broth to Miss Blount, and find out what -is the matter with her." - -The girl was in her bedroom. When she saw me she jumped up, as scared as -if I had been an ogress come to eat her; but when I first opened the -door she was kneeling against her bed, as if saying her prayers. -Certainly, she did look ill. She had had a very nice complexion--no -doubt poor Harry had noticed it--and her eyes were good; but now her -skin was like tallow, and her eyes all dark and washed out, and they had -a curious empty expression in them that I did not like at all. I put the -tray on the drawers and went up to her, and laid my hand on her -shoulder. "My dear," I said, as kindly as I could speak, "I have brought -you a little nourishing broth, that I think will do you good. And you -must take it at once, while it is hot, to please me." - -She did not so much as say thank you, but just stood and stared in a -dazed, fixed way, like a deaf mute. So, naturally, I did not feel -inclined to bother myself further about her, and I turned to go. As soon -as I did that, however, she spoke to me, calling my name. Her voice had -a sort of lost sound in it, as if she were talking in her sleep. - -"Mrs. Braye," she said, "there's something I have been wanting to say to -you." - -"What is it?" I inquired. - -"If Mr. Harry gets well, I will not marry him--to blight his career. I -never would have injured him, and I never will. I would die sooner." - -Well, it seemed rather late to think of that. Still, it showed a nice -spirit, and I liked the way she spoke of him. She really was a lady, in -her way, and--poor thing!--she did look the picture of misery. I am a -tender-hearted woman, and I could not but feel a pang of pity for her. - -"Ah, my dear," I said, "there's no question of marrying or not now! He -is going fast, and nothing matters any more." - -Then I kissed her--I kissed her affectionately--and bade her lie down, -and not trouble about Lily's lessons; and I told her that whenever there -was a change in Harry's condition I would let her know. - -The change came a few days later--not suddenly, but creeping inch by -inch; and it was not the change we had all anticipated. My splendid boy! -Just as he had struggled and triumphed at football and cricket, so his -magnificent strength fought with and overcame the poison in his blood -before it could deposit itself in vital organs. It was marvellous. The -very doctors, accustomed to miracles, could not believe their senses -when they counted his pulse and looked at the little thermometer, and -felt the places where the sore lumps had been. For weeks, I may say, we -seemed to hold our breath in the maddening suspense, tantalised and -intoxicated with a hope we dared not call a certainty; but at last we -knew that life had conquered death, and that I was not called upon to -undergo _this_ agony of motherhood a second time. Of course he was -weaker than a new-born baby--a mere shadow of himself; but he was saved. -When they told me, I fell on my knees, just where I stood, and cried in -my wild rapture and thankfulness, "Oh, God! God! What can I do--what -uttermost service or sacrifice can I offer--for all Thy goodness to me?" - -They looked at me in an odd way. They all looked at me, even my boy with -his hollow eyes. And Tom said, "Come here, Polly, I want to speak to -you;" and took me into our room, and laid his hand on my shoulders. He -stood six feet in his socks, and weighed sixteen stone, but he trembled -like a child. - -"Old girl," he said, "you'll have to let him have her." - -"Oh," I replied, "if he wants the moon, give it to him! I don't care." - -It was a figurative way of expressing my mood of joy--my longing to -compensate him utterly for what he had gone through; and I don't think I -ought to have been taken so literally. But, before the words were well -out of my mouth, Tom made off to Harry's room, and there and then -informed him that "mother had given her consent." - -And he did not tell me he was going to catch me up in this way. When -next I went to my boy's bedside, and he murmured, "Good old mummy!" and -remarked, with that deep thrill in his voice, that it was worth while -getting well, I thought he meant that it was worth while getting well to -see us all so happy. - -"Ay," I said, from my heart, "if you hadn't got well, it's little that -would have been worth while to _me_ any more." - -"Poor old mummy!" he ejaculated. And then, turning serious eyes upon my -face, "You will never regret it. I can answer for that." - -"You need not waste breath to tell me what I know better than I know -anything," I responded, smiling. - -"I mean," he said, still seriously, "about _her._" - -Then I understood why he had said it was worth while to get well. She -was of more consequence to him than all his own people put together. - -"Her?" I queried, smoothing his hair--not letting him guess the pang I -felt. - -"Miss Blount. Father says you have been so good to us--that you have -given us leave--that it's all right now. Look here, mother, if you only -knew her----" - -I stopped him, for he was getting agitated. - -"If your heart is set on it, darling--by and by, I mean, when you are -quite well, and have thoroughly considered the matter--don't imagine _I_ -shall be the one to disappoint you and make you unhappy. I never have -been a cruel mother, have I? And as for knowing Miss Blount, if I don't -know her, having her constantly in the house with me, who should? Don't -worry yourself about Miss Blounts or anything else till you are -stronger, dearest. Put everything out of your head--think of nothing -whatever--except getting well. And when you are quite well--then we'll -see." - -"I can't put her out of my head. I want to see her, mother." - -"So you shall, dear--as soon as you are fit to see people. I will ask -the doctor about it." - -"Juke wouldn't object; he'd be glad. Oh, mother----!" - -The nurse came up, and said she thought he had talked enough. I thought -so too. His thin cheek was flushed, and his lip trembled; he was -inclined to excite himself, and had not strength to spare for that just -yet. I gave him his nourishment, turned his pillow, and whispered to him -that, if he would sleep for a few hours, then he should have his wish. - -"Honour bright?" he whispered back. - -"Don't insult me," I retorted. "When did you ever know me to break a -promise?" - -"To-day, mother?" - -"To-day--if Dr. Juke approves. Of course we must have doctor's express -permission." - -"All right. Give me a squirt of morphia, nurse." - -"No, Master Harry. No more morphia, my dear--except maybe a time or two -at night, when you _can't_ do without it." - -"I can't do without it now," he said. "I've got to sleep before I can -see her, and I can't sleep, of myself, until I do see her." - -"There," I exclaimed, flinging out a hand. "What did I say? I _knew_ -what the effect would be." - -The woman--who, I found, was actually privy to the whole affair--Tom's -doing, no doubt--began to give her opinion, as is the way of those -nurses. "If you'll take my advice," said she, "you'll let him see her -now, and sleep afterwards. It'll tire him less than fretting for her." - -"And if you will be so good as to mind your own business," I replied, -quietly but firmly, "I shall be infinitely obliged to you." - -I had not been out of the room five minutes before Tom came to seek me, -looking quite hoity-toity, as if he thought himself aboard ship again, -with sailors. - -"Now then, Polly," he said, "I'm not going to have any more nonsense -about this. The boy is too weak to be worried. I am going to fetch -Emily." - -"Since when," I asked, "has it been your habit to call her Emily?" - -He stared, and looked confused. "I suppose," he said, "I've caught it -from Harry." - -"Talking with him so much about her, when it was so necessary to keep -him calm? And to that nurse woman, behind my back--as if the private -concerns of our family were any concern of servants! Tom, I didn't think -_you_ would ever be disloyal to me." - -"I don't think I ever have been, Polly. What's more, I don't think you -would ever imagine such a thing in cool blood. Come, you are not going -to spoil this happy day for us all, are you? The boy has been given back -to us by a miracle----" - -That was enough. I flung myself into his arms. - -"Forgive me! Forgive me!" I cried. "I know it is wicked of me. But you -don't _know_ how I feel it, Tom!" - -"Yes, I do, pet; I know exactly." - -"No one but a mother _can_ know. I used to be everything to him once, -and now he is only glad to get well because of her!" - -"Well, it's natural. We----" - -"No, we didn't. We had no mothers. But never mind--I won't be selfish. I -will go and fetch her at once." - -"Would you rather I went?" - -"_Certainly_ not! Do you suppose I want them to go on thinking that you -are their only friend, and I their implacable enemy? _I_ want to make -him happy as much as ever you can do." - -"That's right, old girl. If you're going to do a kind thing, do it the -kindest way you know. They'll be just fit to worship you, both of 'em." - -I did not ask to be worshipped, but I did want my boy to love his mother -a little. I ran to him, brushing the nurse aside. - -"Dearest," I whispered, "I am going to bring Emily. She shall sit with -you as long and as often as you like. She shall be your wife, if you -want her. I will make a daughter of her--for your sake." - -I took the kiss I had so richly earned, and hurried to the schoolroom. -There sat Miss Blount, still faded and tearful, but beaming with the joy -that filled the house, like the sun through rain. She and Lily had been -crying and rejoicing together, congratulating one another. I waved the -child aside, and, taking her governess by the hand, with a "Come, dear," -which I could see explained everything in a moment, led her into Harry's -room. - -After all, she was a lady, and a B.A. He might have done worse. But when -I saw the look he turned to her when she ran like a deer to his -arms--poor sticks of arms!--and how he held her, and crooned over -her--oh, it was like a dagger in my breast! - -Tom took me away, and tried to comfort me. He reminded me that we did -the same ourselves when we were young, and that we still had each -other. - -"You've still got me, Polly. _I_ sha'n't desert you." - -Yes, yes; of course I still had him. But---- - -Well, a _man_ can't understand. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. - - -A boy who is not yet twenty-four, and who has nothing beyond his salary -as a clerk in a shipping office, and whose young lady is a pauper, can -get engaged if he likes; but he cannot get married. I pointed this out -to Harry as soon as he was well enough to be reasoned with. I said to -him, "You know, my dearest, that there's nothing in the world I would -not do to make you happy, but it would not be making you happy to let -you think for a moment of such madness." It appeared, from Tom's -account, that the child had been thinking of it--doubtless at Emily's -instigation. "I might as well encourage you to cut your throat. Far -better, indeed." - -"Better?" he echoed, lifting his eyebrows, and smiling in that queer way -of his. - -"Better!" I insisted firmly. "You little know what it means--that -rushing into irrevocable matrimony without counting the cost--without -knowing what it entails--without experience or means----" - -"Mother," he interrupted, still smiling--a little impudently, though I -don't think he meant to be rude--"you were not any more experienced than -we are, and not any older or richer, were you?" - -I replied with dignity that my case was nowise in point. He wanted to -know why it was not. I said, because I--unlike him--had been practically -homeless at the time. And he cried, "_Were_ you? I never heard of that!" -and stared at me in such a way that I blushed hotly, though old enough -to know better. He was an obstinate fellow, and he corresponded with his -grandfather and young uncles and aunts in England, and had a heap of -their autographed photos in his room. I thought I had better turn him -over to his father. - -Tom was walking in the garden with Emily, who had managed to get around -him in that innocent-seeming way of hers--well, I must not be -uncharitable; I daresay it _was_ innocent, and I could almost have -fancied that they did not care about being interrupted. Only, of course, -that's nonsense. - -"My dear," I said, in a sprightly voice, "your young man seems to find -his mother a bore these days, and it's only natural. I have been trying -to cheer him, and he responds by yawning in my face. Pray do go and -exercise your spells, which are so much more potent, and leave me my old -man, who is still my own." - -Was there any harm in a little light chaff of this kind? One would -surely think not. But Tom, standing and looking after her as she slipped -away, blushing in her ready, _ingénue_ fashion--so unlike a B.A.--said, -quite gravely---- - -"That's a dear little soul, Polly! And I wouldn't speak to her in just -that sort of a way, if I were you. It hurts her." - -"It hurts _me_," I returned, "when _you_ speak in that sort of a way. -It is most unjust. Can't you take a joke? You know perfectly well that I -treat her with the utmost kindness and consideration--that I have -accepted her unreservedly, for my boy's sake." - -"Well, well," said he, "I know you don't mean it. Your bark's worse than -your bite, old girl. Come and look at the new pigs." - -He drew my hand under his arm and patted it. We had had so many little -tiffs lately--things we never dreamt of till Miss Blount came!--that I -was determined not to quarrel now. It should never be said that _I_ was -to blame for making a happy home unhappy. I swallowed my vexation and -went to see the pigs--thirteen little black Berkshires, all as lively as -they could be, on which he gloated whole-heartedly for the moment, as if -they were more than wife or children. In his expansive ardour he offered -me one of them to make a festive dish of for Sunday. - -"Let us have a little feast, Polly, for the young folks. Harry is able -to sit up to table now, and we have done nothing to celebrate the -engagement yet. Sucking-pig and one of the fat turkeys, and ask Juke to -join us. Eh?" - -"My dear," I replied, "I am perfectly willing to celebrate the -engagement in any way you like--yes, we'll have a nice dinner, and ask -Dr. Juke--I am sure we owe him every attention that we can possibly pay -him; but what I want to warn you against is letting them suppose that -there is to be any celebration of the marriage--with our consent." - -Tom stared as if he did not understand. - -"You mean, not immediately?" he questioned. "Of course not." - -"I mean, not for _years_," I solemnly urged. "Tom, you must back me up -in this. The boy is but a boy, with his way to make in the world. Before -we allow him to saddle himself with a wife who will probably be quite -useless--those University women always are--and the responsibilities of -a family, he _must_ be in a position to afford it." - -"Yes," said Tom, in a tepid way. "But you and I, Polly----" - -"Oh, never mind about you and me," I broke in; "that is altogether -different"--for of course it was. "You were a man of twice his age." - -"Which would make him about fourteen," said my husband, trying to be -funny. - -As for me, I saw nothing to laugh at. I cannot imagine a more serious -position as between parent and child. "At his time of life," I said, -"four years are equal to ten at any other stage. Let him have those four -years--let him begin where his father did--and I shall be quite -satisfied." - -"Well, you see, my dear, it hardly rests with us, does it?" - -Tom stirred up the mother sow with his walking-stick, and sniggered in a -most feeble-minded fashion. - -"How? Why not?" I demanded. "Do you mean to say you have not the power -to influence him? Do you think that Harry, if properly advised, would -persist in taking his own way in spite of us? I refuse to believe that -any son of _mine_ could do such a thing." - -Again Tom laughed, looking at me as if he saw some great joke somewhere. -I asked him what it was, and he said, "Oh, never mind--nothing." But I -knew. He was thinking of my own elopement, to which I was driven by my -father's second marriage--an incident that had no bearing whatever upon -the present case. It exasperated me to see him so flippant about a -matter of really grave importance, but I determined not to let him draw -me into a dispute. - -"Four years," I said mildly, "would give them time to know each other -and their own minds. It would be a test, to prove them. If at the end of -four years they were still faithful, I should feel assured that all was -well. But of course they would get tired of each other long before that, -and so he would be spared a terrible fate, and all the trouble would be -at an end." - -We had left the pigsty and were pacing the paths of the kitchen garden, -surveying the depredations of the irrepressible slug. - -"The rain seems to wash the soot away as fast as I put it on," sighed -Tom. "I'll get a bag of lime, and try what that'll do. Well, Polly, for -my part, I should be very sorry to think them likely to get tired of -each other. And I don't believe it, either. I don't think she's that -sort of a girl somehow." - -"How like a man!" I ejaculated. "Just because she's got a pretty face!" - -"No, not because she's got a pretty face--though it is a pretty -face--but because she's good as well as pretty. She's a right down good -girl, my dear, believe me--just the sort of daughter-in-law I'd have -chosen for myself, if I had had the choosing. I told Harry so. You -should have seen how pleased he was!" - -"No doubt. But I don't see how you can know whether she's good or not. -_You_ are not always with her, as we are." - -"Oh, I see her at times. We have little talks occasionally. A man can -soon tell." He put his arm round my waist as we paced along. "I haven't -been married to you for all these years without knowing a good woman -from a bad one, Polly." - -It was intended for a compliment, but somehow I could not smile at it. -In fact, I shed a tear instead. And when he saw it, and stooped to kiss -it away, my feelings overcame me. I threw my arms round his neck and -begged him not to let fascinating daughters-in-law draw away his heart -from his old wife. I daresay it was silly, but I could not help it. Of -course he chuckled as if I had said something very funny. And his only -reply was "_Baby!_"--in italics. So like a man, who never can see a -meaning that is not right on the top of a word. - -However, I promised to be nice to Emily--nicer, rather, for, as I told -him, I had always been nice to her--and he said he would take an early -opportunity to have a serious talk with Harry. - -"But let the poor chap alone till he gets his strength again," he -pleaded--as if I were a perfect tyrant, bent on making the boy -miserable; "let the poor children enjoy their love-making for the little -while that Emily remains here. She has been telling me that she's got a -fine appointment in a school--joint principal--and that she's going to -work in a fortnight--to work and save for their little home, till Harry -is ready for her." - -"_What?_" I exclaimed. "She never told me that." - -"She will, of course, when you give her the chance," said Tom, with an -air of apology. - -"She ought to have told me, she ought to have confided in me, first of -all," I urged, much hurt, as I had every right to be; "I can't -understand why she did not. You seem," I concluded passionately--"you -all seem to be having secrets behind my back, and shutting me out of -everything, as if I were everybody's enemy. It is always so!" - -"It is never so," replied Tom, laying his arm round my shoulder. "You -are never outside, old girl, except when you won't come in." - -That was what they always said when they wanted to defend themselves. - -But here we dropped the painful subject, and discussed the details of -our proposed festival. - -"Only Juke?" I inquired, counting on my fingers. "That makes seven in -all--an awkward number." - -"No matter for a family party," said Tom. "We are not going in for style -this time. The boy in his armchair and pillows will take the room of -two." - -"Still, we may as well make it an even eight," I urged. "Otherwise the -table will look lopsided, and one or other of the girls will have nobody -to talk to." - -"They will be quite satisfied to have their brother to look at. No, no, -Polly, don't let us make a company affair of it, for goodness' sake. -Harry wouldn't like it, or be fit for it either." - -"And isn't Juke company?" - -"By Heavens, no! We owe it to that young fellow that our only son isn't -in his grave--yes, Polly, I am convinced of it--and my house is his, and -all that's in it. Besides, he'll be here professionally--to see that -Harry doesn't overeat himself. Oh, Juke is quite another pair of -shoes." - -I certainly did not see it. He had served us well, no doubt, and we had -paid him well; each side had done its part in a generous and -conscientious spirit. I considered he had no more claim on us now than -the thousands of passengers Tom had carried when he was a sea captain -had on him. I am sure no doctor in the world can match a ship's -commander of the most common type for self-denying devotion to the cause -of duty. But, seeing Tom so inclined to be cross and unreasonable, I -thought it better to say no more. We returned to the sty to select the -piglet that was to be killed, and in my own mind I selected the guest -who should make the table symmetrical. I knew that Harry would only -rejoice to see another friend, and it was due to Phyllis to provide her -as well as the others with a companion. It was also an opportunity which -I did not feel it right to miss for serving her interests in other ways. - -I am not one of those vulgar match-makers who are the laughing-stock of -the young men, and properly so--quite the contrary, indeed: no one can -accuse _me_ of scheming to get my daughters married. Still, they must be -married some day--or should be, in the order of nature--and surely to -goodness a mother is permitted to safeguard, to some extent, a -thoughtless and ignorant girl against the greatest of all the perils -that her inexperience of life can expose her to. Not for the world would -I force her inclination in any way, but there is a difference between -doing that and letting her make a fool of herself with the first casual -puppy in coat and trousers that crosses her path. The duty of parents is -to protect their adolescent children from themselves, as it were, in -this incalculably important matter; that is to say, to keep their path -clear of acquaintanceships from which undesirable complications might -result, while encouraging innocent friendships that may develop with -impunity. Otherwise, what's the use of being parents at all? Your -children might as well be orphans, and better. I neglected this duty, -certainly, when I allowed Harry and Emily Blount to have access to each -other; but then a son is not like a daughter--you can't be always -overlooking him--and that affair was a lesson to me. I determined to be -more vigilant in Phyllis's case. - -Phyllis is not like other girls. I think I may say, without a particle -of vanity, that she is the very prettiest in Australia, at the least. -There may be greater beauties at home--I don't know, it is so long since -I was there; but if there be, I should like to see them. Her features -are not classical, of course, and that dear little piquant suggestion of -a cast in the left eye is a peculiarity, though it is not a defect, any -more than are the freckles she gets in summer: these trifles of detail -merely go to make the _tout-ensemble_ what it is--so charming that she -has but to enter a room to eclipse every other woman in it. This being -so, I was naturally anxious that she should marry, when she did marry, -into her proper sphere, and not be thrown away upon a man unworthy of -her. And I only took the most simple and necessary precaution for her -safety when I limited my invitations to young fellows whom I could -trust--like Spencer Gale. - -Tom says I never had a good word for Spencer Gale until he made his -fortune in Broken Hills. It amuses Tom to make these reckless -statements, and it doesn't hurt me in the least. I _always_ liked the -boy, but any fair-minded person must have acknowledged that his change -of circumstances had improved him--brushed him up, and brightened him in -every way. It was not his wealth that induced me to throw him into my -daughter's company, but his sterling personal qualities. A better son -never walked, excepting my own dear Harry--that alone was enough for me; -a good son never fails to make a good husband, as everybody knows. - -His sister was a friend and neighbour of mine, and I knew that he was -staying with her. At one time all the family had lived here, Mr. Gale -having Tom's fancy for amateur farming and market-gardening in his -leisure hours. Spencer and Harry, both being clerks in Melbourne -offices, used to go into town together of a morning; that was how we -came to know them. But when Spencer had some shares given him which went -to a ridiculous price directly afterwards, and when his money, by all -sorts of lucky chances, bred money at such a rate that he was worth -(they said) a quarter of a million in a twelvemonth, then they all left -this out-of-the-way suburb for a big place in Toorak--all except Mary -Gale, who married a poor clergyman before the boom. Mary's husband, Mr. -Welshman, was the incumbent of our parish, and her good brother was not -at all too grand to pay her visits at intervals, besides helping her to -educate the children. Which proved conclusively that prosperity had not -spoiled him. - -I walked to the parsonage on Friday afternoon, hoping to find him there; -but he was out, and I only saw Mrs. Welshman. I used to like Mary -Welshman in the old days, but she has become quite spoiled since people -began to make a fuss of her family on Spencer's account. It is always -the case--I have noticed it repeatedly; when sudden wealth comes to -those who have not been accustomed to it, it is the girls whose heads -are turned. I asked for Spencer, and mentioned that we wished him to -dine with us, and you would have thought I was seeking an audience with -a king from his lord chamberlain. - -"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure," she said, with her absurd airs of -importance. "He is so much in request everywhere. He is certain to have -a dozen engagements. I don't think you have the remotest chance of -getting him, Mrs. Braye, on such short notice." - -The fact was that she did not want me to get him. She had the fixed -delusion--all the Gales had--that there wasn't a mother or daughter in -the country who was not plotting to catch him for matrimonial purposes; -and she let me see very plainly her suspicion of my motives and her fear -of Phyllis's power. - -"To-night," she exclaimed, in a tone of triumph--"to-night he is dining -at the Melbourne Club, to meet the Governor." Poor thing! It was amusing -to see how proud she was of it--evidently bursting to proclaim the news -to all and sundry. - -"Very well," I said, smiling, "I will just drop a note to him at the -club." - -And then I turned the conversation upon parish matters, as the best way -of taking the conceit out of her. For I don't believe in clergymen's -wives setting themselves up to patronise their lady parishioners, on -whose favour and subscriptions (to put it coarsely) their husbands' -livelihood depends. - -On my way home I was fortunate enough to encounter Spencer Gale himself. -He was looking very well and handsome, riding a magnificent horse, which -curveted and pranced all over the road when he checked its gallop in -obedience to my uplifted hand. I felt a thrill of maternal pride as I -gazed at him--of maternal anxiety also. - -"My boy," I cried, "do pray be careful! Remember what happened to poor -Harry from this sort of rashness, and what a valuable life it is that -you are risking!" - -"Oh, it's all right, Mrs. Braye," he responded, in his nice, cheerful -way. "It is only oats and high spirits. How's Harry? Getting along like -a house afire, Mary tells me. I'm awfully glad." - -Dear fellow! His kindness touched me to the heart. I suppose he was -afraid to dismount from that obstreperous beast, lest he should lose -control of it, and I am sure he could not help the way it tried to -trample on me with its hind legs when I came near enough to talk. - -I told him how beautifully Harry was doing, and how he was to have his -first dinner with us on Sunday, and how delighted he would be to see an -old friend on such an occasion--and so on. Spencer seemed not to -understand me for a moment, owing to the clatter of the horse, for he -said he could not come because he was going to dine with the Governor at -the Melbourne Club. - -"But that is to-night," I called. "And we want you for the day after -to-morrow--Sunday. Just a simple family meal at half-past one--pot-luck, -you know." - -He did not answer for some minutes--thinking over his engagements, -doubtless; then he asked whether _all_ of us were at home. Aha! I knew -what that meant, though of course I pretended I didn't. I said that no -member of the family would be so heartless as to absent herself from -such a festival as Harry's first dinner; that, on the contrary, his -sister was more devoted to him, and far more indispensable both to him -and to the house than a dozen hospital nurses. I described in a few -words what Phyllis had been to us during our time of trouble, and he -smiled with pleasure. And of course he consented to accept the casual -invitation for her sake, pretending reluctance just to save appearances. -It was arranged that he would be at his sister's on Sunday, and walk -back with us after morning service. - -I told Tom in the evening, when he was sitting in the garden with his -pipe, in a good temper. You would have supposed I was announcing some -dreadful domestic calamity. - -"Whatever for?" he grumbled, with a most injured air. "I thought we -were to be a comfortable family party, just ourselves, and no fuss at -all." - -"There will be no fuss," I said, "unless you make it. He is just coming -in a friendly, informal manner, to fill the vacant place. If you will -have Dr. Juke, there must be another man to balance the table." - -"But why that man? You know Harry can't bear him since he's got so -uppish about his money and his swell friends. Why not have somebody of -our own class?--though I think it perfectly unnecessary to have anybody -under the circumstances." - -"Our own class!" I indignantly exclaimed. "I hope you don't insult your -children, not to speak of me, by implying that they are not good enough -for Gales to associate with?" - -"They are," said Tom; "they are--and a lot too good for one Gale to -associate with. But he don't think so, Polly." - -"If he did not, would he do it?" was my unanswerable retort. But it is -useless trying to argue with a prejudiced man who is determined not to -see reason. And I felt it wise to leave him before he could draw me into -a dispute. - -Harry, however, was equally exasperating. He said, "Oh, then I shall -make it Monday, if you don't mind. Better a dinner of herbs on -washing-day in peace and comfort than a stalled ox on Sunday with -Spencer Gale to spoil one's appetite and digestion for it." But Emily -rebuked him on my behalf. She had but to look at him to make him do what -she wished, and I suppose she thought it good policy to propitiate the -future mother-in-law. - -Phyllis, whom I had expected to please--for whose sake I had gone to all -this trouble--was simply insolent. Alas! it is the tendency of girls in -these days. Respect for parents, trust in their judgment and deference -to their wishes, all the modest, dutiful ways that were the rule when I -was young, seem quite to have gone out of fashion. You would have -thought that she was the mother and I the daughter if you had heard how -she spoke to me, and seen the superior air with which she stood over me -to signify her royal displeasure. - -"Oh, well, you have just gone and spoilt the whole thing--that's all." - -I could have cried with mortification. But then, what's the use? It is -only what wives and mothers must expect when they try to do their best -for their families. - -I had another struggle with her on Sunday morning. She refused to -accompany us to church. She said she was not going to offer herself to -Spencer Gale as a companion for a half-hour's walk--that he was quite -conceited enough without that; if other girls chose to run after him and -spoil him, she didn't. As if _I_ would ask her to run after any man! And -as if Emily or I could not have walked home with our guest! But I -learned a little later what all this prudishness amounted to. When we -came back from church--Emily, Lily, Spencer, and I--we found an empty -drawing-room, Harry and Tom in armchairs on the verandah, and Phyllis -away in the kitchen garden gathering strawberries for dessert with Dr. -Juke! And I discovered that that young man had interpreted an invitation -to lunch at half-past one as meaning that he should arrive punctually at -twelve. Tom pretended that he had called professionally at that hour, -and been persuaded to put his buggy up in our stables and remain. - -"And I suppose you persuaded him?" I said, trying--because Spencer was -standing by me--to keep what I felt out of my voice. - -"Well, my dear," replied the fatuous man, "the truth is, he didn't want -much pressing." - -There are times when I feel that I could shake Tom, he is so -wooden-headed and silly--though so dear. - -However, Phyllis, when I called her in, greeted Spencer Gale with proper -cordiality; and the whole family behaved better than I had expected they -would. They seemed to lay themselves out to be pleasant all round, and -to make Harry's first day downstairs a happy one. It was a delightful -early-summer day--he could not have had a better--and our pretty home -was looking its prettiest, for we had had nice rains that year. Phyllis -had decorated the table beautifully with roses, and Jane had surpassed -herself in cooking the dinner. The pig was done to a turn--I never -tasted anything so delicious--and the turkey was a picture. We had our -own green peas and asparagus and young potatoes, and our own cream -whipped in the meringues and coffee jelly--in short, it was as good a -dinner as any millionaire could wish for, and in the end everything -seemed to go as I had intended it should. - -Harry was no trouble at all. I purposely put him at his father's end of -the table, with Emily between him and Juke, to pacify him; and, with his -young lady at his side and Spencer as far off as possible, the dear boy -was as gay and good-tempered as could be, quite the life of the party. -Spencer sat between me and Phyllis, and she really seemed to devote -herself to him. I was surprised to see how little fear she evidently had -of appearing to throw herself at his head, like the other girls; she -chattered and joked to him--the prettiest colour and animation in her -face--and hardly glanced at Juke opposite, who, for his part, confined -his attentions to his neighbours, Miss Blount and me, and was -particularly unobtrusive and quiet. - -As for Spencer Gale, he was most interesting in his descriptions of what -he had seen and done during his recent European travels; it was quite an -education to listen to him. I was particularly pleased that he was so -ready to talk on this subject, because I hate to have the children grow -up narrow-minded and provincial, ignorant of the world outside their -colony. It has been the dream of my life to take them home and give them -advantages, and I have never been able to realise it. I could not help -thinking, as that young man discoursed of Paris and Venice and all the -rest of it, what a delightful honeymoon his bride might have! And so she -did, as it turned out, no great while afterwards. - -Harry yawned and fidgeted, for sitting long in one position tired him; -so Tom and Juke carried him to a cane lounge on the verandah before the -rest of us had had dessert. I was annoyed with Phyllis for running out -to get pillows, which were already there, and for not returning when she -had made her brother comfortable. Emily had the grace to remain at -table, and of course Lily stayed also. She is a most intelligent child, -voracious for information of all sorts; and she plied our guest with so -many questions, and amused him so much by her interest in his -adventures, that she made him forget the strawberries on his plate and -how time was going--forgetting herself that the poor servants were -wanting to clear away so that they might get out for their Sunday walk. - -At last he finished, and I led the way to the verandah, where I expected -to find the others. But only Harry and his father were there, the boy -looking rather fagged and inclined to doze, and Tom--who has no -manners--placidly sucking at his pipe. - -"Why, where is Phyllis?" I inquired. - -"Kitchen," said Harry promptly, opening his eyes. - -"And the doctor?" - -"Gone off to a patient." - -"Then," said I, "come and let me show you my roses, Mr. Gale;" and I -took his arm. I thought it a good opportunity to have a little quiet -talk with him on my own account. Afterwards I remembered that my husband -and son watched us rather anxiously as we sauntered off into the garden, -but I did not notice it at the time. It never crossed my mind that they -could deliberately conspire to deceive me. - -I had had the garden tidied, and, in the first flush of the summer -bloom, it looked really beautiful--although I say it. I would not have -been ashamed to show it to the Queen herself. And our rustic cottage, -that we had continually been adding to and improving ever since it came, -a mere shanty, into our hands, was a study for a painter, with the -yellow banksia in perfection, quite hiding the framework of the -verandah. I halted my companion on the front lawn, at the prettiest -point of view. - -"A humble little place," I remarked; "but I think I may say for it, -without undue vanity, that it looks like the home of gentlefolks." - -He followed my gaze, and fixed his eyes upon the particular window which -I informed him belonged to Phyllis's room. - -"What's she doing?" he inquired bluntly. He could not conceal his -impatience for her return. - -I told him that, in the case of so variously useful a person, it was -impossible to say. I had no doubt she was attending to housekeeping -matters, which she never neglected for her own amusement. Then I threw -out a feeler or two, to test him--to learn, if possible, something of -his tastes and character; it was necessary, for her sake, to do so. And -I was delighted to find that he shared my opinion of the colonial girl -as a type, and agreed with me that the term "unprotected female" should -in these days be altered to "unprotected male," seeing that it was the -women who did all the courting, and the men who were exposed to masked -batteries, as it were, at every turn. - -"A fellow's never safe till he's married," said the poor boy, doubtless -speaking from painful experience. "And not then." - -"That depends," said I. "There are people--I know plenty--who, having -married dolls like those we have been speaking of, find themselves far -indeed from being safe; but choose a good, modest, clever, loving girl, -who has been well brought up--one devoted to her home and unspoiled by a -vulgar society--and it is quite another pair of shoes, as my husband -would say. By the way, ask _him_ what he thinks of marriage for young -men." - -"I don't know that I want to ask anybody anything," he returned, a -little irritably--for Phyllis was still invisible--"except to leave me -alone to do as I like. I don't believe in having wives selected for me, -Mrs. Braye; I'm always telling my mother and sisters that, and they -won't pay the least attention. I think a fellow might be allowed to -please himself, especially a fellow in my position." - -"Certainly," I said, with all the emphasis I could command. "_Most_ -certainly. That is my own view exactly. I have always said that, in -respect of my own children, I would never force or thwart them in any -way. I chose the one I loved, regardless of wealth or poverty, and they -shall do the same. More than that," I added gaily, "I am going to be the -most charming mother-in-law that ever was! I shall quite redeem the -character. I will never attempt to interfere with my children's -households--never be _de trop_--never--oh! Why, there she is!" - -We were turning into a quiet path between tall shrubs--the fatal place -where, as I was told, Harry had been entrapped--and I suddenly saw the -gleam of a white dress in a little bower at the end of it. At the same -moment I saw--so did Spencer Gale--a thing that petrified us both. I was -struck speechless, but his emotion forced him to hysteric laughter. - -"I'm afraid," said he, recovering himself, "that we are _de trop_ this -time, at any rate." - -"Not at all," I retorted, also rallying my self-command. "Not at all. We -don't have anything of that sort in this family." - -But the facts were too palpable; it was useless pretending to ignore -them. Phyllis jumped out of the arbour, like an alarmed bird out of its -nest, and came strolling towards us, affecting a nonchalant air, but -with a face the colour of beetroot with confusion; and that unspeakable -doctor, who had caused her so to forget herself, strutted at her side, -twirling the tip of his moustache and endeavouring to appear as if he -had not been kissing her, but looking all the time the very image of -detected guilt. - -It is not necessary to state that Spencer Gale left immediately, and -never darkened our doors again. When, a little later, I had it out with -Phyllis, she declared, with a toss of the head, that she wouldn't have -taken him if there had been no other marriageable man living--that there -was only one husband for her, whom she intended to have whether we -liked it or not, even if she were forced to wait for him till she was an -old woman. I have often regretted that I did not control myself better, -but she, who had no excuse for violence, behaved like a perfect lunatic. -She went so far as to say she would never forgive me for the insults I -had heaped upon one--meaning Edmund Juke--who had no equal in the -universe, and who had saved her brother's life. Of course she did not -mean it--and I did not mean it--and we forgave each other long ago; but -I never hear the name of Spencer Gale without the memory of that -interview coming back to me, like a bitter taste in the mouth. - -He married about the same time as she did--a significant circumstance! -They say that he lost his boom money when the boom burst, and that he -drinks rather badly, and makes domestic scandals of various kinds. If he -does, it is no more than one might have expected, considering the -provocation. It is all very well for my family to repeat these tales to -his discredit, and then point to Edmund Juke in Collins Street gradually -climbing to the top of his profession; they think this is sufficient to -prove that they were always Solomons of wisdom, and I a fool of the -first magnitude. It does not occur to them that if some things had been -different, all things would have been different. The one man would never -have fallen into low habits if he had had Phyllis for his wife, and the -other would never have risen so high if he had not had her. That is how -I look at it. And as for material prosperity, no one could have foreseen -how things were going to turn out, and luck is like the rain that falls -on the just and on the unjust--it comes to the people who don't deserve -it quite as often as to those who do. - -For my part, I pay no heed to malicious gossip. There are always envious -persons ready and anxious to pull down those who are placed above them; -if they cannot find a legitimate pretext, they invent one. I see for -myself that he still lives in his beautiful Kew house, that his wife -still leads the fashion at every important social function and drives -the finest turn-out in Melbourne; that does not look as if they were so -very poor. And if one _could_ forgive infidelities in a married man, it -would be in the case of one tied to a painted creature who evidently -cares for nothing but display and admiration--to have her photograph -flaunted in the public streets, and herself surrounded by a crowd of -so-called smart people, flattering her vanity for the sake of her -husband's position. He may have a handsome establishment, but he cannot -have a _home._ So who can wonder if he seeks comfort elsewhere, and -flies to the bottle to drown his grief? It would have been very, very -different if my beautiful Phyllis had been at the head of affairs. - -However, if she is satisfied, it is not for me to say a word. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE SILVER WEDDING. - - -Emily went to her school in Melbourne, and I had to get another -governess for Lily. She was a horrid woman. I stood her for one quarter, -and then packed her off; and we had to pay her for six months, because -she threatened to sue us for breach of contract. The next that I -procured was a clever person enough, and not wanting in good manners, -but she ordered the servants about as if the house belonged to her, and -of course they resented it. So did I. Emily's gentle unobtrusiveness had -spoiled us for ways of that sort. Moreover, Miss Scott was terribly -severe upon Lily; the child was always in tears over lessons that were -too hard for her. I did not believe in overstraining a growing girl, and -ventured to remonstrate now and then on her behalf; but Miss Scott was -quite above taking advice from her elders and betters--as good as asked -me to mind my own business, or, at any rate, to allow her to know hers. -So I thought it best to make a change. - -And then I was deceived by false representations into engaging a widow -lady, who had seen better days. She was recommended to me as an -experienced teacher, having held situations in high families before her -marriage; and I naturally supposed that one who had been a mother -herself would be a safer guide for a young girl than one who had not. -But words cannot describe what a wretch that woman was. There is -something about widows--I don't know what it is--something that seems -almost improper--especially those that are by way of being young and -pretty, like Mrs. Underwood, though she was all forty, if she was a day, -in spite of her baby airs and graces and her butter-yellow hair. She had -the audacity to try and flirt with Tom, under cover of her pathetic -stories of her lost husband and children, and those better days that -were a pure invention; and he was too idiotically stupid--that is, too -innocent and simple-minded--to see what was so glaringly transparent to -everybody else. He used to think her an ill-used woman and pity her, and -think me hard and unfeeling because I didn't. Oh, never will I have a -widow about my house again! She entirely destroyed our domestic peace. -Things came to such a pass, indeed, that Tom even threatened--seriously, -and not in a joke--to get out his captain's certificate and return to -sea, because his home, that had always been so happy, had become -unbearable. - -She went at last, and then I felt that I had had enough of governesses. -Determined that I would never undergo such misery again, and at the same -time strongly objecting to boarding-schools for girls, there was nothing -for it but to superintend Lily's general studies myself, and take her -into town for special lessons. I did not like the job, and found her -very tiresome and disheartening; she seemed to mope, all alone, and -would not interest herself in anything. A girl in these days is never -satisfied with her mother for a companion, and after a time, when the -Jukes were settled in their Melbourne house, I was glad to let her go on -long visits to her sister. There she found plenty to occupy and amuse -her, while I sat solitary at home, working for them both. - -For I had no children left when she was away. The difficulty of the -governess was not the only trouble that resulted from Emily's desertion -of me. Harry also forsook the nest. He said it was inconvenient to live -so far from his office, though he had never thought of that while she -was with us, and that it would be better for business reasons to have a -lodging in town. I did not attempt to thwart him. And so, as soon as he -was strong enough to return to regular work--so valued was he by the -shipping firm which employed him that they had kept his situation open -during his illness--he took himself and a new bicycle to a stuffy -Melbourne suburb, where he would be in the way of meeting his beloved -frequently at the houses of her friends. - -I wanted to settle in Melbourne too, to be near them all. But our little -place was our own--a valuable property, yet unsaleable in these bad -times--and Tom said we could not afford it. Besides, I knew he would be -miserable cooped up in streets, and lost without his pigs and vegetable -garden. - -Thus we felt ourselves stranded on the shore while our young ones put to -sea--deserted in our old age--which, after all, is the common fate. Only -we were not in our old age, either of us. I have not a grey hair in my -head, even now, and have more than once been taken for Phyllis's elder -sister. On the day that she was married, when I wore pale heliotrope -relieved with white, I overheard old Captain Saunders--and a man of -eighty ought to be a judge--say to Mr. Welshman, "She's a pretty girl, -but her mother can beat her." And I should like to see the man of forty -who is the equal of what my husband was at fifty-five--or is at his -"present-day" age, which comes to little more. Tom is stout certainly, -but only in a dignified and commanding fashion; he can out-do Harry in -feats of strength, and his fine, bronzed face, with those keen blue eyes -in it, has a power of manliness that kings might envy. For the matter of -that, kings are not nearly so much of kings as he was accustomed to -being on board his ships. I know the lady passengers made themselves -ridiculous by the way they scrambled for his notice and a seat beside -him at the saloon table. - -To people like Mrs. Underwood, though she was really my contemporary, I -may seem very _passée_--no doubt I do--and a perfect granny to the -children, who regard youth and beauty as solely the prerogatives of -bread-and-butter misses in their teens; but--as Captain Saunders's -remark indicated--I am not too old to charm where I want to charm. No, -indeed; nor ever shall be--to one person, at all events. When Tom and I -woke up on our silver wedding morning and kissed each other, did we not -know what love meant as much and more than we had ever done, without -needing Juke and Phyllis, and Harry and his Emily to teach us? I should -think so, indeed! It seems to me that it _requires_ the fulness of many -years, fatherhood and motherhood in all stages and phases, innumerable -steps of painful experience climbed together, to bring us to the perfect -comprehension of love--the best love--that love in the lore of which -those children, who think themselves so knowing, are mere beginners, -with the alphabet to learn. - -And this, by the way--it has just this moment occurred to me--is the -kernel of the woman question, which seems so vastly complicated. Why, it -is as simple as it can possibly be. The whole thing is in a nutshell. -Those advocates and defenders of this and that, arguing so passionately -and inconclusively at such interminable length--how silly they are! You -have one set of people raving for female suffrage and equal rights and -liberties with tyrant man; you have another set of people storming at -them for thus ignoring the intentions of Nature, the interests of the -house and family. The intentions of Nature, indeed! The house and -family! When millions of poor women are old maids who haven't chosen to -be so!--who, of course, _could_ not choose to be so, unless -physiologically defective in some way or another. Poor, poor things! -They don't want equal rights with man, but equal rights with the lower -animals. As they don't know what they miss, they may be forgiven for the -way they speak of it in their books and speeches; but if they had it--if -all had it who by nature are entitled to it--there would be no more -woman question. I am quite convinced of that. Nature's intentions would -then really be fulfilled, and the other troubles of the case, all -secondary and contingent, would vanish. Of course they would. Man is not -a tyrant, bless him! The child is the only tyrant--the legitimate power -that keeps woman in her place. - -But, oh, how much that child does cost us! We give all freely, and would -give a thousand times more if we had it to give, for it is the most -precious of human privileges--the thing we really live for, though it is -inconvenient to admit it; but we pay with heart's blood, from the -beginning to the end. We pay so much and so constantly that it often -seems to me that the poor childless ones, undeveloped and inexperienced, -who cannot know the great joys of life, are also exempt from all sorrow -that is worthy of the name. - -Baby-rearing, absorbingly interesting though it be, is really a terrible -business; and the fewer the babies the worse it is. You hardly know what -it means to have a night's rest for dread of the ever-recurring -epidemics that so fatally ravage the nurseries of this country. Day and -night you have the shadow of the clinical thermometer, your sword of -Damocles, hanging over you, and are afraid to breathe lest you should -bring it down. Then, when this hair-whitening strain begins to slacken a -little and you think you are going to have an easy time, the children -that are now able to take care of themselves utterly refuse to do so. -Your girl goes wet-footed with a light heart, and you never see a -telegraph messenger coming to the house without expecting to hear that -your boy at school has broken his arm at football or his neck -bird's-nesting. They follow their mischievous devices, and you can't -help it; you can only cluck and fuss like a futile hen running round the -pond in which her brood of ducklings is splashing. That's worse than -baby-rearing, because you can at least do what you like with a baby. - -And then, when you pride yourself on having successfully got through the -long struggle, and you tell yourself that now they are going to be a -help and a comfort to you at last, off they go to the first stranger who -beckons to them, and think no more about you than of an old nurse who -has served her purpose--probably turning round to point out the errors -you have committed, and to show you how much better you would have done -if you had taken their advice. And that is worst of all. - -No trouble that I had had with mine, while they were with me, equalled -the trouble of being without them, especially on the silver wedding -morning, when I had, as it were, the field of my married life before me; -when I felt that a golden harvest was my due, and beheld a ravaged -garden with all its flowers plucked. It was my own fault that no letters -of congratulation came by the first post; I had purposely refrained from -reminding the children of the approaching anniversary, just to see if -they would remember it, and they had been too full of their own concerns -to give it a thought. Afterwards they scolded me for not telling them, -and were very repentant. I had no present either--that is, not on the -day. Tom had given me a silver _entrée_ dish, and I had given him a -silver-mounted claret-jug; but we had made our purchases a week too -soon, and had been unable to keep the matter secret from each other. It -was a wet morning, and I, being the first downstairs, was greeted with -the smell of burnt porridge in the kitchen. I thought it too bad of Jane -to let such a thing happen on such an occasion, and a hardship that -rain should be running like tears down the breakfast-room window panes -when I so particularly wanted to be cheered. It was April, the month of -broken weather, and leaves were falling thickly on the beds and paths -outside. I surveyed the dripping prospect, and noted how impossible it -was to keep the weeds down, with the summer-warmed earth so moist; and I -turned back into the room to see a late-lit fire fading on the hearth, -and the children's empty chairs against the wall. - -Well, I sat down behind the two lonely tea-cups and bowed my head on the -table, on the point of tears--feeling that I too was a denuded autumn -tree, an outworn woman who had had her day. And then, before I could get -out my handkerchief, Tom came in. - -He kicked two logs together, and the dying fire sprang to life; he -opened a window, and the freshest and sweetest morning air poured in, -sprinkled with a gentle shower and hinting at coming sunshine. - -"What a lovely day we've got, eh, Polly? What a beautiful rain! This'll -bring the grass on, and make the land splendid for ploughing, hey? -What's the matter, old girl? Missing the children? Oh, well, they're -happy; we've nothing to fret about on their account--nor on our own -either--and that's more than most people can say on their silver wedding -morning. Porridge spoilt? Oh, that's no matter--we have something better -than porridge. Here, Jane! Jane! Bring in the you know what, if you've -got 'em ready." - -Jane came in, smiling, with the new _entrée_ dish in her hands. Tom -watched it with gleeful eyes, and assisted to place it on the table. It -was his little surprise for me--mushrooms, to which I am extravagantly -partial--the first of the season. He had gone to Melbourne the day -before to buy them, and it was her absorption in the task of cooking -them delicately which had caused Jane to neglect the porridge--Tom's -first course at every breakfast. - -"There" said he, as he lifted the shining lid. He was as pleased as a -boy with his plot and its _dénouement._ - -"Oh, you _precious!_" I responded; and the gratitude he expected brought -tears to my eyes. "No one _ever_ had such a husband as mine!" - -He beamed complacently, and sat down beside me, inconveniently close. -With his arm round my waist, he helped me to pour out the coffee, and -spilled it on the cloth; he fed me with the best of the mushrooms and -morsels of beef steak, and wiped gravy from my lips with his own napkin. -He seemed to feel that I needed some extra comfort to make up for the -children's absence, though he said repeatedly that it was only fitting -we should have our wedding-day, whether gold, silver, or pewter, to -ourselves. - -"As for you," he said, "I declare you don't look a day older than when I -married you, Polly. Oh, well, a little fuller in the figure, perhaps; -but that's an improvement. Old Saunders is quite right--you can beat -the young girls still." - -I told him he could beat the young men in the making of pretty speeches, -and I pretended not to believe his flatteries; but I knew that he meant -every word he said, being the sincerest of men. And my spirits rose by -leaps and bounds, until I felt even younger than I looked, and like a -real bride once more, just as if those strenuous intermediate years had -dropped out of the calendar. The barometer was rising too. Before we had -finished our mushrooms the rain had all passed off, and the sun was -shining on a clean and fragrant earth. Everything outside glittered and -shimmered. It was a thoroughly bridal morning, after all. - -"And now, what shall we do?" my husband inquired, having lit his pipe -and taken a rapid glance over the newspaper. "We must do something to -celebrate the day. What shall it be?" - -"It doesn't much matter what, so long as we do it together," was my -reply. "But I think I should like to go out somewhere, shouldn't you? -It is going to be the perfection of weather." - -"Oh, we'll go out, of course. We'll have a day's sight-seeing, and our -lunch in town. Let's see"--we studied the "Amusements" column, as we had -so often seen the children do--"there's the Cyclorama; we have never -seen the Cyclorama yet, and I'm told it's splendid." - -"And it is years since we were at the Picture Gallery," I remarked. -"There must be dozens of pictures there that we have never seen." - -"We might go to the Zoölogical Gardens. If there was one thing more than -another that I was fond of as a boy it was a wild beast show. They feed -them at four o'clock." - -"Yes, and the seals at the Aquarium too. I remember seeing the seals fed -at Exhibition time. It was most interesting." - -"And they've got Deeming at the Waxworks, Harry says----" - -"Oh, Tom--waxworks! However, I don't see why we shouldn't go to -waxworks if we feel inclined. We are free agents. There is nobody to -criticise us now." - -I began to feel that it was really almost a relief to be without the -children, just for once in a way. Children are so dreadfully severe and -proper in their views of what fathers and mothers ought to do. - -"Well, go and get your things on," said my husband, "while I have a look -round outside." - -He dashed off to see that pigs and fowls were fed, and the boy started -on his day's work; and I ran into the kitchen to tell Jane not to cook -anything, and upstairs to change my dress and put on my best bonnet. In -our haste to make the most of our holiday, we frisked about like young -dogs let off the chain. It did not matter how undignified it looked, -since there was nobody to laugh at us. - -Before ten o'clock we were off, and before eleven we were in Melbourne, -sliding up Collins Street on a tram dummy, on our way to the Cyclorama. -The Picture Gallery had been set down as a first item of the -programme--it opened at ten, and one had the place to one's self during -the forenoon--but afterwards we put it at the bottom of the list, and -finally struck it out altogether. Our feeling was that we could do -pictures at any time--pictures were things young people would thoroughly -approve of as an amusement for parents--but that we could not always do -exactly as we liked. So we went to the Cyclorama first, and were so -intensely interested that we stayed there nearly an hour. We had read of -the battle of Waterloo in our school books, but never realised it in the -least; now we were like eye-witnesses of the fight, and the whole thing -was clear to us. A soldier amongst the spectators pointed out a number -of mistakes in the arrangements of troops and guns, but we did not -understand them, and did not want to; indeed, we would not listen to -him. We moved round and round in our dark watch-tower to the quiet -places, and gazed over the far-stretching fields with more delight than -our first peep-show at an English fair had given us. The illusion of -distance was so complete that it corrected all crudities of detail, and -we simply lost ourselves in the romance of the past and our own -imaginations. - -"Never saw anything so wonderful in my life," said Tom, as at last we -tore ourselves away. "I seem to smell that chateau burning, and to hear -those poor chaps groaning with their wounds. I'm glad we went, aren't -you, Polly?" - -I truthfully replied that I was very glad indeed, and we emerged into -the street, and he hailed a passing tram. Again we took our places on -the dummy, that we might see and feel as much of the bright day as -possible. Melbourne was still gay and busy, in spite of gloomy -commercial forecasts, and the weather was all that a perfect autumn -morning could make it. The sun shone now with an evident intention to -continue doing so till bed-time, and we basked in it on the dummy seat -like two cats. - -"What shall we do next?" asked Tom, consulting his watch. "It is not -near lunch-time yet. We must get an appetite for the sort of meal I mean -to have to-day." - -Before we could make up our minds what to do next, the tram had carried -us into Burke Street, and lo! there was the temple of the waxworks -staring us in the face. Tom signalled the conductor, and we jumped off, -hand in hand, and without a word made our way to the door of the show -which we had heard even young children speak of as beneath -contempt--only fit for bloodthirsty schoolboys of the lower orders and -louts from the country who knew no better. - -Well, we were from the country; and, whatever the artistic shortcomings -of this exhibition, it had the charm of novelty at any rate. Neither of -us had been to waxworks since we were taken as infants to Madame -Tussaud's. This was a far cry from Madame Tussaud's, but I must confess -that it amused us very well for half an hour. The effigies were full of -humour, and the instruments of torture in the chamber of horrors very -real and creepy. Also there were some relics of old colonial days that -were decidedly interesting. In short, we did not feel that we had wasted -time and two shillings when we had gone through the place, though we -pretended to have done so, laughing at each other, saying, "How silly we -are!" - -"Well, let's be silly," said Tom, at last. "There's no law against that, -that I know of." - -"None whatever," I gaily responded. "There's nobody to----" - -"Hush!" he exclaimed, interrupting what I was going to say with a sharp -snatch at my arm. We were just leaving the waxworks, and he pulled me -back within the door. - -"What's the matter?" I cried, bewildered by his sudden action and tone -of alarm. - -"Come back--come back!" he whispered excitedly. "For Heaven's sake, -don't let her see us!" - -"Who? who?" - -He pointed to the street, and I had a momentary glimpse of our daughter -Phyllis going by in her husband's buggy. Edmund, in his tall town hat, -which glittered in the sun, was driving her himself; she sat beside him -under her parasol, calm, matronly, dignified, a model of all propriety. -How would she have looked if she had seen her mother coming out of the -waxworks? It was quite a shock to think of it. - -"She has been shopping," said Tom casually, "and Ted's been out after -patients, and has picked her up, sending the groom home. It isn't every -Collins Street doctor who'd let his wife be seen with him in the -professional vehicle. Ted's a good fellow and a first-rate husband. We -have a lot to be thankful for, Polly." - -"We have," I assented, drawing a long breath of relief. For the moment I -was most thankful that my dear girl, whom I had so yearned for, was out -of sight. The coast was clear, and we sallied forth once more in pursuit -of our own devices. Being still not quite as hungry as Tom desired, we -strolled around the block and looked in at the shop windows--the -florists, the milliners, the photographers. - -"Do you remember," said Tom, as we gazed upon a galaxy of Melbourne -beauties smiling down upon the street, "how we had our likenesses taken -in our wedding clothes?" - -"And, oh, such clothes!" I interjected. "A flounced skirt over a -crinoline, a spoon bonnet----" - -"It was the image of you, my dear, and I wouldn't part with that picture -for the world. I say, let's go and be done now. I'd like a memento of -this day, to look at when the golden wedding comes. Just as you are, in -that nice tailor tweed--in your prime, Polly." - -I told him it was nonsense, but he would have it. The people said they -would be ready for us at 2.30, and when we had had an immense lunch, and -were both looking red and puffy after it, we were photographed together, -like any pair of cheap trippers--I sitting in an attitude, with my head -screwed round, he standing over me, with a hand on my shoulder. The -result may now be seen in a handsome frame on his smoking-room -mantelpiece; He thinks it beautiful. - -After the operation we had a cup of tea in the nearest restaurant, and -by that time it was too late to think of the Zoölogical Gardens, which -closed at five, and required a whole day to reveal all their treasures. -But we thought we might be in time to see the seals fed, and so took -tram again for the Exhibition building. As we entered the Aquarium -through the green gloom of the Fernery, we heard the creatures barking, -and saw the keeper walking towards the tanks with his basket of fish. We -were in good time, and there was no great crowd to-day, so that we could -stand close to the iron bars and see all the tricks of the man and the -beasts, which were unspeakably funny. I don't know when I have laughed -so much as I laughed that afternoon. And Tom was just as much amused as -I was. - -But when the last fish had been thrown and caught, and we sat down on a -bench to rest for a minute, he fell suddenly silent, and I thought he -appeared a little tired. - -"I know what it is," I said, looking at him. "You are just dying for a -pipe." - -"No," he answered; "at least, not particularly. But I'll tell you what I -do seem to long for, Polly, and that's a sight of blue water. Looking at -those creatures diving and splashing somehow reminds me of it. I haven't -seen the sea for months." - -"Oh, you poor boy!" I exclaimed, jumping up. "Why didn't you say so at -first--at the beginning of the day? I never once thought of it. Of -course we ought to have been beside the sea on our silver -wedding-day--the sea that married us in the beginning--or else on it. -Let us get down to Swanston Street at once, and take a St. Kilda tram. -There is time to reach the pier before the sun goes down, and we can -stay there till dark, and dine at the Esplanade. It will be a nice long -ride, and you can have your pipe on the dummy as we go." - -"All right," he said, with renewed alacrity. "Mind you, Polly, I -couldn't have enjoyed the day more than I have done, so far as it has -gone; but a sniff of brine to top up with will just make it perfect." - -So we had our sniff of brine. It took three-quarters of an hour to get -it, but the drive was delightful in the fresh evening air; the rain had -laid the dust of that dustiest of Melbourne roads, and C-spring -barouches are not easier to travel in than the cable tramcars on it. Tom -had the comfort of his pipe, allowable on the dummy; and the scent of -his good tobacco, which the breeze carried from me, was a scent I loved -for its associations' sake. When we got to St. Kilda the sun was low; no -effect of atmosphere and sea water could have been more lovely. It was -only bay water, to be sure, but it was salt, and it sufficed. We called -in at the hotel to order our dinner, and walked down and out to the end -of the pier, and sat there silently until the ruddy full moon rose. At -night, when all was white and shining, we returned there and sat for an -hour more, hand in hand. - -"What it must be," said Tom, soliloquising, "outside!" - -"Ah-h!" I sighed deeply. The same thought had been in both our minds all -through the silence which he had broken with his remark. If he had not -made it, I should have done so. In imagination we were "outside" -together, as in our youth; the scent of sea in the brisk air had acted -on us like the familiar touch of a mesmerist on a subject long -surrendered to his power; the nostalgia of the seafarer, the -sea-lover--which is a thing no other person can understand--had taken -hold of us; it was as if some long silent mother-voice called to us -across the bay, "Come home, come home!" - -Near us, sheltered in the angle of the pier, a bunch of sail boats -tugged gently at their ropes; the flopping, squelching sound made by the -run of the tide between and under them was sweet in our ears, like an -old song. A little way off some yachts of the local club lay each at its -own moorings, a hull and a bare pole, ink-black on the shining water. -Tom was no yachtsman, of course; he even had a contempt for the modern -egg-shell craft, all sail and spar, in which the young men out of the -shops and offices raced for cups on summer Saturdays; they were as -children's toys in his estimation. But a boat is a boat, and, feeling as -I did, and thinking of the remark he had made in the Aquarium, and how I -had unaccountably forgotten what we ought to have done on our silver -wedding-day, I said-- - -"Why shouldn't we have a silver honeymoon, and spend it at sea?" - -Though he did not answer at once, and though his face was turned from me -towards an incoming steamer, a distant streak of shadow sprinkled with -lights, that he was trying to identify, I knew that he jumped straight -at the suggestion with all his heart. - -"Hm-m," he mused; "ha-hm-m. That's not a bad idea of yours, Polly. I -daresay it might be done, if you think you'd like it. We have no -children to tie us at home--Harry would keep an eye on the pigs and -things--it would do us all the good in the world--by Jove, yes!" He sat -erect and alert. "Why, the very thought of it makes me feel twenty years -younger. I don't see why we shouldn't have a silver honeymoon while we -are about it. But what sort of a trip do you fancy? Portland and -Warrnambool? Tasmania? New Zealand? I'm afraid Europe is a bit too large -an order." - -"Nothing of that sort at all," I urged; "but something that we can do -all by ourselves, without being interfered with." I pointed to the boats -near us. "A yachting cruise to some of the places I have never seen, if -you could find a strong, homely sort of yacht, with bulwarks and a cabin -in it. Perhaps a hired man or two--yes, that would even give us greater -freedom--if there was a place for them to sleep in away from us." - -I enlarged upon my idea, while he listened and nodded, proposing -amendments here and there; then he jumped up in his resolute way, -lifting me with him. - -"Let us get home and to bed," said he, "and I'll be up first thing in -the morning to see about it. We must save this weather and the moon--the -honeymoon, Polly." - -We bustled back to town. And whom should we meet in the tram but an old -brother salt, who knew exactly what we wanted and where it was to be -had--a stout, yawl-rigged craft with something beside lead keel under -water, not too smart to look at, but able to travel, and warranted safe -"outside" as no ordinary pleasure yacht could be. One day sufficed to -stock this vessel with our requirements, and on the morning of the next -we set sail, with one quiet man for crew, and a minute dinghy behind us, -bound for no port in particular, and to no programme--determined to be -free for once, if we never were again. The children thought us quite -silly, naturally. I believe Harry felt it something of a hardship to -have to give up Emily's society occasionally for the sake of the pigs, -and I am sure, though I did not hear them, that Phyllis and Lily made -remarks on their poor dear mother's erratic fancies, and the way poor -father gave in to them. Phyllis took the opportunity of my absence to -"settle up the house," as she called it--meaning my house, and that -matters there had fallen into a sad state since she had ceased to -superintend them. - -But we were emancipated now. We were out of school. I was able to -wear--what they had considered inappropriate for years--a hat to keep -off the hot sea sunshine, which burns old faces as badly as young ones; -and I could fish, and paddle barefoot, and sing, and talk nonsense to -Tom to my heart's content, with no sense of appearing ridiculous or -undignified to anybody. The crew was an old Bendigo hand, about the age -of my father, devoted to us both; and Tom was like a boy again, with the -tiller in his hand. What ages it was since he had steered a sailing -boat, of any sort or size! Yet even I could tell the difference in a -moment, as soon as he took the helm. Not only did he make the yawl do -exactly what he wanted, but he seemed to know exactly what _she_ wanted -as well. It was the same sort of sympathy as that between a perfect -rider and a horse that thoroughly understands and trusts him. Some -people--good seamen in everything else--can never steer like that, -although they may have been a lifetime at it. It is an instinct, like -good riding, inherited and not acquired. Tom's people had been sailors -since the Battle of the Nile. - -How he _did_ love it, to be sure! And _what_ a holiday that was! We had -our little discomforts of various kinds, and I was seasick for a night -and seedy all the day afterwards; but these trifles were of no account -in the sum of our vast enjoyment, and cannot even be remembered now. -Looking back on that cruise--that last cruise--perhaps the very last in -life--it is one idyllic dream, simply. I find it hard to believe that it -could have happened in such a prosaic world. - -I daresay that much of the fairyland feeling was due to weather. There -is no weather on earth like Australian weather for making holiday -in--that is, when it is good. What fell to us on this memorable occasion -was as good as good could be--fine and fresh by day, calm and beautiful -by night, with various effects of moonlight, each sweeter than the rest. -The beginnings of the days were the best of them, perhaps. We went to -bed betimes--in that not too spacious chamber of ours between the big -and the little masts--and so were ready to see the sunrise, to bathe -ourselves in the clean, sharp, early morning air, to set about clearing -up the cabin, airing the mattresses on deck, frying the eggs and bacon -or newly caught fish, and cooking the coffee over the spirit stove, -before the land people were astir, every vein in our bodies thrilling to -the salt breeze, tingling with health, and our appetites keen as razors. -Later, we would visit the shore for provisions, for newspapers, for a -hotel meal, to send inquiring telegrams to our family and await replies, -to amuse ourselves with a ramble in the bush or through the bay -watering-places whose summer season had ebbed away from them. Later -still, I lay prone on deck, snoozing over a novel, while Tom and the -crew sailed the boat, and smoked, and talked shop in contented growls, a -couple of sentences at a time. Then tea, and washing up, and the fishing -lines got out; and the sweet twilight that, when it became darkness, was -too cold to sit in; and the lamp lit in the little -cabin--yawns--bed--the stirless sleep of nerves at peace and digestion -in perfect order. - -It was almost the same "outside" as in--not a cat's-paw squall molested -us. There was sea enough for good sea-sailing, but not enough to wet me -or my little house below--not till we got to Warrnambool, where, being -weather-bound for a day or two, we had the joy of seeing great breakers -again. They thundered on the rocky shore like cannons going off; they -flung foam over the breakwater; they would not let the Flinders come in. -We sat on a brown boulder a whole morning and a whole afternoon to look -at and listen to them, as one would listen to some archangel of a -Paderewski. - -Ah me, how happy we were! The second honeymoon, like the second -wedding-day, was miles better than the first. We married for love, if -two people ever did, not having fifty pounds between us, but my old -bridegroom was a truer lover than my young one. He said the same of his -old bride. We were like travellers that have climbed to a noble -mountain-top and sit down to rest and survey the arduous road by which -they came--all rosy in the bloom of sunset--and the poor things still -struggling up, not seeing what they head for. I never had such a rest in -my life before, and we had never, in all our twenty-five years of dear -companionship, been at such perfect peace together. There was only one -little cloud, and that passed in a moment. Tom said--it was a mere -thoughtless jest, for he did not mean to be unkind--that our divine -tranquillity was due to there being no person near for me to be jealous -of. I ought to have laughed at such an obviously absurd remark, but I am -dreadfully sensitive to anything like injustice, and was foolish enough -to feel hurt that he could say such a thing, even in fun. _I_ jealous! -I may have my faults--nobody is perfect in this world--but at least I -cannot be justly accused of condescending to petty ones of that sort. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -GRANDMAMMA. - - -"Good-morning, Grandmamma!" - -I was in my kitchen after breakfast, seeing about the dinner--calmly -slicing French beans, because it was Monday morning and Jane was helping -the washwoman--when I was suddenly accosted in this extraordinary way. -With a jump that might have caused me to cut my fingers, I turned my -head, and there in the doorway stood my son-in-law, Edmund Juke, panting -from his bicycle, and grinning idiotically, as if he had said something -very funny. By what he had said, and by the expression of his face, and -by seeing him miles away from his consulting-room at that hour of the -day, I knew, of course, what had happened. My heart was in my mouth. - -"What--what--you don't say--not really?" I gasped, scattering the beans, -cut and uncut, together about the floor as I sprang to meet him. "Why, -it isn't nearly time yet!" - -"Oh yes, it is," said he. "Everything is all right. The finest boy you -ever saw, and she doing as well as possible. I would not let any one but -myself bring you the good news, Mater dear"--and here he kissed me, more -affectionately than usual--"ill as I could spare the time. I knew you'd -be easier in your mind, too----" - -"But I am _not_ easy in my mind," I broke in, excessively concerned -about my child, and beginning to see that I had not been fairly treated -in the matter. "I am quite sure it is premature, whatever you may say. -Phyllis distinctly gave me to understand that it was a month off, at -least. Otherwise should I be here?" - -"It is an easy thing to make mistakes about, as you know. I can assure -you there is nothing wrong in any way. You must allow a medical -man--two medical men, for Errington attended her--to be the judge of -that," said he, with the airs a young doctor gives himself when he has -begun to make a name. - -I was indeed thankful to hear him say so, but still I could not quite -understand it. I wondered if it were possible--but no, it could not be! -The cruel suspicion having entered my mind, however, I felt obliged to -speak of it. - -"I am not to suppose, am I, that Phyllis _wished_ to deceive her own -mother--and on such a point?" - -Edmund at once replied, stormily, that I was certainly not to suppose -any such preposterous thing; but he protested over much, I thought, and -grew red in the face as he did so. I thought it not improbable that _he_ -had suggested my being put off the scent--he, who seemed to have known -just when the baby was to be expected; afterwards I was sure of it. My -own dear girl would have been incapable of such an idea. - -I asked Edmund the hour at which the event had taken place. He said at a -little before three that morning. It was now between nine and ten--as I -pointed out. He said they had all been glad of a little sleep after -their excitement, and that he had come as soon as he could get away. He -had also ridden at racing pace, averaging I don't know how many miles an -hour. No, the buggy would not have been quicker, even with a pair, and -he had wanted his wheel for refreshment and exercise. Of course he could -not take me back on it, but there was no hurry about that. He had left -Phyllis sleeping as soundly as a top, and the longer she was undisturbed -the better. - -"Certainly," I said, with rigid face and shaking heart. "And it is right -that I should be there to see that she is undisturbed. I ought to have -been there _hours_ ago, Edmund, and I can't _think_ why you did not send -for me--her own mother--the very _first_ person who should have been -informed." - -He began to make all sorts of lame excuses. - -"You see, Mater dear, the telegraph offices are not open on Sundays." - -"Was it Sunday? So long ago as yesterday? And where were the buggy and -the bicycle--not to speak of the trains?" - -"The buggy and the bicycle were there, but I had to send the groom -hunting for Errington, and of course I could not leave her myself. There -was not a soul to take a message to you, Mater dear. Besides, there was -no earthly use in giving you an upset for nothing. We soon saw that -everything was going on beautifully--otherwise, of _course_, you would -have been fetched at once--and so we thought you might as well be spared -all the worry--you would have worried frightfully, you know--and that we -would give you a pleasant surprise when it was all over. And now you -don't seem half grateful to us for being so thoughtful about you." - -He laughed at this poor joke. I could not laugh. My heart was too full. - -"Poor, poor, _poor_ girl!" I passionately exclaimed. "To face that trial -for the first time--terrified to death, naturally----" - -"Oh dear, no," he interposed, in his flippant way. "I am proud to inform -you that Phyllis conducted herself like a perfect lady. She was as calm -as possible." - -"How can you tell how calm she was?" I thundered at him. "You know -nothing about it, though you are a doctor. _I_ know--I know what she had -to go through! And no one near her to help her with a word of comfort, -except a hired person--one of your precious hospital nurses that are -mere iron-nerved machines--women who might as well be men for all the -feelings they've got!" - -"But she had--she had," cried Edmund, hastily. "She had my mother near -her--one of the kindest old souls that ever breathed." - -"_What?_" - -I stared at him, petrified with astonishment and indignation. _His_ -mother assisting at the confinement of _my_ daughter! And _I_ shut out! -I could not believe it for the moment--that they would deliberately put -such an insult upon me. - -Edmund said it was not done deliberately, but was a pure accident. "It -just happened," he said, "that she chanced to be in the house yesterday. -She came in after morning church, as she often does, and seeing that -something was up----" - -"What--as early as yesterday morning!" I burst out, thoroughly and -justifiably angry now, and not caring to hide it. "You mean to say -Phyllis was taken ill in the _morning_, Edmund, and you did not let me -know? Oh, this is too much!" - -Of course he hastened to excuse himself--with what I feel sure, though I -am sorry to say it, was a barefaced lie. He declared she was not taken -ill in the morning--not until quite late in the day--but that she was a -little restless and nervous, and his mother had stayed to cheer her. - -"Mother is such a bright, calm-minded, capable old body," he said--as if -I were a dull, hysterical fool--"and she has had such swarms upon -swarms of children, and such oceans of sick-nursing, and Phyllis is so -fond of her, and as you were not get-at-able, Mater dear----" - -Oh, it was sickening! I hadn't patience to listen to him, with his -"Mater dears" and his hypocritical pretences. I saw clearly that it had -been what Harry would call a put-up thing; he had preferred old Mrs. -Juke--a woman of no education, with a figure like a sack of flour tied -round the middle--to me. I suppose his friends had been twitting him -about the tyrannical mother-in-law, in the vulgar conventional way; or -he had been afraid that I would dispute his authority and orders in the -sick-room; or perhaps, to do him justice--he had thought nothing of an -affair which was in his daily experience, although it was his own wife -concerned. In any case, I was sure that Phyllis had not been to blame. -However fond she might be of Mrs. Juke--and probably she feigned -affection to some extent, for her husband's sake --it was her own -mother she would long for at such a time. And her mother she should -have, or I'd know the reason why. - -"It is not my fault that I was un-get-at-able yesterday," I said to -Edmund, quietly but firmly. "At any rate I am get-at-able now. I see you -are in a fidget to be after your patients--go, my dear, and tell her I -will be with her in an hour or two. Oh, I daresay there _is_ no -hurry--from your point of view; I am of a different opinion. I am a -woman--_and_ a mother; I understand these things. You don't--and never -could--not if you were fifty times a doctor." - -"All right," he returned cheerfully, or with assumed cheerfulness. "I am -sure she will be delighted to see you. Only we shall have to keep her -very quiet for the next few days--not let her talk and argue and excite -herself, you know----" - -I laughed--I could not help it--and waved him off. I told him to get -himself some beer, or whatever he fancied, and not to suppose that he -could teach me mother's duties at my time of life. And in a few minutes -he went flying back to town, and I sought my dear husband, where he was -busy digging in the vegetable garden, and flung myself weeping into his -grubby arms. - -Tom, too, was quite overcome. Not nearly so surprised as I expected him -to be, but tremulous in his agitation, and almost speechless at first. -For a tough old sailor as he is, he has the softest heart I know. - -"My little girl!" he murmured huskily, and cleared his throat again and -again. "And it was only the other day that she was a baby herself. Makes -us feel very ancient, don't it?" - -"_No_," I returned emphatically. "I don't feel ancient in the _very_ -least. And you, my dear, are in your prime. It is simply an absurdity -that we should be grandparents." - -"Well, it does seem rather ridiculous in your case," he rejoined--my -sweet old fellow!--"with your brown hair and bright eyes and figure -straight as a dart. But I----" - -"But you," I insisted, "are just as handsome as ever you were--worth a -dozen priggish little whipper-snappers like Edmund Juke." - -"Oh! What has Edmund Juke been doing?" - -"He let her be ill yesterday--_all_ yesterday--and never sent for me to -be with her!" I sobbed, feeling sure of sympathy here, if nowhere else. -"Did you ever know of a mother being treated so before?" - -But Tom--even Tom--was unsympathetic and disappointing. He did not -exclaim and protest on my behalf--did not seem to see how unnatural it -was, and what a slight had been put upon me--but just patted my shoulder -and stroked my hair, as if I were a mere fretful child. - -"If you ask me," he said, when I pressed him to speak his mind, "I must -say that I think they showed their sense, Polly. And it's a great relief -to me, my dear, on your account. You are so highly strung, pet, that you -can't stand things like other people. You'd have been worse than -Phyllis. Whereas a placid old Gamp like Mother Juke----" - -"_Tom!_" I broke in sharply. "_Who_ told you that Mother Juke was -there?" - -"Nobody," said he, with a disconcerted look. "I only thought it likely -that she might be. Was she not?" - -"She was. But I want to know why you concluded that she was, when I had -not mentioned the fact?" - -"I didn't conclude it. I only knew that she was keeping an eye on the -child, being so experienced, and living so handy." - -"How did you know?" - -"Ted told me--in a casual way--a good bit ago--I forget exactly -when----" - -"Tom----" - -But Tom pulled out his watch hastily, plainly anxious to avoid the -corner he felt himself being pushed into. - -"Look here, Polly, if you want to catch that train, and have to pack -your bag before you start, there's not a minute to lose. Now that she -knows you know, she'll be looking out for you--wanting to show her baby -to her mother, bless her little heart! And a fine boy too. I'm glad the -first is a boy--though I'm sure I don't know why I should be, for the -girls are far and away the best, to my thinking--girls that grow up to -be good and pretty women, treasures to the lucky men who get them--like -you." - -Silly fellow! But he means it all. There are no empty pretences about -Tom. To him there is one perfect being in the world, and that's his -wife. It comforted me to feel that I was appreciated in one quarter, -whatever I might be in others, and the mention of the baby made me -forget everything but my longing to have him in my arms. - -"I will go at once," I said, "and you must come too, dearest. You must -support me against the Juke faction. You must see that your child's -mother has her rights." - -"Oh, rights be blowed!" he replied, rather rudely. "There's nobody will -dream of disputing them. You don't know what a humble-minded, unselfish, -dear old soul that mother of Ted's is; she wouldn't deny the rights of -a sucking-pig--let alone an important person like you." - -"Your mind is always running on pigs," I laughed. "And I am sure that -old creature is just like a great sow fattened up for the Agricultural -Show. She grunts as she walks--if you can call it walking--and you -almost want bullocks to get her out of an armchair when she has once -sunk into it." - -"Well, that isn't her fault," Tom commented, grave as a judge. - -"Of course it isn't," I acquiesced. "She is getting into years now." - -"So are we all." - -"Yes. But she is fifteen years older than I am, if she's a day." - -"Fifteen years'll fly over _us_ before we know it, Polly. And then _you_ -won't like to be crowed over, I'll bet." - -"Who's crowing? I merely state a fact. She is." - -"Then all the more reason why you should be grateful to her." - -"Grateful to her for usurping my rights----" - -"Nonsense!" - -He had one of his short moods on him, when it is better not to argue -with him. Besides, there was no time for argument. He led the way to the -house, pulling down his shirt-sleeves. He said he would have a wash and -put on his coat and take me to Phyllis's house, and see the baby if -allowed to do so; but he would not promise to stay more than a few -minutes. He did not want, he said, to put them about, when already they -had so much to attend to. Talk of humble-mindedness! His -humble-mindedness makes me want to shake him sometimes. Off the sea he -seemed to forget that he was a commander--a character that Nature -intended him to maintain, wherever he was. One had but to look at him to -see that. - -I had to make so many preparations for his comfort and for the proper -safeguarding of Lily in my absence, which I supposed likely to run into -a week or two, that it was noon before I could be ready to set forth. -So I yielded to Tom's suggestion that we should have our usual one -o'clock dinner before starting, and drive ourselves to town in the -afternoon. He wanted to take in the buggy for stores. He could see me -"comfortably settled," he said, and do his necessary business at the -same time. - -Alas! How little we anticipated the circumstances of the return journey! -No one could have been happier than I, as I sat beside him behind our -fast-trotting Parson--we called him Parson because of his peculiar -rusty-black colour and a white mark on his chest--talking of the -grandchild we were going to see, and all the family affairs involved in -his arrival. It never crossed our minds for a moment that he was -bringing, not peace, but a sword. - -In our excess of considerateness we drove to livery stables, and there -put up our trap; then we walked quietly to Phyllis's house, and Tom -slunk away somewhere, like a rat into a hole, as soon as we were -admitted. His anxiety to be "out of the road" was really undignified. -Of course I made straight for my daughter's room. - -The large dining-room was full of waiting patients; I counted three -women and a child as I passed up the hall. Whatever Edmund's faults, he -is one of the cleverest and most sought after doctors in Melbourne. I -have heard Mary Welshman and others boasting about Fitzherbert, and -Groom, and Sewell, and the rest, but not one of them is to be named in -the same day with my son-in-law. Phyllis was obliged to use a little -room on the first floor for meals, on account of the lower part of the -house being so overrun; and the poor parlourmaid spent her entire time -in answering the door. - -Creeping upstairs, with my noiseless, sick-room step, I met old Mother -Juke, as Tom calls her, lumping down, with the gait of a rheumatic -elephant. She seemed to shake the very street. How my poor child could -stand such a woman about her, at such a time, I could not imagine; it -would have driven me into a fever. Of course she is kind and -well-meaning enough--she can't help her age and her physical -infirmities--I know that. And it is quite true that she has been a great -nurse in her day. But her day is past. - -"Good-morning, Mrs. Juke," I said pleasantly, as we met and paused on a -little landing at the turn of the stairs, "you are here early." - -Scarcely had I opened my mouth when the mountain fell on me, as it were; -the old thing put her huge arms about my neck and kissed me. I have -always objected to being slobbered over by comparative strangers, and I -did not return the kiss; nevertheless I treated her with the courtesy -that I felt due to my son-in-law's mother. - -"And so," I said, smiling, "you have all been conspiring together to -steal a march on me! You have been jumping my claim, as the miners -say--defrauding a poor woman of her natural rights." - -"Nothing of the sort, my dear," she replied, in her fat voice--and if -there is one thing that I dislike more than another is to be -"my-deared" in this promiscuous fashion. "You were best out of it, with -your feeling heart. It would only have upset you, my dear, and that -would have upset her; and then Ted would have been in a way, and Captain -Braye would have blamed us. I am sure _he_ is grateful, if nobody else -is." - -"He is nothing of the sort," I cried, flaming. "My husband is perfectly -astounded at the way I have been shut out. He never heard of such a -thing as a mother being set aside at such a time." - -She was at a loss for an answer to this, so fell back upon praises of -the baby and of Phyllis's satisfactory condition. There was nothing, she -said, that could give me the faintest cause for uneasiness, nor had been -from the first--nor would be, provided she were kept quiet and free from -all excitement. And we ought to be humbly thankful that this was so--to -feel nothing but joy that she had done so excellently, and that the -child was so strong and beautiful. - -"That is all very well," I remarked. "But that is not the point. What I -want to know is--and I intend to have an answer--whose doing it was that -I was not sent for yesterday morning?--that I was kept in utter -ignorance of the most important event that has ever occurred in my -family--when, for all you people did to prevent it, my daughter might -have died without my seeing her again!" - -We were now in the little first-floor sitting-room, just off the stairs. -It was between three and four, and the luncheon things were not cleared -away. Indeed the house seemed completely disorganised, having no one to -look after it. Old Mrs. Juke, who did not seem to notice this, stood -just within the door, puffing like a porpoise, and trying to look -dignified, which was quite impossible. - -"I am very sorry you take it in this way," she said, in a hoity-toity -tone. "We may have made a mistake, but, if we did, we made it with the -best intentions. All we thought of was to save you useless pain. We -knew your nervous, anxious temperament, and how keenly you feel anything -affecting your children; and so we decided----" - -"It was not a matter for you to decide," I broke in, with natural -asperity. "I am neither a baby nor an idiot. I have at least as much -sense as any one in this house--I should be sorry for myself, indeed, if -I had not--and I prefer to attend to my own business, if it's all the -same to you. Whether I should be here, or whether I should not, was for -_me_ to say--for me and for my daughter. She, I am very certain, had no -part in shutting me out; and she ought to have been considered, if I was -not." - -"It was she," said Mrs. Juke, "who wished it most. Her one desire was to -spare you." - -"I don't believe it." - -"I am sorry if you don't believe it." The old thing shook like -blancmange in hot weather. "I can only say that it is perfectly true." - -"I will ask her if it is true--that she wished to have strangers with -her in place of her own mother." - -I started to cross the landing to Phyllis's room, and my teeth were set, -and my heart was thumping with an emotion that I could scarcely -control--but I need not say I did control it. Mrs. Juke hung on to me to -stop me, pleading that Phyllis and the baby were fast asleep together, -and must not be disturbed; and I asked her how she, who had been a -mother fifteen times, could insult a mother by supposing that she would -be less careful of a sick child than anybody else. If I had gone in -alone I am sure she would not have heard me--Tom says that I walk about -the house as if shod with feathers--but Mrs. Juke would come too, and -there was no hushing that solid tread. I saw my darling start up from -the pillow, frightened out of her sleep by the noise, and the flush come -into her cheeks. And Mrs. Juke cried "There!" reproachfully, as if it -had been my fault. - -At the same moment another stranger came out of Edmund's dressing-room, -and turned upon me like a perfect fury. - -"I must ask you, madam, to be so good as to be quiet," she said. "The -doctor's orders are----" - -But I did not wait to be told by her what the doctor's orders were; I -simply took her by the shoulders, ran her back into the dressing-room, -and locked the door upon her. If Edmund's mother liked to be rude to me, -she could, but I was not going to take impudence from a hospital nurse. -I cannot understand the passion young doctors have for those conceited, -overbearing women. This creature was not even married. What, I wonder, -would _my_ mother have thought of a single woman attending a lady in her -confinement? I call it scandalous. - -When I had got rid of her, I requested Mrs. Juke to retire also, which -she did. I apologised to her if I had said anything that seemed -discourteous in the heat of the moment, for there was a watery look -about her eyes as if she were feeling rather hurt; and I said to her in -a gentle way, that, if she would only for one instant imagine herself in -my place, she could not help admitting that I was more than justified. I -suggested that it would be a kindness to us if she would see what the -servants were about, judging from appearances, they were entirely -neglecting their duties. I mentioned the state of the lunch-table, and -Phyllis broke in to explain that Ted had begun work so late that he had -not yet found time to come up for anything to eat. - -"Never you mind," I said to her, soothing her. "_You_ are not to trouble -your little head about these matters. I am here, darling, and you can -rest from all housekeeping worries now." - -And so at last I had my treasure to myself. She was very fluttery, and -cried a little--which I did not wonder at--but soon composed herself, -and proudly displayed the little one cuddled to her dear breast under -the bedclothes. He was a lovely baby (and at this time of writing is the -most beautiful boy you ever saw--the image of me, Tom says); and I -felt, when I took him into my arms, as if my own happy young mother-days -had come over again. - -"Now, Phyllis dear," I said to her, as I laid him back into his nest, "I -don't want to bother or disturb you in the slightest degree, but I _do_ -want to know whether it was your wish, as Mrs. Juke declares it was----" - -However, before I could get the question out, or she could answer, the -door opened; and there stood the nurse, looking at me with her nasty, -hard eyes, as if I were some venomous reptile; and Errington was behind -her. She had actually been to fetch him--he lived almost next door--in -her rage with me for having had the firmness to keep her in her place. -He was one of these modern young doctors who swear by the new ways, and -of course he believed her tales and took her part against me. - -"Mrs. Braye," he began, trying to be very professional and superior, "I -must beg of you to leave my patient's room. The nurse has my orders not -to allow her to talk or to be agitated in any way. I do not wish her to -see people at present." - -"I will take care," I answered, with dignity, "that she does not see -people." - -"Excuse me--she is seeing people now." - -"I suppose you are not aware," I said, very quietly, "that I am your -patient's mother? It seems to be taken for granted in this house that -such a person does not exist." - -"I am aware of it," he was good enough to admit; "I recognise the fact, -Mrs. Braye, and sympathise with your feelings, believe me. But, if you -will allow me to say so, you are so excitable--you have such a quick, -nervous temperament----" - -"And who has dared to discuss my temperament with you?" I demanded -furiously--for this was the last straw--an utter stranger, a boy young -enough to have been my son! "Where is Dr. Juke? I will ask _him_ to -explain. Mrs. Juke"--she was lurking in the passage outside--"will you -be kind enough to send Edmund to me? After all, he is the medical -authority here." - -Edmund came hurrying up, and I never saw a man look so much like a -whipped dog. He had not the courage of a mouse in the presence of his -colleague. He spread out his hands with a helpless air--said we were all -under Errington's orders, and that he no longer had a say in -anything--in short, left me undefended to be a laughing-stock to those -people. - -I flew downstairs to find Tom, whom I had left in a little office behind -the consulting-room, waiting until I summoned him to see the baby. I -knew what he would think of the way I was being treated, and how he -would vindicate and uphold me. But here I was again frustrated. The -aroma of his strong tobacco was in the air; the ashes from his pipe were -still hot in the tray; but he had vanished. Rushing back into the hall, -I collided with that pert little parlourmaid who answers the door. She -had come to tell me, she said, with an ill-disguised smirk, that Captain -Braye had gone to do some business in the town and would return in the -course of an hour or two. She must have seen that something was the -matter, but she was just as callous as the rest of them. - -I said "Very well," as cheerfully as I could, and sought the only refuge -I knew of--the drawing-room on the first floor. It was dark with drawn -blinds and the tree ferns on the balcony, but not so dark that I could -not see the thick dust on everything; and there were flowers in the -vases that literally stank with decay and the bad water their stalks -were rotting in. Feeling sure that I was safe in this deserted and -neglected place, I closed the door behind me, sank upon a sofa, took out -my pocket-handkerchief, and had a good cry. Any mother, hurt to the -heart as I had been, would have done the same. - -And while I was in the middle of it I heard a gentle creak, and the -rustle of a soft gown, and a step like velvet on the carpet--Edmund -would have a Brussels carpet, instead of the polished boards and rugs -that I advised. Looking up, alarmed and ashamed, whom should I see but -dear little Emily Blount, with her kind, sweet face, full of the love -and sympathy that I was so much in need of. I had always known that she -was one in a thousand, but never had I felt so thankful that my Harry -had made so wise a choice. She had stolen away from her school to hear -how Phyllis was, and, instead of pushing in where she was not wanted, -had crept like a mouse to the empty drawing-room, to wait there until -she could intercept somebody going up or down the stairs. What an -example of good feeling, of good manners, of good breeding and good -taste! I held out my arms to her, and she ran to them, and kissed and -hugged me, crying out to know what was the matter, in the utmost -concern. - -Well, I told her what was the matter--I told her everything; I had to -relieve my overcharged feelings in some way, and, Tom being absent, I -could not have found a truer sympathiser. Words cannot express the -comfort it was to me to know that she would be my real daughter some -day. - -"Emmie," I said to her, as she sat beside me with her arm round my -waist, "promise me that, when _you_ have a baby, you will send for me to -be with you--and send for me _in time._" - -She blushed perfectly scarlet--which was silly of her, being a B.A., and -of course not like the ordinary ignorant bread-and-butter miss--but she -laid her little face into my neck in the most tender, confiding way. - -"It is what I should wish," she whispered, "if only my own dear mother -would not think----" - -"Your own mother," I broke in, "has only had you, and I have had four -children. I know much more of those matters than she does, and _you_ -know from experience, having been in the house all through Harry's -illness, what a good nurse I am." I had seen Mrs. Blount once or -twice--a sharp little fidgety woman, who would get dreadfully on the -nerves of an invalid who was at all sensitive. "Besides," I added, "own -mothers as a rule are a mistake on these occasions. They are -over-anxious, and the personal interest is too strong." - -"Oh, I think so--I do think so," she said, agreeing with me at once. "It -is too hard upon them both, unless they are cold-hearted creatures. And -I would much, much rather have you, dearest Mrs. Braye, if I am ever so -happy--so fortunate----" - -"As you will be," I broke in, warmly embracing her. "I am going to talk -to Harry about that little house which he has fallen in love with. I -don't believe in young people wasting the best years of their lives in -waiting for each other." - -We had a nice talk, and I told her how well Phyllis was doing--wonderful -as it was, when one considered the mismanagement that prevailed--and -described the beauty of the baby. Emily said she was satisfied, having -such a report on my authority, and stole away as she had come, with no -noise or fuss. I wanted her to stay with me until Tom returned, but she -pleaded her duties, and I am not the one to dissuade in such a case. -When she was gone I sat alone for a few minutes, calmed and braced, -thinking what I should do; then I heard a step, and Edmund came in. - -"Oh, _here_ you are!" he exclaimed, with forced hilarity. "I've been -hunting for you everywhere. Look here, Mater dear, I'm so awfully -sorry----" - -But I was prepared for these counterfeit apologies, which had no sorrow -in them. I cut him short by inquiring mildly whether Captain Braye was -in the house. - -"Not yet--he's not back yet--he will be soon. But look here, Mrs. Braye, -honestly, I wouldn't have had it happen for a thousand pounds." - -"Then may I ask you, Edmund, kindly to have my portmanteau sent to the -stables? I will join my husband there." - -"No, no," he urged, in a great fluster. "You are not going to leave us. -We sha'n't let you. Your portmanteau is gone to the spare room. You will -stay with Phyllis and the baby, and my mother will go. She is putting -her things on now." - -"Then go and stop her _instantly_," I cried. "What! Do you suppose I -want her to be slighted and humiliated because I am? Do you want to set -it about everywhere that I turned your mother out of her own son's -house? I have no place here, Edmund--I had forgotten it for the moment, -but I shall not forget it again; she has. Go at once and tell her that, -if she doesn't stay, Phyllis will have no one." - -"And why can't you both stay?" he demanded foolishly. - -"My dear boy," I laughed, "if you think that possible, after what I have -just experienced, you must have a very queer opinion of me. I am not -proud, nor prone to take offence, but one must draw the line somewhere. -Two perfect strangers have turned me out of my daughter's room and -insulted me before my daughter's face, apparently with your approval. I -wonder what the captain will think when he hears of it? It will rather -astonish him, I fancy. Even if I consented to expose myself to further -treatment of the kind, I am quite sure he would not. But I am not the -person to force myself where I am not wanted, Edmund; you ought to know -that by this time." - -And yet I pined to stay. And when he pleaded that they had all done for -the best, according to their lights, and tried to persuade me that the -entire household, including Phyllis, was overwhelmed with grief because -I was offended, I wondered whether I could, with any justice to myself -and Tom, pocket the indignities that I had received. I said to my -son-in-law-- - -"Let us understand each other. When you ask me to remain, do you -contemplate keeping on that nurse who was so insolent to me?" - -"Oh," said he, "I don't think she meant to be insolent. She's a -first-class nurse. Very strict ideas about duty, but that's a fault on -the right side, isn't it? Errington got her for us, and as he's -attending Phyllis----" - -"He would still go on attending Phyllis, I suppose?" - -"Oh, I suppose so. Why not?" - -"No reason why not, of course, if you wish it. Only you can hardly blame -me if I prefer not to meet either of them again. Good-bye, Edmund. I -have a little shopping to do. And I hope," I burst out, breaking from -him and running down the stairs, "I hope that when your children grow -up, they won't cast you off in your old age as mine have done." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -VINDICATED. - - -Naturally, I did not see much of the Juke household after the affair of -the baby's birth. There is nothing so sad, and so disgraceful to the -parties concerned, as discord in families; but this was no vulgar -quarrel, although several officious busybodies regarded it as such. I -merely took the very broad hint that my son-in-law and his mother had -given me, to the effect that Phyllis by her marriage had passed into -their possession and no more belonged to me. Moreover, one must have -_some_ self-respect, as I represented to Tom, who either could not or -would not recognise the facts of the case, remaining stupidly impervious -to arguments that would have convinced a child; and a proper sense of -dignity is an element of good breeding which I have inherited with my -blood--fortunately or otherwise, as the case may be. - -But I was just as anxious, and even more so, to be assured that all was -well. _My_ feelings towards my own kith and kin can know no change. -Therefore I sent Tom to Melbourne every morning to make inquiries. -Perhaps he would have gone in any case, for his own satisfaction, but he -was not the messenger I should have chosen had there been a choice. -Unfortunately, he was the only one available. Without, I am sure, -meaning to be disloyal to me, he would stay there half the day, smoke -with Edmund, lunch with Mrs. Juke, pay Phyllis visits in her room, and -generally allow himself to be cajoled into forgetting the actual state -of things--making me cheap as well as himself, and putting me into a -most false and ignominious position. And then he would come back laden -with "best loves" and "when was I coming to see them again?" and "Baby -was wondering what he had done to be deserted by his dear grandmamma," -and rubbish of that sort, which any one but he must have seen was -simply insulting under the circumstances, and which sometimes drove me -wild. His weak amiability, in season and out of season, and his habit of -taking everybody to be as goodnatured as himself, made him incapable of -perceiving that a gross outrage had been committed, for which formal -apologies were due. I argued the matter with him for hours at a time, -and had my labour for my pains; he would never positively admit that I -was right, simply because he could not understand the point of view. The -silence that gives consent was the most I got, and I was not satisfied -with that--from him. And so we fell out rather frequently--we, who had -never had a disagreement in our lives--and I was very unhappy. - -Nevertheless, I was not going to set foot in Edmund Juke's house until -proper reparation had been made. It was not for a woman of my years and -standing to bow down to a boy and girl and an ignorant old person, who, -I believe, began life in a baker's shop, or some such place. An apology -I intended to have before I would receive them back to favour. - -And they did not apologise. It seems to me a petty sort of thing not to -frankly own it when one is in the wrong, but very few people are -large-minded enough to apprehend the difference between false pride and -true. As a rule, they think it derogatory to dignity--a "come-down" so -to speak--to confess to being human and therefore liable to error; -whereas you cannot have a better proof of moral superiority. Edmund and -Phyllis were no exceptions to this rule. They would do anything short of -the one thing they should have done. When the time came for the baby to -be baptized, they wrote a joint letter, couched in extravagantly -affectionate terms, asking me to be his godmother. It was the dearest -wish of their hearts, they would have me believe; and yet--not a word of -regret for what they had made me suffer! - -I saw through it at once. They were merely throwing a sop to Cerberus, -as it were, expecting that the little compliment would pacify -me--treating me as a cross child to be appeased with lollipops. Tom was -angry when I expressed my views; he said--what I am sure he was very -sorry for afterwards--that I was "the most perverse woman that ever -walked;" and it really seemed at one time as if this miserable affair -was destined to wreck the happiness of a marriage which for more than a -quarter of a century had been the most perfect in the world. I had never -imagined it possible that _my_ husband could be morose and rude--and to -me, of all people! - -I answered the letter the same day. I said I was much obliged to Edmund -and Phyllis for their kind invitation, but I considered I was too old to -stand sponsor to the baby, who should have some one likely to be of use -to him through life. I did not suggest Mrs. Juke as a substitute; I did -not even mention her, nor refer to my grievances; I wrote temperately -and courteously, though not gushingly, and I fully expected that my note -would bring forth another, urging me to reconsider the matter, and -assuring me that I was not too old for anything--as of course I am not. -Instead of this, they affected to be huffy, made no rejoinder, and took -no further notice of me. So my feelings can be imagined when Lily calmly -informed me that _she_ was to be the baby's godmother. I was keeping the -child closely at home, engaged with her studies; I had put a stop to the -Melbourne visits, because I do not believe in town life for a girl so -young, and it was just as easy and very little more expensive to have -her masters come out to give her lessons; therefore I could not imagine -how she had been, as Harry would have said, "got at." - -"Oh, are you?" I ejaculated, dissembling my surprise, "and, pray, who -says so?" - -"Father," she replied. "Ted spoke to father, and he said I might. And -they want father to be godfather--Mr. Stephen Juke and either father or -Harry--and Harry says his conscience is against something or other in -the baptismal service--and so is Emily's--and that's why they chose me. -And oh, mother, I must! I MUST!" - -She said it as if it were "I will," and with that mulish look which I -knew of old, and which meant that she would fight to the death to get -her own way, no matter whose feelings might be trampled on. I did not -stay to argue with her, but flew down the garden to find Tom. He was -pitchforking clean straw into the pigsties, and when he saw me, stood -and leaned on the fork handle with an exaggerated air of resignation. -"Well, and what's the matter now?" was expressed in his face and -attitude, though he did not speak. - -"Tom," I demanded, as I paused before him--I will not deny that I was -boiling over "Tom, are you going to be godfather to the Jukes' baby?" - -"I don't know, Polly," he said evasively. "Nothing is settled yet." - -"If you do," I declared with passion, "I will never speak to you again." - -Of _course_ I did not mean that, but he took it as if I had said -something horrible. Never did I expect to see my husband look at me as -he looked then, or to hear him speak to me in a tone so cold and cruel, -or call me names as if he were a common costermonger instead of the -gentleman I had always found him. - -"Polly," he said, "because you are behaving like a maniac, am I to do so -too?--to turn against my daughter for nothing at all--my dear, good -child, who never grieved me in her life--and at this time of all times, -when her little heart is full----" - -I could bear no more. I burst into tears. I believe the boy was digging -potatoes not twenty yards away, but I did not care; in the middle of -Collins Street I must have done the same. To be misunderstood by the -whole world was a trifle indeed, but to be misunderstood by _him_ an -insupportable calamity. - -It was but for a moment, after all. No sooner did he see my tears than -he flung away his fork, hurried me behind a shed, and took me into his -arms to comfort me, as he had always done. All piggy as he was, I threw -mine around his neck, forgiving him everything for the sake of his -constant love. - -"There, there," he crooned, "don't cry, pet. What a baby it is, after -all! You know as well as I do that you are just cutting off your nose to -spite your face--now don't you, sweetheart?" - -"Oh, Tom," I wailed, "if you would _only_ understand!" - -"Well, I do," he assured me, ruffling my hair with his grubby paw. "I -know all about it, little woman. And I'm ready to do anything in the -world to please you. I always am." - -"Then you won't stand godfather to that child--without me?" - -"Suppose we both stand together? We've done everything together so far." - -"I can't. I have refused." - -"Then write and say you have changed your mind." - -"It's too late. And they don't want me to change it, Tom--they don't -indeed; they only asked me out of politeness; they did not press me the -least little bit. I am sure they were delighted when I declined. They -had calculated upon it." - -"Pooh! That's your imagination." - -"It is _not_. What, are you going to accuse me of not speaking the -truth?" - -"No, no, my dear; but sometimes--well, never mind; we are all liable to -make mistakes. And when I think of the letter they wrote, asking -you--and I'm sure they meant it----" - -"They could not have meant it, because when I only half declined--I left -it open to them to ask again--they would not take the hint. Oh, they -don't want me for anything now, and I would die sooner than ever force -myself on them again!" - -Tom inquired, in a grave tone, what I had said in my letter--what reason -I had given for declining, or half-declining, in the first instance; and -I told him. - -"And, dear," I urged, "if I am too old--and they accepted that as a -valid excuse--what are you?" - -"Hm-m," he mused. "I never thought of that. Harry's the man--not me--if -there's anything in being godfather beyond the name. Only Harry jibs at -saying 'I will' and 'all this I steadfastly believe'--as if it were for -a young donkey like him to criticise the Prayer Book that's been good -enough for generations of us. That boy's head is full of maggots. So's -Emily's." - -"I beg," said I, "that you will not say a word against Emily, nor Harry -either. They are perfectly right. I think their loyalty beautiful." - -"To whom?" asked Tom. - -"To me," I said. "Was it likely they would stand sponsors to the baby -over my head? No, they love me too well to countenance anything that -would humiliate me. And Tom, my dear, I think it downright tyranny to -keep those two dear children hanging on as they are doing, wasting their -best years. You forget that I was barely twenty when you married me." - -"Barely twenty-two," he corrected. - -"And Emily is twenty-three. You might remember what it was to _us_ to -get each other and our little home--how _we_ should have felt if cruel -fathers had kept us out of it!" - -"Well, I never thought to hear myself called a cruel father," laughed -Tom, taking everything literally, as usual. "And as for Hal and -Emily--why, you yourself----" - -"I did nothing of the sort," I broke in--for I knew what he was going to -say--"and I have always advocated early marriages, because our own was -so successful. Now, Tom, when we have settled the affair of the -christening--but we must do that first----" - -"And how's it to be done?" he sighed, heavily. "Good God! I've been -true-blue Church and State all my life, but I'm hanged if I don't wish -there were no such things as christenings!" - -I am sure I heartily agreed with him. - -And after all he had his wish, as far as our baby was concerned. That -christening was postponed indefinitely. I heard that Edmund had said, -with a man's obtuseness to the logic of the case, that it was better the -child should remain a technical sinner than that all its relations -should become real ones. I was greatly surprised at the decision, but if -they chose to make the poor infant suffer for their faults, it was no -concern of mine. Mary Welshman and her husband wanted to make out that -it was--this, however, was merely a bit of revenge for some strictures I -had passed upon that disreputable brother of hers--and they took upon -themselves to such an extent that I resigned my sitting in the church -and stopped all my subscriptions. Welshman said that if baby died -unbaptized and unregenerate, his eternal damnation would lie at my -door--or something to that effect. I was not going to sit under a -clergyman who presumed to behave to me in that way. - -And so, thanks to all this meddling and muddling, the miserable affair -ended in a complete estrangement between my daughter and me. She never -came out to see us, as she had been used to do, and of course I did not -go to see her without being asked. I would not let Lily go either, to -have her taught to be disrespectful to her mother; and the child--too -young to know what was for her good--tried me sorely with her rebellious -spirit. She was worse than rebellious--she was disobedient and -deceitful; I found that she met her sister secretly when my back was -turned, and that she knew when little Eddie cut his first tooth, and -when he was short-coated, though I did not. Tom was mopey and grumpy, -almost sulky sometimes--so changed that I hardly knew him for my -sunny-tempered mate; he seemed all at once to be turning into an old -man. And I, though I tried to fight against it, had a perpetual ache in -my heart, and was tempted sometimes to wish that I was dead, so that I -might be loved once more. - -What I should have done without Emily I don't know. Tom gave me -permission to make certain arrangements which would enable her and Harry -to marry and settle, and the excitement and occupation which this -entailed just kept me, I think, from going out of my mind with -melancholy. As it was near the midwinter vacation, I insisted on the -dear girl giving up her school at the end of term; and we fixed a day in -August for the wedding, so as to have the cream of springtime for the -honeymoon. Emily's father--a perfect gentleman---was a cripple, earning -but a small income by law-writing at home, and their house in Richmond -was cramped and close; for health's sake I made her spend part of the -holidays with me, and really it was like the happy old times over again -to see her sweet, bright face about the house. Her companionship was -most beneficial to Lily, too; the child recovered all her amiability, -and was as good as gold. Tom quite brightened up, laughing and joking, -like his old self; and we had Harry rushing out upon his bicycle -directly his office closed, and staying to sleep night after night, so -as to get long evenings with his betrothed. I never saw a pair of lovers -behave with better taste. Instead of hiding themselves in an empty room -for hours, they would play a rubber of whist with the old folks, and -Emily would sing our favourite songs to us, and duets with Lily; and -Harry was like a big boy again with his "Mummie" and his "Mater" and his -many pranks. It was delicious to wake in the night and think of him back -in the family nest--to picture him as he had looked when I went in to -tuck him up, turning his handsome head to kiss his mother. It was a good -time altogether--except for the one thing; _that_ spoiled all--for me, -at any rate, if not for the others. - -Every day, and nearly all day long, Emily and I busied ourselves -preparing the new house. The dears had wished to live in our -neighbourhood, like the devoted children that they were, and had fallen -in love with a sweet little villa of half a dozen rooms, in a neat, -small garden, which was the ideal home for a bride and bridegroom of -large refinement and small means. It was a Boom property going cheap, -and Tom and I stretched a point to buy it outright and make them a -present of it; so that I could look forward to having my dear -daughter-in-law near me for many years to come. Such proximity might -have been inconvenient in the case of another person, but I had no fear -of the old prejudice against mothers-in-law operating here. - -The drawing-room, furnished entirely to my own design, was a picture. We -had the floor stained and rugs spread about; as Emily said, that was one -of the charms of living out of streets, which, however well-watered, -continually covered your things with dust, as if the house had pores to -take it in by. In town, if you want polished surfaces, you must simply -live with a duster in your hand. Then we papered the walls yellow and -painted the woodwork cream; and we made delightful chintz curtains and -covers for inexpensive furniture, and got a handy carpenter to carry out -our ideas for overmantel and bookcases, and used I don't know how many -tins of Aspinall. Without going into further particulars, I may say that -it was the prettiest little home that can be imagined when all was done. -Emily was only too pleased to leave everything to my taste and judgment, -and I cannot remember ever having a job that I enjoyed more thoroughly. - -Then she had to go back to her mother to get her clothes ready. And, -because I could not do without her altogether, I often joined her in -town and had an hour's shopping or sewing with her. I accompanied her, -of course, when she went to choose the wedding-gown--a walking costume -of cloth and silk that would be useful to her afterwards--and on the -following day I kept an appointment we had made to interview a -dressmaker. - -For the first time, she was not waiting for me. Her mother met me -instead--a nice, superior sort of woman, quite different from Mrs. -Juke--but a little inclined to be offhand, even with me. I also detected -in her manner a trace of that jealous spirit which above all things I -abhor, especially in mothers, whose natural instinct it is to sacrifice -and efface themselves for their children's good. - -"Emily is out," she said. "You can't have her. You'll have to do as I -mostly have to do--attend to your business alone." - -"But it is her business I am going to attend to--not my own," I said; -"and I cannot possibly do it without her. It is entirely for her -pleasure and convenience that I have come in to-day, Mrs. Blount, and -she faithfully promised to be ready for me at three." - -"Well, you see, sickness is not like anything else--it's got to come -first. It's not an hour since she was sent for, and there was no way of -getting a message to you. She told me to give you her love, and say how -sorry she was." - -"Will she be long, do you think?" - -"I couldn't say; but she took her nightgown with her." - -"Oh! Then I may as well go home at once. And when she wants me again, -she can send me word." I was inclined to be annoyed with Emily for -running me about for nothing, but--providentially--it occurred to me to -inquire what her errand was. - -"It's the child," said Mrs. Blount, "that's not very well." - -"What child?" - -"The little Juke baby. He has only a cold, his mother thinks, but, as -the doctor is away just now, she's nervous about him. So she sent for -Emily." - -"For _Emily!_" My heart swelled. I cannot describe the feeling that came -over me. Mrs. Blount stared at me in an odd way, and I have no doubt had -cause to do so; I must have stared at her like a daft creature. Neither -of us spoke another word. I just turned and ran out of the house, ran -all the way to the tram road, ran after a tram that had already passed -the end of the street, and in a quarter of an hour was jumping from the -dummy of another opposite my darling daughter's door. No doubt my fellow -travellers smiled to see a matron of my years conducting herself in that -manner, but I cast dignity to the winds. A new maid who did not know me -answered my sharp pull at the house bell, and told me Mrs. Juke was not -at home to visitors. - -"How is the baby?" I gasped out, trembling in every limb. - -"We have just sent for Dr. Errington," she replied. And then I rushed -past her and upstairs to Phyllis's room. - -As soon as I opened the door, and heard the sound in the air, I -recognised croup. It reminded me of times, in years gone by, when I had -wakened in the night and wondered for a moment what the extraordinary -noise was that pulsed through the house like the snoring of a wild -animal, and then leaped from my bed in agony as if a sword had gone -through me. I could see my own child's face, swollen and dark with -threatened suffocation, looking to her mother for help with those -beseeching eyes: just in the same way they looked at me now, only now -the mother-anguish was wringing _her_ poor heart. She was walking up and -down the floor distractedly, with the baby in her arms--he had grown a -huge fellow, and weighed her down; and Emily was wildly turning the -leaves of a great medical book of Edmund's, blind with tears. Dear, -loving, futile creatures! It was more than I could bear to see them, and -to hear my Phyllis cry, "Mother! Mother! Oh, mother, tell us what to -do!" - -In one moment my cloak was on the floor and the babe was in my arms. He -struggled to cry, but could not get the sound out--only the brazen crow, -and harsh, strangled breath, which, I was informed, were symptoms of a -crisis which had only just appeared, attacking him in his sleep--and -Phyllis, when she had given him to me, clasped and unclasped her hands, -wrung them, and moaned as if some one were killing her. - -"Ipecacuanha wine!" I shouted. "Run Emily! Run over to the chemist's and -get it fresh--it must be fresh--and don't lose an instant! Hot water, -Phyllis, and a sponge! And tell them to get a bath ready!" - -They scurried away, and Emily, hatless and panting, was back from the -chemist's on the other side of the street before I had finished -loosening the infant's clothes; and he nearly choked himself with the -first spoonful of the stuff, which nevertheless I was obliged to make -him swallow. - -"He can't! He can't!" Phyllis moaned, tears that she forgot to wipe away -running down her poor face like rain down a window-pane. "Oh, he's -choking! He's going into convulsions! He's dying! Oh, Ted, Ted! Oh, my -precious angel! Oh, what shall I do!" - -I calmly gave him another spoonful of the ipecacuanha wine, for I knew -what I knew--that in ten minutes all this grief would subside with the -sufferings of the poor child--and almost immediately the expected -results occurred. It was an agitating moment for her, still imagining -convulsions and the throes of dissolution, and an anxious one for me, -because this was a much younger victim to croup than any I had had to -deal with; but when the paroxysm passed it was evident to everybody--and -the servants also were standing round--that his distress was already -soothed and the tension of the attack relieved. I put him gently into -the warm bath, heating it gradually till he might almost have been -scalded without knowing it, fomenting the little throat with a soft -sponge; and when I took him out and rolled him in a warm blanket, he -sank at once to sleep in my arms, and the crisis and the danger were -over. - -Then in dashed Dr. Errington, desperately alarmed because he was so -late, and full of suspicious questions. Phyllis took him aside and -explained everything, and, although it was hard to convince him that the -right thing had been done, eventually he was convinced, and owned it. - -"I congratulate you, Mrs. Braye, on your presence of mind," he said -handsomely. "It it not at all unlikely, from what Mrs. Juke tells me, -that the prompt measures you took averted a serious attack." - -"Thank you, doctor," I replied with a modest smile. "I am glad to prove -to you that I am of some use in a sick-room." - -He looked a little embarrassed--as well he might--and Emily flushed up. -It was her habit to blush at anything and nothing, like a half-grown -school girl. But Phyllis spoke out bravely. - -"Mother has just saved his life, Dr. Errington--that's all. If she had -not come at the moment she did, he must have choked to death. None of us -knew what to do to relieve him, but she knew at once." Then, as she -kneeled beside me where I sat on the nursing chair by the fire, she -dropped her poor, pretty, tired head upon my shoulder, and said, in the -most natural way in the world: "Father is right--there's no nurse in the -world like her." - -I have had many happy moments in my life, first and last, but I do think -that was one of the happiest. - -We sat by the fire until dusk--we three and the sleeping child. He had -gone off in my arms, and I would not permit him to be moved or touched. -As long as the light lasted I watched his sweet face, and the blessed -dew of perspiration on his still open lips and where the matted curls -stuck to his nobly-shaped brow; never had I seen such a splendid boy of -his age--except my own. I made Phyllis put up her feet on a lounge -opposite, and every now and then I met her wistful eyes looking at me -as if she were a child herself again. Yet I saw a great change in -her--the great change that motherhood makes in every woman--enhancing -her charm in every way. Emily sat on the stool between us. Once or twice -she attempted to go--and I wished she would--but Phyllis would not let -her. However, though not one of us yet, she would be soon, and in our -murmured talk together I instructed them both in some of the things of -which, in spite of a doctor being the husband of one of them, they were -alike ignorant. - -"Remember," I said, "never to be without a four-ounce bottle of -ipecacuanha wine, hermetically sealed when fresh, and kept where you can -readily lay your hand upon it. And when you find your child breathing in -that loud, hoarse way, or beginning that barking cough, give a -teaspoonful at once--at _once_--and another every five minutes until -relieved. Now don't forget that, either of you. You thought it only a -bad cold, Phyllis dear, but I could have told you differently if you -had sent for me. When he gets another attack----" - -"Oh, do you think he will have another?" she gasped, springing up on her -sofa with that unnecessary, uncontrollable agitation which I understood -so well. - -I told her I expected it, but that there was no need to be alarmed, -since she now knew how to recognise and deal with the complaint, which, -even if constitutional with him, he would grow out of in a few years. I -suggested causes to be guarded against--stomach troubles, the notorious -insalubrity of Melbourne streets, and so on--and reassured her as much -as I could. - -"Pray Heaven," she sighed, with tears in her eyes, "that I may never see -him like this again! Oh, I can't bear to think of it!" She shuddered -visibly. "He would have been dead now--now, at this very moment--and Ted -would have come home to find we were childless--if it had not been for -you, mother." - -"I think it very likely," I said, looking at the darling as I gently -swayed him to and fro on the low rocking-chair. "But he won't die now." - -"And he wasn't christened!" she ejaculated. - -"_That_ didn't matter," Emily put in, with her inevitable blush. "You -don't believe in that old fetish of baptismal regeneration, surely, -Phyllis? You don't think the poor little soul would have been plunged -into fire and brimstone because a man did not make incantations over -it?" - -I rebuked Emily. As I had before remarked to Tom, she had all sorts of -maggots in her head. It was the B.A., the advanced woman, coming out in -her, and I did not like to see it, my own family having been brought up -so differently. I observed with relief, that Phyllis took no notice of -her flippant questions. She looked at me--knowing that I should -understand--and said she felt as if it would be a comfort to her somehow -to have him baptized. I suggested that it would be nice to have it done -in the cathedral as soon as he was well enough; and just after that he -awoke, we gave him his medicine, and Emily went home. - -When I had dressed the child for his cot and made him comfortable I took -up my own cloak and bonnet. But Phyllis looked so aghast at the -proceeding, and implored me with such evident sincerity not to leave -her, and particularly not to leave the baby, that I consented to stay at -any rate until Edmund returned--although, as I represented to her, her -father would be thinking I had been run over in the street. - -When she heard her husband's step in the hall she made an excuse to run -down to speak to him about the boy, and they came back together, and -straightway embraced me with all their four arms at once. Edmund, who -has always had the manners of a prince, spoke in the nicest way about my -goodness to them. - -"And now you won't leave us any more, Mater dear--now you see how badly -we manage things without you to help us? I have sent a message to the -captain--I've asked him to come by the next train--and your room is -getting ready. You _will_ stay--for our sakes--won't you?" - -I wept on Edmund's shoulder, like a complete idiot. And of course I -stayed. - - * * * * * - -Shall I ever forget that springtime! The garden was a garden of Eden -with flowers and birds--the bulbs in bloom, bushes of carmine japonica, -great clouds of white almond and pink peach blossom overhead, and the -scent of daphne and violets at every turn. As for the house, it was a -little paradise on earth, which a house can never be, to my thinking, -without a baby in it. To see that dear child crawling all over it, with -Phyllis flying after him--to hear him chirping to his grandfather, who -seemed to forget there were such things as pigs and fowls to see to--oh, -it was too blissful for words! I easily persuaded Edmund that Collins -Street was a place for women and children to live in when they must and -get out of when they could, and he knew when he confided his treasures -to me that they could not be in safer hands. He told me so, and I am -happy to say the event justified his faith. Every time that he came -over--which was almost daily, though often he had not half an hour to -stay--he found them rosier and plumper, turning the scale at a trifle -more. - -As I kept them for the summer--in the middle of which we all went to -Lorne for a month--they were with me at the time of Harry's marriage in -the spring. Edmund came down that morning to fetch his wife and Lily to -the wedding, bringing a carriage for them and Tom. Of course they wanted -me to go--everybody wanted it--Tom almost flatly declined to stir a step -without me; but I said, no, I would keep house and take care of the -precious grandson. After the way I had been deprived of him in the past, -it was beautiful to think of having him for a whole day to myself. And, -as I said to Tom, it was all an old woman was fit for. - -"Oh, I like that!" he laughed, throwing an arm round my waist. "You know -very well you've only got to put your smart gown on and walk away from -the lot of 'em--bride and bridesmaids and all." - -Old goose! But I am sure when he was dressed, and the lilies of the -valley stuck in his buttonhole, he could walk away from any young -bridegroom in the matter of looks--aye, even his own handsome son. They -all kissed me fondly before leaving the house--my pretty girls, and -Edmund, who was as dear as they--and I stood at the gate to see them go -with the pleasant knowledge that I should be more conspicuous by my -absence than any one by their presence at the wedding party, except the -bride herself. - -In the afternoon, when Eddie was asleep and I was beginning to feel -rather tired of my own company, I had a visit from kind old Mrs. Juke. -She too had married her sons and daughters, so she could sympathise with -me. We had a comfortable tea together, and lots of talk, comparing -notes, as mothers love to do; and then we amused ourselves with our -grandchild, like two infants with a doll. She was of Tom's opinion that -he was the image of me, and she was in raptures at the improvement in -him since I had "saved his life"--as she persisted in calling the mere -giving of a simple emetic. Strange to say, with all the children she had -had, she could not remember a case of croup amongst them, and she did -not know the sovereign virtue of fresh ipecacuanha wine. Later in the -afternoon we walked to the new house, wheeling the perambulator in turn; -and I showed her everything, and she thought all perfect--as it was. She -was wonderfully agile for a rather stout woman, making nothing of the -long tramp; and her intelligent appreciation of artistic things -surprised me. I had long discovered the fact that she was excellently -educated. Her father had had large flour mills and been wealthy in his -day, and his daughters had all had advantages--far more than I had had -myself, in fact. Poor Mrs. Blount, on the contrary, had never mixed with -cultured people, as her accent indicated. - -"Well," said Ted's mother, in Ted's own nice way, when our inspection of -the little house was ended, "Emily Blount ought to be a happy girl." - -"And she is," I replied. "About as happy as a young bride ever was in -this world--except myself." - -"And me," said Mrs. Juke. - -"And you." - -I was glad and proud to believe that it was so. - -But since then I have wondered sometimes whether Emily appreciates her -extraordinary luck as she ought to do. Now and then it comes across me -that she takes it a little too much as a matter of course. - -It is very nice--very nice indeed--to have her living so near me, but I -must say she is not quite so docile as she was before her marriage. -Being a University woman, she naturally knows nothing in the world about -housekeeping, and it was only in kindness to her and out of -consideration for Harry's purse that I advised her now and then on -domestic matters. I thought to be sure she would be grateful for hints -from one of such large experience, but it was evidently otherwise, -since as a rule she did not take them. I told her that three pounds of -butter a week for three people was preposterous, and that light crust -made of clarified beef dripping was infinitely nicer as well as more -wholesome than the rich puff paste they put to everything; but she went -on taking the three pounds just the same. Though I gave her a sausage -machine and endless recipes for doing up cold scraps, I used to see good -pieces of meat thrown away continually; and a girl they had, who lit the -morning fire with kerosene, and who told my Jane that she "couldn't -stand the old lady at no price," broke crockery every time she touched -it, and yet they persisted in keeping her. As I said to Harry, if they -got into these extravagant ways when there were but two of them, how -would it be presently when there was a family to support? But your son -is never the same son after he has taken a wife, and Harry did not like -to be appealed to. The other day he said, "Please don't interfere with -her"--quite as if he were speaking to some meddlesome outsider. _I_ -interfere! The notion was too absurd. I reminded him how I had held -aloof from the Jukes when they were young beginners, as proving as I was -not the sort of person to force myself where I was not wanted, even upon -my own children. But he and Emily are not like my beloved Edmund and -Phyllis, who think there is no one in the world like "Mater dear." - - -THE END. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Materfamilias, by Ada Cambridge - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATERFAMILIAS *** - -***** This file should be named 40659-8.txt or 40659-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/6/5/40659/ - -Produced by Clare Graham, Laura McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images graciously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Materfamilias - -Author: Ada Cambridge - -Release Date: September 4, 2012 [EBook #40659] - -Language: NU - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATERFAMILIAS *** - - - - -Produced by Clare Graham, Laura McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images graciously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<h1>MATERFAMILIAS</h1> - -<h3>BY</h3> - -<h2>ADA CAMBRIDGE</h2> - -<h4>AUTHOR OF</h4> - -<h4>THE THREE MISS KINGS, A MARRIAGE CEREMONY,</h4> - -<h4>MY GUARDIAN, NOT ALL IN VAIN, FIDELIS,</h4> - -<h4>A LITTLE MINX, ETC.</h4> - - -<h5>NEW YORK</h5> - -<h5>D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</h5> - -<h5>1898</h5> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h4>CONTENTS.</h4> - -<p style="margin-left: 35%; font-size: 0.8em;"> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">I.—<a href="#CHAPTER_I">THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">II.—<a href="#CHAPTER_II">IN THE EARLY DAYS</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">III.—<a href="#CHAPTER_III">A PAGE OF LIFE</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">IV.—<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">THE BROKEN CIRCLE</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">V.—<a href="#CHAPTER_V">A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">VI.—<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">DEPOSED</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">VII.—<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">VIII.—<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">THE SILVER WEDDING</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">IX.—<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">GRANDMAMMA</a></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">X.—<a href="#CHAPTER_X">VINDICATED</a></span><br /> -</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h3> - -<h3>THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL.</h3> - - -<p>My father in England married a second time when I was about eighteen. -She was my governess.</p> - -<p>Mother herself had engaged her, and I believe had asked, when dying, -that she would remain to take care of us; and I don't say that she was -not a good woman. She had been nearly five years in the house, and we -had the habit of looking to her for advice in all family concerns; and -certainly she took great pains with my education. But of course I was -not going to stand seeing her put in mother's place. I told father so. -I said to him, kindly, but firmly: "Father, you will have to choose -between us. There will not be room under this roof for both."</p> - -<p>He chose her. Consequently I left my home, though they both tried hard -to prevent it, and to reconcile me to their new arrangements. I will say -that for them. In fact, my father, pleading legal rights, forbade me to -go, except for some temporary visiting. I went on the understanding that -I was to return in a couple of months or so. But I was resolved not to -return, and I never did. While staying with my uncle, a medical man, I -privately married his assistant—one (if I may say so) of a -miscellaneous assortment of admirers. I am afraid I encouraged him to -propose an elopement; I certainly hastened its accomplishment. Then -after all our plottings and stratagems, when at last I had the ring on -my finger, I wrote to inform father of what he and Miss Coleman had -driven me to. Poor old father! It was a tremendous blow to him. But I -don't know why he should have made such a fuss about it, seeing that he -had done the same—practically the same—himself.</p> - -<p>It was a greater disaster to me than to him, or to anybody—even to my -husband, who almost from the first regarded me as a millstone about his -neck; for <i>he</i> could go away and enjoy himself when he liked, forgetting -that I existed. Indeed, it was a horrible catastrophe. When my own -children are so anxious to get married while they are still but -children, and think it so cruel of me to thwart them, I wish I could -tell them what I went through at their age! But I don't mention it. I -promised Tom I never would.</p> - -<p>At twenty I was teaching for a living—I, who had been so petted and -coddled, hardly allowed to do a hand's turn for myself! My husband was -travelling about the world as a ship's doctor. Father wanted me to come -home, but I was too proud for that. Besides, I would not go where I had -to hear Edward insulted. After all, he was my husband, and our -matrimonial troubles were entirely our own concern. Not from him, -either, would I accept anything after I was able to earn for myself. I -taught at a school for thirty pounds a year, and managed to make that -do. It was a wretched life.</p> - -<p>I was barely of age when the news came that Edward had caught fever -somewhere and been left in a Melbourne hospital by his ship, which was -returning without him. At once I made up my mind that it was my duty as -a wife to go to him. He had no friends in Australia, and not much money; -it was pathetic to think of him alone and helpless amongst utter -strangers; and I thought that if I did this for him he would remember it -afterwards, and be kind to me, and help me to make our married life a -little more like other people's. In those days there was no cable across -the world, and mails but once a month; so that when I started I was -altogether in the dark as to what I was going to. The first news of his -illness—with no particulars, except that it was fever—was all I ever -had.</p> - -<p>I would not ask my father for money. Indeed, he would have frustrated -my purpose altogether had he known of it in time. I went to my old -godmother, Aunt Kate, who was very rich and fond of me, and begged the -loan of fifty pounds, not telling her what I wanted it for. She gave the -money outright, with another fifty added to it; so that I had plenty to -cover the cost of a comfortable voyage. I determined, however, to save -on the voyage all I could, that I might have something in my pocket on -landing, when funds would be sorely needed. To which end I engaged my -berth in the humblest passenger-boat available—Tom's little Racer, of -ever-beloved memory. They told me at the office that she was better than -her name—faster than many that were twice her size. I was young and -silly enough to believe them, and also to forget that by the time I -reached Australia Edward's illness would have long been a thing of the -past, and he perhaps back in England or well on his way thither.</p> - -<p>If the Racer was one of the smallest ships in the Australian trade, her -master, Thomas Braye, must have been one of the youngest captains. At -that time he was under thirty, though he did not look it, being a big -man, quiet and grave in manner, deeply sensible of his professional -responsibilities. I remember thinking him rather rough and decidedly -plain when I saw him first; but he was gentleness and gentlemanliness -incarnate, and I never afterwards thought of his appearance except to -note the physical inadequacy of other men beside him.</p> - -<p>He has told me since that <i>his</i> first feeling on seeing <i>me</i> was one of -strong annoyance. Though a married woman and going out to my husband, I -was but a young girl in fact—far too young and far too pretty (though I -say it) to be travelling as I was, without an escort. It unfortunately -happened that I was the only lady in the saloon, and that the ship was -too small to have a stewardess. Three wives of artisans herded with -their husbands and children in the black hole they called the steerage, -and one of them was summoned aft as soon as we were in the river to keep -me company. But as the others were disagreeable about it, and she was a -coarse and dirty creature, I myself begged Captain Braye to send her -back again. Poor Tom! By the way, I did not call him Tom then, of -course; I did not even know his Christian name. He says he never -undertook a job so unwillingly as he did that job of taking care of me. -How absurd it seems—now!</p> - -<p>We sailed in late autumn, in the twilight of the afternoon. I remember -the look of the Thames as we were towed down—the low, cold sky, the -slate-coloured mist, with mere shadows of shores and ships just looming -through it. Nothing could have been more dreary. And yet I enjoyed it. -The feeling that I was free of that horrible schoolroom, and that still -more horrible lodging-house, where I cooked meals over an etna on a -painted washstand, and ate them as I sat on a straw-stuffed bed—the -prospect of long rest from the squalid scramble that life had become, -from all-day work that had tired me to death—oh, no one can understand -what luxury that was! Besides, I had hopes of the future, based on -Edward's convalescence and reform, to buoy me up. And then I loved the -sea. People are born to love it, or not to love it; it is a thing -innate, like genius, never to be acquired, and never to be lost, under -any circumstances. When the Channel opened out, and the long swell began -to lift and roll, I knew that I was in my native element, though a -dweller inland from birth up to this moment. The feel of the buoyant -deck and of the pure salt wind was like wings to soul and body.</p> - -<p>But I had to pay my footing first. It came upon me suddenly, in the -midst of my raptures, and I staggered below, and cast myself, dressed as -I was, upon my bunk. Never, never had I felt so utterly forsaken! When -ill before, with my little, trivial complaints, Miss Coleman had waited -on me hand and foot—everybody had coddled me; now I was overwhelmed in -unspeakable agonies, and nobody cared. It is true that—though I would -not have her—the steerage woman came in the middle of the night; and -once I roused from a merciful snatch of sleep to find my bracket lamp -alight where all had been darkness. These things indicated that some one -was concerned about me—Tom, of course—but I did not realize it then. I -was alone in my misery, alone in the wide world, of no consequence even -to my own husband; and I wished I was dead.</p> - -<p>Early in the morning—it was a rough morning, and we were in a heavy, -wintry sea—the captain tapped at my door. I was too deadly ill even to -answer him; so he turned the handle and looked in. Seeing that I was -dressed, he advanced with a firm step, and, standing over me, said, in -the same voice with which he ordered the sailors to do things—</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Filmer, you must come up on deck."</p> - -<p>I merely shook my head. I was powerless to lift a finger.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, you must. You will feel ever so much better in the air."</p> - -<p>"I can't," I wailed, and closed my eyes. I believe the tears were -running down my face.</p> - -<p>He stood for a minute in silence. I felt him looking at me. Then he -said, with a kindness in his voice that made me shake with sobs—</p> - -<p>"I'll go and rig up a chair or something for you. Be ready for me when I -come back in ten minutes. If you can't walk, we will carry you."</p> - -<p>He departed, and the steerage woman arrived, very sulky. I was obliged -to accept her help this time. Captain Braye, I felt, did not mean to be -defied, and it was a physical impossibility for me to make a toilet for -myself. When he returned he brought the steward with him, and, before I -knew it, he had whisked a big rug round and round me, and taken me up in -his arms. I weighed about seven stone, and he is the strongest man I -know. The steward carried my feet, but it was a mere pretense of -carrying; he was only there as a sort of chaperon, because Tom was so -absurdly particular. Up on the poop, with the ship violently rolling -and pitching, the man could not keep his own feet, and let mine go, and -we did not miss him. Tom bore me safely and easily, like a Blondin with -his pole, to where he had fixed a folding-chair for me—it was his own -chair, for I had not been able to afford one—and there he set me down, -in the midst of pillows and an opossum rug, with that sort of powerful -gentleness which is the manliest thing I know. All at once he made me -feel that I was in shelter and at rest. As long as I remained on that -ship I could cease fighting with the difficulties of my lot. He would -take care of me. There are women who don't want men to take care of -them—I am not one of those; I have no vocation for independence.</p> - -<p>I found I could not sit in that chair, luxurious as it was. I think all -my worries and hard work and bad meals must have undermined me. Even -though Tom made me drink brandy and water, I could not hold myself up.</p> - -<p>"Oh," I sighed wretchedly, "I feel so faint and swimmy, I <i>must</i> lie -down!"</p> - -<p>"So you shall," he answered, like a kind father, and he shouted to the -steward to bring up a mattress and pillows. In five minutes there was a -bed on the deck floor, and I was in it, swathed in fur and blankets, -like a chrysalis in its cocoon, more absolutely comfortable than I had -ever been in my life. I still felt ill and exhausted, and could not bear -the thought of food; but I breathed the sweet, cold, reviving air, and -yet was as warm as a toast, and no spray or rain could touch me. When he -had tucked me up to his satisfaction, placing his oilskins over all, he -took some rope and lashed me to the bars of the hen-coops behind me. And -there I lay all day, resting and dozing. No matter how the ship rolled, -it could not roll me out of my nest; being so secure, I felt the motion -to be soothing rather than the reverse. When not asleep, I gazed at the -pure sky and the gleaming tiers of sails, listened to the voices of the -wind and of the sea, and watched the stalwart figure of my dear -commander. At short intervals he would come over to ask if I was all -right; and at least once an hour he brought something with him—brandy -and water or strong broth—and fed me with it out of a spoon. Oh, Tom! -Tom! And I had almost forgotten what it was like to be tended and cared -for in that way.</p> - -<p>In a day or two I was well enough to walk about the ship and occupy -myself, and he was more reserved with me again. But still I always knew -that he was keeping guard over my comings and goings, and I felt as safe -as possible. His officers and my fellow saloon-passengers—none of them -gentlemen like him—were too much interested in my movements after I -began to move, and his eye seemed always upon them. Now and then I was -embarrassed and annoyed, and at such moments he quietly stepped in to -relieve me, never making a fuss, but promptly putting people back into -their proper places. At the first hint of trouble of this sort he had a -spare cabin turned into a little sitting-room for me—my boudoir, he -called it—where I might always retire when I wanted privacy. I found it -a comfort at times, but still my sleeping-berth would have done almost -as well; for I never wanted any visitor but him, and he never asked to -come. When it was weather for it, I lived on the poop in his -folding-chair—always lashed ready for me—and that's where I preferred -to be. Even when not weather for it, I often begged to stay, for the -support of his company; and sometimes, but not always, he would allow me -to do so, making me fast with ropes, and surrounding me with a screen of -tarpaulin. For hours I would lie, like a cradled baby, and watch his -gallant figure and his alert eyes, and listen to his steady tramp, as he -went up and down. I had no fear of anything while he was there, and he -seemed always there. I learned afterwards how terribly he deprived -himself of rest and sleep because of his responsibility for the safety -of us all.</p> - -<p>For the Racer was an ancient vessel of the tramp description, little -fitted to do battle with such storms as we encountered. Her old timbers -creaked and groaned, as if in their last agony, when buffeted by the -heavy seas; and the way she took in water at the pores, without actually -springing leaks, was dreadful. The clacking of the pumps and the gushing -of the inexhaustible stream seemed always in one's ears, and when waves -broke over her and drained down through a stove-in skylight, of course -it was far worse—even dangerous. She simply wallowed about like a log, -too heavy and lumbering to get out of the way of anything. I could not -bear to see Tom's stern and haggard face, to know the strain he was -enduring, and that I could do nothing to lighten it; but as for -<i>danger</i>—I never thought of such a thing! Not that I am at all a -courageous person, as a rule.</p> - -<p>I believe we were somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Cape when the -most noteworthy of our experiences befell us. We were struggling with -the chronic "dirty" weather—absurd adjective for a thing so majestic -and inspiring!—and I was on deck, firmly tied to my chair, and my -chair to the mast, dry under oilskins, and only my face exposed to wind -and spray, which threatened to take the skin off. I could hardly see the -length of the ship through the spindrift of the gale, and the way it -shrieked in the rigging was like fiends let loose. Bee—a—utiful!</p> - -<p>And Tom wanted to spoil all my pleasure by shutting me down in a nasty, -stuffy, smelly, pitch-dark cabin, where I couldn't breathe and shouldn't -know anything that went on, nor have a soul to speak to. However, I was -getting used to him by this time, and so, when he staggered up and -announced that he had come to take me below, because it was no longer -fit for me to be on deck, I told him flatly that I would not go.</p> - -<p>"You must go," said he.</p> - -<p>"I won't go," said I.</p> - -<p>"The captain's commands must be obeyed, Mrs. Filmer."</p> - -<p>"Not in this case, Captain."</p> - -<p>"In every case, Madam."</p> - -<p>"Not a bit of it," I persisted, laughing in his face, which was rather -grim, but yet not quite inflexible. "I am not one of your sailors, to be -ordered about. I shall do what I like. And this is exactly what I like."</p> - -<p>He condescended to argue, and then of course I would not give in. He -said he must use force and carry me, but that was an obviously -impossible thing to do without my assistance, considering the angle of -the decks. When I saw him looking really worried, I condescended to -plead myself, and I suppose he could not resist that. He has told me -since that he never felt the same man after this act of weakness, but -I'm sure I cannot see where the weakness came in. With great difficulty, -and meanwhile flashing anxious glances hither and thither, he got more -rope and made fresh windings and tyings about me.</p> - -<p>"You are a spoilt child," was all he said. He did not look happy, but I -was very pleased with the issue of our encounter. I felt that it had -strengthened my position somehow—taken away all my awe and fear of -him—and I would not have missed my subsequent experiences on deck that -day for anything.</p> - -<p>They were really tremendous. No sooner had I been trussed up like an -Indian baby in preparation for contingencies—no sooner had Tom left me -to give his undivided attention to the ship—than the chronic gale -produced a spasmodic and special one which I am sure was a cyclone of -the first magnitude, though he would not give it that name in the book. -What he called nor'-nor'-east had been the direction of the storm we had -grown used to, but just before he asked me to go below it had shifted to -"nor'," and now it jumped all at once to "sou'-west," with effects upon -the sea and the poor ship that were truly startling. Those wall-sided -mountains of water, that were bad enough to get over when we knew which -way they were going, began a furious dance together, all jumbled up -anyhow; and the first treacherous monster created by the change of wind -crashed bodily inboard quite close to where I sat—"pooped" us, as Tom -expressed it—and, washing over me, simply swept all before it, -including the wheel and the two poor men steering, who were driven upon -rail and rigging with such force as to injure both of them. How my -lashings held as they did I cannot understand—or, rather, I can, of -course—when strong wood was being torn from iron fastenings; and how I -issued alive from that tremendous shower-bath is much more wonderful. It -must have been the packing round me that saved my bones from being -smashed like the boats and hen-coops. I heard Tom's shout of warning -just before I was overwhelmed, and when I emerged, and could expand my -breathless lungs, I answered him, with a strange and joyful lifting of -the heart, "All right! I'm safe! Don't mind me, Captain!"</p> - -<p>If he had minded me at that moment we should have been lost together, -ship and all. She began to broach to, as they call it, and the -supplementary wheel had to be used at once to stop it, and just then our -lives hung upon a hair. The decks were filled to the brim, and I could -hear the deluge thudding down through the shattered skylight upon the -table set for dinner. And she rolled all but bottom upwards, the broken -rail going under and I dangling in air above it, and—and, in short, if -any one but Tom had been her captain she would never have been heard of -from that day. I am quite convinced of that. No man born could have -accomplished what he did—he says, "Nonsense," but I know what I am -talking about—although I was just as sure that <i>he</i> would accomplish it -as I was that the sun would rise next morning. I calmly held on to my -supports, and waited and watched. Sometimes I clenched my teeth and shut -my eyes, while I prayed for his preservation in the perils he did not -seem to see. He called to me at short intervals, "Are you all right?" -and I called back, "All right!" And when the worst was over for the -moment, he scrambled to where I was, and fixed me up afresh. Never shall -I forget the look on his face and the ring in his voice when he spoke to -me. "Brave girl! Brave girl!" I think it was the happiest moment of my -life.</p> - -<p>"But I don't understand it," he said to me, later, when there was time -to breathe and talk. "Why are you not frightened? When you were first on -board, crying because you were seasick——"</p> - -<p>"I did <i>not</i> cry because I was seasick," I indignantly interposed, "but -because I was lonely and miserable. You would have cried if you had been -in my place."</p> - -<p>"I thought," he continued, heedless of the interruption, "that you were -a poor little baby creature, without an ounce of pluck in you. But -you've got the courage of a grenadier. How is it?"</p> - -<p>"It is because I am with you," I answered promptly.</p> - -<p>I don't know what feeling I allowed to get into my voice, but something -struck him. Motionless where he stood, he stared at the great waves -silently, for what seemed a long time; then abruptly walked forward to -give an order, and did not come back.</p> - -<p>We were mostly silent when we were together after that. How hard I tried -to think of a common topic to discuss, and could not! So did he. But -while I had nothing to do but to think, he was terribly preoccupied with -the condition of the ship. She had recovered to a certain extent, and -was able to stagger on again, but she was a living wreck, all splintered -and patched, and the difficulty of keeping the water down was greater -than before. The pumps were always clanking, and the carpenter -hammering, and the sailmaker putting canvas plasters over weak places. -The whole ship's company were glum and weary, and the passengers—wet, -ill-fed, and wretched—complained loudly all the time, indifferent as to -how much they added to the poor captain's cares. He, though firm with -everybody, never lost his temper, or seemed to give way to the -depression that must at times have weighed him down. He was worthy to -command who could so command himself—worthy to be a sailor, which is -the noblest calling in the world. As for me—well, it was no credit to -me that I, of all on board, was satisfied to be there, and consequently -happy. I kept a serene and smiling face to cheer him. It was the least -that I could do.</p> - -<p>And it did cheer him. To my unspeakable comfort I was assured of that, -though he did not say so. I could see it in his face, and hear it in his -voice, when now and then he came to sit beside me, evidently for rest -and peace.</p> - -<p>"And so," he said, on one of these occasions, speaking in an -absent-minded way—"and so you are not nervous with me? Well, I hope I -shall be able to justify your trust."</p> - -<p>"You will," I said calmly. "You could not help it."</p> - -<p>"Heaven knows!" he ejaculated. "The glass is falling again, fast."</p> - -<p>"Never mind the glass. It is always falling."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't, if I had any sort of proper ship under me. But this——she -isn't fit for women to sail in."</p> - -<p>"If she is good enough for you," I remarked cheerfully, "she is good -enough for me."</p> - -<p>"But she isn't. I don't ask for much—at my age—but I do want a ship of -some sort, not a sieve. Oh, dear! oh, dear!"—looking round him with a -restless sigh—"we shall be months getting to Melbourne at this rate."</p> - -<p>"I don't care," I said, "if we are years."</p> - -<p>He made no comment on this statement, which I blushed to perceive was a -mistake; and I hastened to remind him that Edward's illness must have -been over long ago. Then he began, in an abrupt manner, to ask me how I -thought the passengers were bearing the trial of short rations which he -had been compelled to lay upon them.</p> - -<p>One day we were at great peace, because the weather was beautiful and -the water in the well diminished. A hammock of sailcloth had been made -for me, and slung in a nice place, and I lay there almost the whole day -through, swinging softly with the ship as she soared and dived over -mile-long billows or swayed in the deep beam swells with the airy -motion of a bird upon the wing. The Racer could feel like that at times, -even yet; and I was too happy for speech or thought—that is, in a sad -and pensive fashion. So, I know, was Tom, although he too had no words -and hardly a look for me as he paced to and fro. It was just the -consciousness that I was there—that he was there—permitted to rest -together for an interval from our battle with fate. Even the sight of -his substantial figure, never out of my mind's eye, while my other eyes -saw only the lifting and sinking of the gunwale against the gleaming, -silky sea—even the roar of his strong voice, occasionally using -"language" in a professional way—could not take away the sense as of an -enchanted world enveloping us, as if we were disembodied spirits in some -heavenly sphere. But I can't describe it. Perhaps the reader -understands.</p> - -<p>The night was lovelier than the day—there was a moon shining—and one -literally <i>ached</i> with the sweetness of it. Each of us was on the way -to bed, and somehow we could not resist the temptation to linger by the -rail a little. The ship was under command of the chief officer, and all -was well for the time. We were alone where we stood.</p> - -<p>Speaking of the change of weather and his late responsibilities, he -said: "If I am ever so unfortunate as to lose the lives committed to me, -I shall just stand still and go down with the ship—when I have done -what I can do."</p> - -<p>"If that should come," I returned, "please don't put me into a boat and -send me off without you. Let me stand still and go down too."</p> - -<p>"Not if there's a chance for the boat," he said.</p> - -<p>We had spoken in a light way, but deep thoughts welled up in us. "Oh," I -broke out—for I had not his self-control—"oh, it would be better than -anything that could happen to me now!"</p> - -<p>All he said to that was "Hush—sh—sh!" but I could not check myself -immediately.</p> - -<p>"I would rather die that way than live—as I must live when I no longer -have you to take care of me!" I wailed, reckless. "Oh, I wish I could! I -wish I could!"</p> - -<p>And indeed I meant it. Even as we went down, I thought, he would keep -the sea monsters from terrifying and devouring me; he would take care of -me, regardless of himself—that was inevitable—until we were both dead. -The fear of death was nothing to the fear of life as it would present -itself at my journey's end. I had <i>no</i> fear of death—with him.</p> - -<p>He laid his broad, brown hand on mine that clutched the rail—a solemn -gesture—and he said, in a shaking voice, "My dear, it's well you remind -me that it's my business to take care of you. We have got our duty to -do, both of us. Come, it's getting late; it's bed time. We mustn't stay -here in the moonlight and let ourselves get foolish."</p> - -<p>Still holding my hand, he led me downstairs. At the door of my cabin he -gave it a great strong squeeze, and then let it go without another -word. He did not kiss me. Oh, true heart! Death to him would have been -infinitely easier than the ordeal I made him suffer through those long -weeks. But he never allowed himself to be overcome.</p> - -<p>It was not long after this that the dreaded moment came when land was -reported. Words cannot describe my terror of the impending change. It -was my only safe haven—my home—from which I was, as I thought, to be -cast out, and I simply dared not imagine what sort of life awaited me.</p> - -<p>The crippled Racer anchored in Hobson's Bay at nightfall. Most of the -passengers went off in boats, and those who rowed to the ship returned -with them. Dressed in walking clothes, I sat in the little cabin that -had been my sitting-room, listening and shivering, trying (with the -example I had before me) to brace myself to meet things as a brave woman -should; but no one came for me. Only Tom. Rather late in the evening, -when all had gone except the steerage woman and her children, with whose -husband and father he had made some business arrangement, the captain -entered my private apartment alone for the first time. There was an -indescribable expression on his face, which had looked so fagged of -late. His eyes did not meet mine. His whole frame trembled like a -girl's.</p> - -<p>"Oh, has he come?" I cried—I believe I almost shrieked.</p> - -<p>"No," said he; "he hasn't come. You'd better go to bed now—go and sleep -if you can—and I'll tell you about it to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"What is it?" I implored. "What has happened? What have you heard? Oh, -tell me now, for pity's sake!"</p> - -<p>He sat down on the little bunk beside me, and took my hand between his -two hands; he did it as a father might do it, to support my weakness -under the shock coming.</p> - -<p>"The fact is, Mrs. Filmer—the fact is, dear—I sent ashore for news. I -thought I'd better make some inquiries first. And—and—and——"</p> - -<p>"I know—I know! He has left the country, and abandoned me again!"</p> - -<p>"No, poor fellow! He died of that illness—six months ago."</p> - -<p>At first I did not understand the meaning of the words. It was an event -that had never entered into my calculations, strange to say. But the -moment I realised the position—it is a dreadful, dreadful thing to -confess, but God knows I never meant any harm—my arms instinctively -went up to Tom's stooping shoulders and, hiding my face in his breast, I -nearly swooned with joy.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h3> - -<h3>IN THE EARLY DAYS.</h3> - - -<p>I was not a girl, but a woman, when I married Tom. He, a man incapable -of grossness in any shape or form, was still a man, healthily natural, -of ripe experience in the ways of men. Whatever our faults in the -past—if they were faults—the result was to teach us what we could -never otherwise have learned, the meaning of wedlock in its last -perfection. Don't let any one run down second marriages to me! The way -to them must necessarily be painful and troubled, and one always desires -passionately to keep one's children out of it; but the end of the -journey, bringing together, open-eyed to all the conditions, educated to -discriminate and understand, two born mates like Tom and me—ah, well! -One mustn't say all one thinks about these matters—except, of course, -to him.</p> - -<p>Talking of being open-eyed, I was so blind at one time as actually to -fancy that he was in no hurry to have me. When I gave him to -understand—hardly knowing what I did—that I should die or something -without him to take care of me, he said he asked nothing better than to -take care of me, God knew, but that how to do it for the best was what -bothered him. It did not bother me in the slightest degree. I depended -on him—only on him of all the world—and I told him so; and yet he -wanted, after <i>that</i>, to send me back to my father with some old woman -whom I had never seen, in another ship, while he took the Racer -home—which never would have got home, nor he either. And I a married -woman, independent in my own right, and over twenty-one! However, I -flatly refused to go, except with him, as I had come. He said he would -not trust my life to that rotten tub again, and I said—I forget what I -said; but I hurt his feelings by it; and then I cried bitterly, and -said I would go out and be a housemaid.</p> - -<p>The deadlock was suddenly ended by the Racer being condemned by the -authorities of the port as unfit for sea again. When that happened we -both decided to stay in the new country, and, having him near me, I was -quite content to postpone matrimony until things became a little -settled. It was soon plain enough that he was not anxious to postpone -for the mere sake of doing so; he only wanted a clear understanding with -father first, as well as with his owners, and to give me time for second -thoughts, and for considering the advice of my family.</p> - -<p>It took long for letters to come and go, and I began to be haunted in my -walks by a strange man, who—I suppose—admired me. Tom found this out -on the same day that he accepted an appointment as chief officer with a -Melbourne shipping company. I could not imagine what had happened when -he came to see me at my poor lodging with such a resolute face.</p> - -<p>"Mary," he said, "who's that fellow hanging round outside? I've seen him -several times."</p> - -<p>"Tom," I protested sincerely, "I don't know any more than you do. But he -is a rude man; he stares at me and follows me, and I can't get rid of -him. Of course, he sees that I am——" I was going to say "unprotected," -and hastily substituted "alone," which was not much better.</p> - -<p>"Well, now, look here—I've got a ship, Mary"—he did not pain me with -further explanations on that head; later I wept to think of his -subservient position in that ship—"and this means an income, dear. Not -much, but perhaps enough——"</p> - -<p>"Does it mean that you are going away?" I cried, terrified.</p> - -<p>"Not far. Only for a few days at a time. I start on Friday. This is -Monday."</p> - -<p>He took my hands; he looked into my eyes; I knew him so well that I knew -just what he was going to say. The colour poured into my face, but I -made no mock-modest pretence of being shy or shocked.</p> - -<p>As a preliminary, he questioned me as if I were on trial for my life. -"Answer me <i>quite</i> truthfully, Mary"—he called me Mary before we were -married, but always Polly afterwards—"tell me, on your solemn word of -honour, do you love me—beyond all possible doubt—beyond all chance of -changing or tiring, after it's too late?"</p> - -<p>I told him that I loved him beyond doubt, beyond words, beyond -everything, and should do so, I was absolutely convinced, to my life's -end. I further declared that he knew it as well as I did, and was simply -wasting breath.</p> - -<p>"And you really and truly do wish to marry me, Mary?"</p> - -<p>I attempted to laugh at his tragic gravity and his awkward choice of -words. I said I didn't unless he did, that I wouldn't inconvenience him -or force his inclination for the world. I asked him, plainly, whether he -thought that quite the way to put it.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said. "For I want to make sure that I—that -circumstances—are not taking advantage of you while you are young and -helpless. And yet how can I be sure?"</p> - -<p>He took my face between his hands and gazed at it, as if he would look -down through my eyes to the bottom of my soul. I shut them after a -moment, and tears began to ooze between the lids at the thought that he -could doubt me. One trickled out and splashed upon his knee, and my -heart began to heave with the impulse to cry in earnest. Then he drew my -face—drew me into his arms, and we sat a little without speaking, -hearing our hearts thump.</p> - -<p>"We'll chance it, shall we?" he whispered between short breaths. "Sooner -or later it must come to that, and better as soon as possible if I have -to leave you in Melbourne alone. You won't be so much alone if you -belong to me, even when I am away—will you, sweetheart?"</p> - -<p>I merely sighed—that kind of long, full, vibrating sigh which means -that your feelings are too deep for words.</p> - -<p>"I think I shall be able to answer to your father—I hope so," he -continued, rallying his constant self-control. "I think I am justified, -Mary. If not——"</p> - -<p>But I would not let him go upon that tack. Justification was absolute, -in my view of the case. I know what the ill-natured reader will say—she -will say that I threw myself at his head, that I forced myself upon him, -that I did not give him a chance to get out of marrying me if he had -wanted to; but that is only because she knows nothing whatever about it. -I cannot explain. I simply state the fact that we had one mind between -us on the matter, and if she doesn't believe me I can't help it.</p> - -<p>"This is Monday," Tom repeated, "and I sail on Friday. If we are going -to do it, Mary, I'd like it done before I leave. There's nothing to wait -for, if we don't wait for the letters, is there?"</p> - -<p>I told him nothing—that I was in his hands; and he proposed that we -should walk out then and there to find some one to "splice" us, as he -appropriately termed it, because it would be so much easier to attend to -all the other business after we were man and wife than before.</p> - -<p>Sailors have a terse way of acting as well as of speaking, and the -change that made life such a different thing for both of us actually -took place that very day as ever was. When the unknown admirer would -have followed young Mrs. Filmer in her evening walk—it was too hot to -go out earlier—there was no such person. Mrs. Braye was dining -delicately at a pleasant seaside hostelry, in the company of her lawful -protector, whose name alone was like a charm to keep his proud wife in -safety.</p> - -<p>We gave ourselves until Wednesday morning. Then we worked all Wednesday -and Thursday, like two navvies, to settle ourselves in the small lodging -that we selected for our first home. We were as poor as poor could be -and had to proceed accordingly, but little I cared for that, or for -anything now that I had him. On Friday afternoon he sailed—a -subordinate on that trumpery intercolonial boat, after being captain and -lord of an English ship—and I cried all night, and counted the hours -all day till he returned, when I went quite daft with joy. Not that much -joy was allowed us, even now, seeing that the greater part of his short -sojourn in port had to be spent on board. But it was wonderful what -value we could cram into the precious minutes when we did get them. -Again we had the agony of parting, the weary interval of separation, the -renewed bliss of the return, continually intensified; and then the -letters came—the letters we had tried, so unsuccessfully, to wait for. -Father desired me to come home for a time—a foregone conclusion—and -Miss Coleman did the same in more impassioned sentences. I daresay it -was heartless, but I laughed and danced with delight to know that it was -all too late for advice of that sort. And, to counteract any possible -feeling of remorse, Aunt Kate wrote in the sweetest way, all fun and -jokes, practically approving and encouraging me in the course I had -taken. To a young woman so situated, she said, fathers were quite -useless and superfluous, and she advised me to please myself, as I had -always done—that was how she put it. Best of all, she sent me a draft -for £500, either to come home with or for a wedding present, as the case -might be. And this precious windfall enabled us to take a little private -house that we could make a proper home of.</p> - -<hr style="width: 45%;" /> - -<p>The worst of being on these small lines is the uncertainty about the -movements of your ship. In winter Tom would run one trip for months, or -suddenly stop in the middle for docking and repairs—a mere excuse for -laying up, I used to say, because trade was not paying expenses—in -which case he would have a holiday without salary, and the pleasure of -his companionship would be marred by anxieties about money. In summer -there were occasional special excursions, "round tours," that kept him -away for a month or six weeks at a time; and these were what I dreaded -most.</p> - -<p>We had not yet had this long separation, but I knew—knew, but would not -admit—there was danger of it when we had been married a little less -than a year. It was our second Australian summer, and the time of all -times when I could not endure to part from him. I had now grown -accustomed to having him at home for a day and a couple of nights -weekly—happily he had a command again, such as it was, and could do as -he liked in port—and that was far, far too little, under the -circumstances.</p> - -<p>He was sleeping late, and I, having prepared his breakfast, sat down by -an open window to read the morning paper until he should appear. As a -matter of course, I <i>always</i> saw the name of our ship before I saw -anything else, even the Births, Marriages, and Deaths; she had her place -in a list of the company's vessels, with her sailing dates, in smallish -print, answering to her comparatively modest rank in life; my eye fell -on the exact spot by instinct in the moment of the page becoming -visible. I suppose it was the same instinct which to-day drew my first -glance to quite another column, where s.s. Bendigo stood in larger type. -My heart jumped and seemed to stop—"Christmas Holiday Excursion to West -Coast of New Zealand, if sufficient inducement offers." There it was! -And I felt I had all along expected it.</p> - -<p>I got up to run to Tom with the news. On second thoughts I decided to -let him have his sleep out before dealing him a blow that would spoil -his rest for many a night to come, and tramped round and round the -breakfast-table, moaning and wringing my hands, asking cruel Fate why -Christmas should be chosen—<i>this</i> Christmas of all times—and how I was -to get through without my husband to take care of me.</p> - -<p>My husband looked most concerned when he saw what I was doing. "Hullo, -Polly, what's up?" was his greeting, as he faced me from the doorway; -and his bright home-look vanished like a lamp blown out.</p> - -<p>I could not speak for the rush of tears. I held out the newspaper, -pointing to the fatal spot, and, when he took it, abandoned myself upon -his shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Tom—Christmas! <i>Christmas</i>, Tom!"</p> - -<p>He read in silence, with an arm round my waist. For a whole minute and -more we heard the clock ticking. Then he cleared his throat, and said -soothingly: "After all, it mayn't come to anything—at any rate, not -till afterwards. People don't care to be away from their homes at -Christmas. It's only an approximate date."</p> - -<p>He was wrong. The postponements that invariably take place at other -times did not occur this time—as if on purpose. The hot weather set in -early, and it seemed that many people did desire to escape, not from it -only, but from the social responsibilities of the so-called festive -season. The Bendigo was a good boat, as everybody knew, and her captain -a great favourite with the travelling public. I don't wonder at it! So -that the passenger list filled rapidly, and every day brought us less -hope of a reprieve. Tom seemed a year older each time that he returned -from the regular voyage, bringing this information, and I know I nearly -drove him mad with my pale face and tear-sodden eyes. One day he told me -so.</p> - -<p>"<i>What</i> am I to do?" he groaned, staring strangely. "How can I leave you -like this? I can't, I can't! and yet, if I don't go, Polly—it is all -our living, my dear——"</p> - -<p>Nothing ever frightened me so much. For <i>him</i> to have that look of -agitation—my strong rock of protection and defence—he who had never -wondered what he was to do, but always knew and did it, while others -wondered—it was too shocking. I pulled myself together immediately.</p> - -<p>"After all," I said, with a gulp and a smile, "the other poor seamen's -wives have to take their chance of this sort of thing, so why not I?"</p> - -<p>"You," he replied, in his fond, stupid way, "are not like the others, my -pretty one."</p> - -<p>He meant that I was far more choice and precious.</p> - -<p>"Being pretty," I rejoined, "is no disadvantage that I know of, having -regard to the present circumstances. Now if I was delicate, then you -<i>might</i> be anxious. Tommy, dear, I can't have you look like that! And -there's no reason in the world why I should not do as well as -possible—as well as everybody else does; indeed, I'm sure I shall. Of -course I shall miss you awfully—awfully"—my cheerful voice quavered in -spite of myself—"but there will be the proper people to look after me, -and—and—<i>think</i> what it will be when you come back again!"</p> - -<p>He had me in his arms now, with my face under his left ear.</p> - -<p>"My brave girl!" he murmured. "My own brave girl!"</p> - -<p>Just as when he called me that before, my heart rose elated. I -determined to deserve the title.</p> - -<p>"Of course you must go," I said firmly; "it is our living, as you say. -No use having a family, and nothing to keep it on, is it? I suppose it -won't be <i>more</i> than a month? A month is soon over. I can send you -telegrams. Don't you worry about me. I'm a wicked idiot to fret and -grumble; it is because you have spoiled me, love! I have got so used to -having you to take care of me——"</p> - -<p>I choked, and burst into fresh tears.</p> - -<p>However, I did manage to keep up very well until he went. Of course he -<i>had</i> to go; we agreed about that. Not much of Aunt Kate's wedding -present was left by this time. We had our little home, all comfortable -and paid for, but his small salary comprised the whole of our current -income. It would never have done to jeopardise that.</p> - -<p>But oh, it was cruel! It <i>was</i> cruel! He says I shall never understand -the agony of his soul when he bade me good-bye, and I tell him he can't -possibly have suffered the thousandth part of what I suffered. We -clasped and kissed as if we never expected to see each other again. I -really don't think we did expect it. And yet I was quite well and -strong, and every possible thing had been done to safeguard me in his -absence. Poor as we were, he made the nurse, who charged three guineas a -week, come into the house before he left it, and engage to stay there -till his return; and he also installed a nice old lady, whose son he had -befriended, and who he thought would be a mother to me when the time of -trial came. So she was; but not even an own mother could have made up -for the want of him.</p> - -<p>"God keep you safe for me," he prayed, as he held me to him, heart to -heart. "And you'll take care of yourself, my Polly. You won't fret, and -make yourself sick and weak—promise that you won't—for my sake!"</p> - -<p>"I won't," I answered him, trying to comfort him; "I will be as good as -possible. We'll <i>both</i> be well and strong—well and happy—to meet you -when you come home again. Tom! Tom! <i>do</i> you realise what the next -home-coming will be? Let us look forward to that."</p> - -<p>So I kept up to the last, to hearten him. The very last was the seeing -the ship go by at nightfall, on her way to sea. I lived where I lived on -purpose to have this view of her as she passed in and out. I watched for -her for an hour, and when she came it was too dark for me to see my -darling on the bridge through the strong glasses he had given me on -purpose that I might see him, and the flutter of his cabin towel against -the black funnel. Nor could he see me in the blue dusk of the shore, -with the evening afterglow behind it. But he sent a farewell toot across -the water, and I pulled the blind to the top of my window, and lit up my -room with every lamp and candle I could find. I knew he was looking, and -that he knew I knew it. We always signalled good-night in this way when -he passed out late.</p> - -<p>So I kept up to the very last. But when I saw his mast-head light go -round the pier, like a bright star in the evening sky, and glide towards -the sea that was to keep him from me so long when I wanted him so -desperately, then I collapsed like a spent bubble, and all my courage -went out of me. I think I fainted there by the window, all of a heap -upon the floor.</p> - -<p>At any rate, his back was hardly turned—he could scarcely have cleared -the Heads, we reckoned—when the catastrophe befell. I have often tried -to imagine what his feelings were when, at his first port of call, the -intelligence was conveyed to him that he had a son, and that mother and -child were doing well. He attempted to express them by letter, but he is -not literary. And he can't gush. All the same, I know—I know!</p> - -<p>Did I say that the happiest moment of my life was when he called me a -brave girl? I was wrong. The happiest moment of my life—even though Tom -was away from me—was the moment when I heard the first cry of my own -child. Words cannot describe the effect on me of that little voice so -suddenly audible, as great an astonishment as if one had never expected -it; but every mother in the world will understand.</p> - -<p>Oh, I am getting maudlin with these reminiscences! I can't help it.</p> - -<p>He was a beautiful boy—my Harry—worthy to be his father's son. We -called him Harry because Henry was Tom's second name, and also that of -my own father, whom I wished to please; for, after all, he was a good -father to me, and I used to think that perhaps I had not been as good a -daughter to him as I might have been. This thought occurred to me when I -had a baby of my own, and wondered how I should feel if, when he was -grown up, he were to take his own wilful way as I had done. It does make -such a difference in one's point of view, with regard to all sorts of -things—having a baby of one's own. For instance, I knew that Miss -Coleman—Mrs. Marsh, I ought to say—had two, and when Aunt Kate told me -I was actually angry about it; it seemed to me that it was just another -impertinence on her part, and that the children were interlopers in my -old home. I could not bear to picture them sitting on father's knee, and -being carried in his arms, filling my place and consoling him for the -loss of me. But now I was quite glad that he had them, and I sympathised -with Miss Coleman. I wished she could come and nurse me now, as she used -to do; how much better we should understand each other! I resolved to -have baby's likeness taken as soon as possible to send home to her, and -to ask her to send me the photos of her little ones in return. I was -convinced, of course, that there would be no comparison between them. -Doubtless hers were nice children enough—father was a particularly -handsome man, in the prime of life—but my baby was really a marvel; -<i>everybody</i> said so. His proportions were perfect, his skin as fine and -pure as could possibly be, his little face too lovely for words, and his -intelligence simply wonderful. Before he was a week old he knew me and -smiled at me. He had Tom's fair hair and straightforward blue eyes——</p> - -<p>However, I suppose all this is silly. At any rate, the silly fashion is -to call it so.</p> - -<p>It was dreadfully hot upstairs in that venetian-shuttered room, but -still I rallied quickly, and everything went well. The old lady was -indeed a mother to me, the nurse inflexibly conscientious, and my own -little maid like a faithful dog upon the doormat, constantly asking to -look at the baby and to be allowed to hold him. And yet—I know it was -ungrateful to them, but I could not help it—I never felt that I was -properly taken care of, because Tom was not behind them. I pined for -him—oh, <i>how</i> I did pine for him!—happy as I was in every other -respect. While I was still weak, and inclined to be a little feverish, I -fell asleep and dreamed that the Bendigo had been wrecked, and that he -would never come home to see his child. I cannot describe how that dream -frightened me and haunted me—that, and the memory of our last parting, -when we seemed to have had so many forebodings.</p> - -<p>"If I could only go to him!" was my constant thought, knowing that weary -weeks had still to pass before he could return to me, even if his voyage -prospered; and once I put it into words, "If we could only go to him, -Mrs. Parkinson, <i>what</i> wouldn't I give!"</p> - -<p>The old lady patted my shoulder soothingly, and assured me he would be -home in no time, if I would have but a grain of patience; while I had to -reflect that it was impossible to go a-travelling without money. I would -have "given anything" indeed, but I had nothing to give, though Tom had -amply provided for all my wants at home. Moreover, I could only have -left the house, while she was in it, over the dead body of my nurse. I -could manage the old lady, but not her; she was a rock of resolution -where her duty was concerned.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a series of things happened. The old lady had a telegram -summoning her to the sick-bed of her son—the very son that Tom had been -so good to—and flew to him, distracted. Poor old lady! My mother's -heart bled for her. And next day my little maid upset a kettle of -boiling water over the nurse (providentially, when the baby was not in -her arms), and the poor thing had to go to a hospital to have the -scalds dressed. She sent a substitute at once, because it was found that -she was for a few days incapacitated for her work; but I was able to -manage without the substitute. I told her I was now perfectly well—as -in truth I was—and therefore did not require her services. And the day -after that, by the English mail, I had a letter from <i>dear</i> Aunt Kate, -which, when I opened it, shed a bank draft upon the floor. She had heard -that I was going to have a baby, and sent fifty pounds to pay expenses. -A box of baby-clothes, she said, had been despatched by the same ship; -for she didn't suppose I had any money to buy them, or that, if I had, I -could get anything in "that outlandish country" fit for a poor child to -wear.</p> - -<p>I went straight into town and cashed that draft, taking my son with -me—proud to carry him myself, though he nearly dragged my arms off. At -the same time I ascertained at the company's office that the Bendigo was -hourly expected to report herself from Sydney.</p> - -<p>"We will go to Sydney," said I to my little companion, as we travelled -home again, rich and free. "We'll get Martha's mother to come and keep -house until we all return together—with <i>father</i> to take care of us."</p> - -<p>That same night I had a wire from him. He was safe at Sydney, all well; -and would I telegraph immediately to inform him how it was with me? -Would I also write fully and at once, so that he might get the letter -before he left?</p> - -<p>"We will telegraph immediately, to set his dear mind at rest," I said to -the son, who smiled and guggled as if he perfectly understood—and I am -sure he did; "but we won't write fully and at once. We can get to him as -quickly as a letter, and he would rather have us than a million letters. -Oh, what a simply overwhelming surprise we shall give him!" I was so -full of this blissful prospect that I never thought how I might be -embarrassing him in his professional capacity.</p> - -<p>There were no intercolonial railways then, and we could not have stood -the wear and tear of overland travel if there had been. Nor was there -any choice in the matter of sea transport. I was obliged to take the -mail steamer that brought me Aunt Kate's money, for it was the only -vessel going to Sydney that could get me there in time. I had to be very -smart to catch her, and just managed it, leaving my home at the mercy of -a plausible red-nosed charwoman who was all but a perfect stranger to -me.</p> - -<p>Of course I was an idiot—I know that; but, as Tom says, you can't put -old heads on young shoulders, and don't want to; and there is no -occasion to remember things of that sort now. <i>He</i> never blamed me for a -moment, and I am sure I cannot regret what I did, when I weigh the -pleasures of that expedition against what in the end we had to pay for -them. They were richly worth it.</p> - -<p>The voyage, even without the nursemaid whom I did not feel justified in -adding to my other extravagances, not only did me no harm, but really -invigorated me. A new-made mother, I had been informed, was never -sea-sick, and my experience seemed to prove the fact; while as for baby, -in spite of his catching a little cold, which he might have caught at -home, the exquisite sea air must have been better for him than the -gutter smells of Melbourne. He was as good as gold, and the stewardess -was an angel, and we slept like tops all through our two nights on -board.</p> - -<p>It was afternoon when we entered Sydney Harbour—that beautiful harbour -which I had never seen before, but had no eyes for now. All I cared to -look at was my beloved Bendigo, and there she was at her berth, and the -blue-peter was up! When I saw that, I felt quite faint. I ran round the -deck asking everybody when she was expected to leave, and all but those -who did not know said at five o'clock. It was now three. So that, with -other weather, I might have missed her! And Tom would have gone home to -find——Great heavens! But with the misadventures that we did have, -there is no need to count those we didn't. As it chanced, I was in -plenty of time.</p> - -<p>It was nearly four before I could get off the mail boat, and it was -considerably past that hour when I hurried up the gangway of the -Bendigo, panting, and bathed in perspiration—for Sydney is a hot place -in January—looking everywhere for Tom. The second officer, who knew me, -uttered an exclamation as he ran to take my bag from the cabman; and the -way he looked at baby—then asleep, fortunately—was very funny.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Mr. Jones," I cried, "is the captain on board?"</p> - -<p>"No, Mrs. Braye; he's on shore," was the reply, accompanied with violent -blushes. "You must have missed him somehow. Are you—are you going back -with us?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I am," I said, as calmly as I could. "But he does not know it -yet. I had some business in Sydney, and I thought I would give him a -surprise. Don't tell him, please; I will go up to his cabin on the -bridge and wait for him."</p> - -<p>"He may be here any moment," said the young man. And, looking to right -and left in an embarrassed way, he asked if he should call the -stewardess.</p> - -<p>"Not yet," I returned affably. "I will ring when I want her. He will -sleep for a long time. He's such a good baby—not the least little bit -of trouble." And then I turned back the lace handkerchief from the -placid face, and asked Mr. Jones what he thought of that for a month-old -child.</p> - -<p>He said he was no judge, and behaved stupidly. So I left him, and went -up to the bridge, where Tom had a room composed of a bunk and a bay -window, entirely sacred to himself. I don't suppose a baby had ever been -in it, but the pillows and things I found there made a perfect cradle. -As I laid my little one down on his father's bed, I was afraid the -thumping of my heart would jog him awake, but it did not. He sank into -his nest without sound or movement, leaving me free to watch at the -window for Tom's coming.</p> - -<p>It was past five o'clock before he came, and I knew when I saw him why -he was so late. He had been looking for his expected letter up to the -last moment, and had now abandoned hope. I also knew that somebody on -deck had betrayed my secret when I heard the change in his step as he -ran upstairs. Ah—ah! Before I could arrange any plan for my reception -of him I was in his arms. Before either of us could ask questions, we -had to overcome the first effects of an emotion which arrested breath as -well as speech. Never when we were lovers had we kissed each other as we -did now.</p> - -<p>"But what—how—why—where?" the dear fellow stuttered, when we began to -collect our wits; and in the same bold and incoherent style I -simultaneously gave my explanation. Half a minute sufficed to dispose of -these necessary preliminaries. Then I led him into his own cabin, the -doorway of which I had been blocking up.</p> - -<hr style="width: 45%;" /> - -<p>"But what are we going to do with him?" Tom asked—a singular question, -I considered, but he was full of the business of the ship—I wondered -how he <i>could</i> think about the ship at such a moment. "Hadn't you better -make a nursery of my cabin on deck? It's empty, and the stewardess'll -rig you up whatever you want."</p> - -<p>"I will make a nursery of it," I replied, "when I want to bath and dress -him for the night. And, by the way, perhaps I had better do that now, -before we start." For our son had been wakened out of his sleep, in -order that his father should see how blue his eyes were.</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, do it now," urged Tom, in a coaxing way. It was sweet of him -not to cloud my perfect happiness by hinting at the scandalous breach of -etiquette it would be to let a baby appear on the bridge while he was -taking the ship out. For my part, I never thought of it.</p> - -<p>He took me down to the deck, now crowded with people, who stared rudely -at us, and into the one cabin there, which was his own; and he called -the stewardess—a delightful woman, charmed to have the captain's baby -on board—and left us together, while he rushed off to speak with the -superintendent of the Sydney office, I suppose about my passage. Soon -afterwards we started, and until we were away at sea I was fully -occupied with Harry's toilet. Then came dinner, and Tom made me go in -with him, while the stewardess stayed with the child; and the short -evening was taken up with preparations for the night. It was arranged -that I should spend it in the nursery, of course, and I was strongly -advised to retire early.</p> - -<p>But the cabin was hot, and the outside air was cool, and I simply could -not rest so far from Tom. The moonlight was lovely at about ten o'clock, -so bright that, stepping out on the now deserted deck to look for him, I -could plainly see his figure moving back and forth at the end of the -bridge, outlined against the sky. And I could not bear it. Slipping back -into my room to pick up my child and roll him in a shawl, I prepared to -storm the position with entreaties that I felt sure my husband was not -the husband to withstand.</p> - -<p>He came plunging down the stairs just as I was about to ascend. I -stopped, and called to him.</p> - -<p>"Tom, <i>do</i> let me be with you!"</p> - -<p>"I was on my way to you, Polly, to see if you were awake, and would like -to come up for a little talk. It's quiet now."</p> - -<p>He put his arm round my waist, and turned to hoist me upward.</p> - -<p>"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "Is that——"</p> - -<p>"Of course it is. You wouldn't have me leave him behind, all alone by -himself?"</p> - -<p>"But won't he catch his death of cold?"</p> - -<p>"How can he, on a night like this? It will do him good. And I won't let -him cry, Tom."</p> - -<p>"Give him to me. I'll carry him up."</p> - -<p>"<i>Can</i> you?"</p> - -<p>He laughed, and took the little creature from me in a delightfully -paternal fashion, and without bungling at all. I had been half afraid -that he was going to turn out like so many men—like Mr. Jones, for -instance—but had no misgivings after that. Even when we encountered Mr. -Jones on duty, he was not ashamed to let his officer see him with an -infant in his arms. Certainly he was born to be a father, if anybody -ever was.</p> - -<p>It was very stuffy in his little house, which had the funnel behind it; -so he put a chair for me outside, under the shelter of the screen, and I -sat there for some time. It was simply the <i>sweetest</i> night! The sea is -never still, of course, however calm it may be, but its movements were -just as if it were breathing in its sleep. And the soft, wide shining of -the moon in that free and airy space—what a dream it was! At intervals -Tom came and dropped on the floor, so that he could lean against my knee -and get a hand down over his shoulder. The man at the wheel could see -us, but carefully avoided looking—as only a dear sailor would do. The -binnacle light was in his face, and I watched him, and saw that he never -turned his eyes our way. As for Prince Hal, he slept as if the sea were -his natural cradle. So it was.</p> - -<p>Presently Tom went off the bridge, and when he returned a steward -accompanied him, carrying a mattress, blankets, and pillows, which he -made up into a comfortable bed beside me.</p> - -<p>"How will that do?" my husband inquired, rubbing the back of a finger -against my cheek. "It isn't the first time I've made you a bed on -deck—eh, old girl?"</p> - -<p>I was wearing a dressing-gown, and lay down in it, perfectly at ease. He -lowered the child into my arms, punched the pillows for our heads, -tucked us up, and kissed us.</p> - -<p>"This is on condition that you sleep," he said.</p> - -<p>"It is a waste of happiness to sleep," I sighed ecstatically. "I want to -lie awake to revel in it."</p> - -<p>"If I see you lying awake an hour hence," he rejoined, pretending to be -stern, while his voice was so full of tenderness that he could scarcely -control it, "I shall send you back to your cabin, Polly."</p> - -<p>So I did not let him see it. But for several hours, when he was not -looking, I watched his dear figure moving to and fro, and the sea, and -the stars, with the smoke from the funnel trailing over them, and -revelled in full consciousness of my utter bliss.</p> - -<p>Even now—after all these years—I get a sort of lump in my throat when -I think of it.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h3> - -<h3>A PAGE OF LIFE.</h3> - - -<p>Does love fly out of the window when poverty walks in at the door? No, -no—of course not! Only when love is an imitation love, selfish and -cowardly, as true love can never be. I am sure ours stayed with us -always, no matter how cramped and starved. We never felt a regret for -having married each other, even when the practical consequences were -most unpleasant—never, never, not for a single instant. And yet—and -yet—well, it is all over now. One need not make one's self gratuitously -uncomfortable by reviving memories of hardships long gone by, and never -likely to be repeated.</p> - -<p>Another thing. <i>Is</i> it fair that a sea-captain should have such -miserable wage for such magnificent work? He has no play-hours, like -other working men, no nights' rest, no evenings at home, no Saturday -holidays—no Sundays even—and no comfort of his wife and family. He is -exposed to weather that you would not turn a dog into, and to fatigue -only measured by the extent of human endurance; and accepts both without -a thought of protest. He has the most awful responsibilities continually -on his mind, as to which he is more inflexibly conscientious than any -landsman living; and he is broken and ruined if an accident happens that -he is but technically to blame for and did his utmost to prevent. Yet -all he gets in return is a paltry twenty pounds a month! At least, that -is what Tom got—with an English certificate and a record without a -flaw. It is because sailors are not money-grubbers, as landsmen are, -that the money-grubbers take advantage of them.</p> - -<p>Tom used to bring his money home and give it all to me, and he almost -apologised for having to ask for a little now and then, to provide -himself with clothes and tobacco. Moreover, he never pried into my -spendings, though anxious that I should be strict and careful, and -pleased to be asked to advise me and to audit my small accounts. In this -he was the most gentlemanly husband I ever heard of. And of course I -strained every nerve to manage for the best, and prove myself worthy of -the confidence reposed in me. But I was not much of a housekeeper in -those days. At home Miss Coleman had attended to everything, even to the -buying of my frocks; for my father had never made me an allowance—which -I do think is so wrong of fathers! If you are not taught the value of -money when you are a girl, how are you to help muddling and blundering -when you are a married woman?—especially if you marry a poor man. I -thought at first that twenty pounds a month was riches. But even at the -first, and though we used enough of Aunt Kate's wedding present to cover -the cost of setting up a house, there seemed nothing left over at the -month's end, try as I would to be economical. When the second draft -came I had doctor's and nurse's fees like lead upon my mind; we did not -invest that hundred at all, and it melted like smoke. And then—before -Harry was fairly out of arms—Phyllis was born, and I was delicate for a -long time; without a second servant my nursery cares would have killed -me. I thought Aunt Kate would have sent me help again, but she did -not—perhaps because I had neglected to write to her, being always so -taken up with household cares. And I got into arrears with the -tradesmen, and into the way of paying them "something on account," as I -could spare the money and not as it was due; and this wrecked the -precise system that Tom had made such a point of, so that I kept things -from him rather than have him worried when he wanted rest. And it was -miserable to be struggling by myself, weighed down with sordid -anxieties, tossing awake at night to think and think what I could do, -never any nearer to a solution of the everlasting difficulty, but rather -further and further off. And I know I was very cross and fretful—how -could I help it?—and that my poor boy must often have found the home -that should have cheered him a depressing place. He seemed not to like -to sleep while I was muddling about, and used to look after the -children, or clean the knives and boots, when he should have been -recruiting in his bed for the next voyage. For I was again obliged to do -as I could with one poor maid-of-all-work, and I am afraid—I really am -a little afraid sometimes—that I have a tendency to be inconsiderate -when I have much to think of.</p> - -<p>By the time that Bobby was born—we had then been five years -married—all the romance of youth seemed to have departed from us, dear -as we were to one another. Our talk when we met was of butchers and -bakers, rents and rates, the wants of the house and how they could be -met or otherwise; and we had to shout sometimes to make ourselves heard -above the noise of crying babies and the clack of the sewing-machine. It -was exactly like the everyday, commonplace, perfunctory, prosaic -married life that we saw all around us, and to the level of which we had -thought it impossible that <i>we</i> should ever sink.</p> - -<p>Tom says, no. On second thoughts I do too. The everyday marriage was not -dignified with those great moments of welcome and farewell, those tragic -hours of the night when the husband was fighting the wind and sea and -the wife listening to the rattle of the windows with her heart in her -mouth—such as, for the time being, uplifted us above all things tame -and petty. And what parents, jogging along in the groove of easy custom, -can realize the effect of trials such as some of those that our peculiar -circumstances imposed on us, in keeping the wine of life from growing -flat and stale. The same thing happened at Bobby's birth as at Harry's, -Tom was perforce away, and I might have died alone without his knowing -it. Three months later the little one took convulsions and was given up -by the doctor; and the father again was out of reach, and might have -come home to find his baby underground. Never shall I forget those -times of anguish and rapture—and many besides, which proved that -nothing in the world was of any consequence to speak of compared with -our value to one another.</p> - -<p>But we forget so soon! And the little things have such power to swamp -the big ones. They are like the dust and sand of the desert, which cover -everything if not continually dredged away. And all those little debts -and privations and schemings and strugglings to make ends meet that -would not meet, were enough to choke one. Especially as Bobby cut his -teeth with more trouble than any baby I ever had, and as I, what with -one thing and another, grew quite disheartened and out of health, so -that I never knew what it was not to feel tired.</p> - -<p>The ignoble sorrows of this period—which I hate to think of—seemed to -culminate on the morning of the day that I am going to tell of—at the -end of which they were so joyfully dispelled.</p> - -<p>Bobby had cried incessantly through the night, so that I had only slept -in snatches, just enough to make me feel more heavy and yawny than if I -had not slept at all. I dragged myself dispiritedly out of bed, dying -for the cup of tea which did not appear till an hour after its time, and -was then brought to me rank and cold from standing, with no milk in it.</p> - -<p>"I forgot to put the can out last night," was Maria's cheerful -explanation, "and I waited in hopes that the milkman would come back, -but he didn't. And, please'm, what shall I do about the children's -breakfast?"</p> - -<p>"You mean to say you never left a drop over from yesterday, in case of -accidents?" I demanded, tears rushing into my eyes. "Oh, Ma-<i>ria!</i>"</p> - -<p>It sounds a poor thing to cry about, but I appeal to mothers to say if I -was a fool. Bobby was a bottle baby, and we had all our milk from one -cow on his account; and he was ill, and the dairy at least a mile away. -Rarely had I trusted Maria to remember to put the can out for the -morning supply, delivered before she was up; I used to hang it on the -nail myself. But last night, having my hands so full, I had contented -myself with telling her twice over not to forget it. With this result! -At any moment the poor child might awake and cry for food, and a -spoonful of stale dregs was all I had for him.</p> - -<p>There and then, with clenched teeth and a lump in my throat, and boots -on my feet that had mere rags of soles to them, I set off with the -milk-can to that distant dairy. It was a thick morning, and presently -rained in torrents. When I arrived, drenched to the skin, I was told -that all the milk was with the cart, and I had to wait half an hour -until the proprietress could be persuaded to give me a little. She was -unsympathetic and disobliging—I suppose because I had not paid her -husband for three months. On my return home Bobby, in Maria's arms, was -shrieking himself into another fit of convulsions; and the other -children, catching their deaths of cold in their nightgowns, were -paddling about on flagstones and oilcloth, fighting and squalling, and -trying to light the dining-room fire. They imagined they were helping, -but had spilled coals all over the carpet and used the crumb-brush to -spread the black dust afterwards; and the wonder is that they didn't -burn the house down.</p> - -<p>It was not quite just perhaps—poor little things, they <i>were</i> trying -their best—but the first thing I did was to box the ears of both of -them and send them back to bed. I don't think I ever saw them, as -babies, take so small a punishment so greatly to heart. They snuffled -and sulked for hours—wouldn't even show an interest in the apricot jam -and boiled rice that I gave them for their breakfast and imagined would -be a treat to them—and were more vexatious and tiresome than words can -say.</p> - -<p>"I wish father was home," Harry kept muttering, in that moody way of -his; it is the thing he always said when he wanted to be particularly -aggravating. "Phyllis, I wish father was here, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Oh," I cried, "you don't wish it more than I do! If father were here, -he'd pretty soon make you behave yourselves. <i>He</i> wouldn't let you drive -your mother distracted when she's already got so much to worry her, with -poor little brother sick and all." Tears were in my eyes, as they must -have seen, but the heartless little brats were not in the least -affected.</p> - -<p>And father's absence was an extra anxiety, for he was hours and hours -behind his time. The papers reported fogs along the coast, and I thought -of shipwrecks as the day wore on, and began to feel that it would be -quite consistent with the drift of things if I were to get news -presently that the Bendigo had gone down. I knew how he dreaded fogs, -which made a good navigator as helpless as a bad one, and wondered if it -implied an instinctive presentiment that a fog was to be his ruin! I -remembered his telling me that if ever he was so unfortunate as to lose -his ship, he should cast himself away along with her; and the appalling -idea filled me not with anguish only, but with a sort of indignation -against him.</p> - -<p>"And he with a young family depending on him!" I cried in my heart—as -if he had already done it—"and a wife who would die if he went from -her!"</p> - -<p>I was in that state of mind and health that when, early in the -afternoon, I heard him come stumbling in, my solicitude for him suddenly -passed, and only the bitter sense of grievance remained. The grocer had -been calling in person, insolent about his account, which indeed had -been growing to awful dimensions; and I was fairly sick of the whole -thing. It was not my poor old fellow's fault, for he gave me his money -as fast as he got it, but somehow I felt as if it was. And when he -dumped down on the sofa beside me to look at Bobby, I began at -once—without even kissing him—to pour out all my woes.</p> - -<p>I was reckless with misery and headache, and did not care what I said. I -told him things I had been scrupulously keeping from him for -months—things which I imagined would harrow him frightfully, much to my -sorrow when it would be too late. And he—even <i>he</i>—seemed callous! He -mumbled a soothing word or two, and fell silent. I asked him for advice -and sympathy, and he never answered me.</p> - -<p>Looking at him, I saw that his eyes were shut, his head dropped, his -great frame reeling as he sat, trying to prop himself with his broad -hands on his broad, outspread knees.</p> - -<p>"Tom," I cried in despair, "you're not listening to a word I'm saying!"</p> - -<p>He jerked himself up.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, Polly. The fact is, I'm dead-beat, my dear. It has -been foggy, you know, and I haven't dared to turn in these two nights."</p> - -<p>It seemed as if <i>everything</i> was determined to go wrong. I could see -that his eyelids were swollen and gummy, and that he was half stupefied -with fatigue.</p> - -<p>"What a shame it is!" I passionately complained. "What wretches those -owners are—sitting at home in their armchairs, wallowing in luxury, -while they make you slave like this—and give you next to nothing for -it!"</p> - -<p>"It's no fault of theirs," said he. "They can't help the weather. And -when I've had a few hours' sleep I shall be as right as ninepence. Then -we'll talk things over, pet, and I'll see what can be done."</p> - -<p>I rose, with my sick child in my arms, and he stumbled after me into our -bedroom. For the first time it was not ready for him. I had been so -distracted with my numerous worries that I had forgotten to make the bed -and put away the litter left from all our morning toilets; the place was -a perfect pigsty for him to go into. And he coming so tired from the -sea—looking to his home for what little comfort his hard life afforded -him! When I saw the state of things, I burst into tears. With an -extremely grubby handkerchief he wiped them away, and kissed me and -comforted me.</p> - -<p>"What the deuce does it matter?" quoth he. "Why, bless your heart, I -could sleep on the top of a gatepost. Just toss the things on -anyhow—here, don't you bother—I'll do it."</p> - -<p>He was contented with anything, but I felt shamed and heart-broken to -have failed him in a matter of this kind—the more so because he <i>was</i> -so unselfish and unexacting, so unlike ordinary husbands who think wives -are made for no other purpose than to keep them always comfortable. In -ten minutes he was snoring deeply, and I was trying not to drop tears -into the little stew I was cooking for his tea.</p> - -<p>"At least he shall have a nice tea," I determined, "though goodness -knows how I am going to pay for it."</p> - -<p>Poor baby was easier, and asleep in his cradle; the two others had gone -to play with a neighbour's children. So the house was at peace for a -time, and that was a relief. It was also an opportunity for -thinking—for all one's cares to obtrude themselves upon the mind—and -the smallest molehills looked mountains under the shadow of my physical -weariness.</p> - -<p>Having arranged the tea-table and made up the fire, I sat down for a -moment, with idle hands in my lap; and I was just coming to the sad -conclusion that life wasn't worth living—wicked woman that I was!—when -I heard the evening postman. Expecting nothing, except miserable little -bills with "account rendered" on them, I trailed dejectedly to the -street door. Opening it, a long-leaved book was thrust under my nose, -and I was requested to sign for a registered letter.</p> - -<p>"Ah-h-h!" I breathed deeply, while flying for a pen. "It is that -ever-blessed Aunt Kate—I know it is! She seems to divine the exact -moment by instinct."</p> - -<p>I scribbled my name, received the letter, saw my father's handwriting, -and turned into the house, much sobered. For father, who was a bad -correspondent—like me—had intimated more than once that he was finding -it as much as he could do to make ends meet, with his rapidly -increasing family.</p> - -<p>I sat down by the fire, opened the much-sealed envelope, and looked for -the more or less precious enclosure. I expected a present of five pounds -or so, and I found a draft for a hundred. The colour poured into my -face, strength and vigour into my body, joy and gladness into my soul, -as I held the document to the light and stared at it, to make sure my -eyes had not deceived me. Oh, what a pathetic thing it is that the -goodness of life should so depend upon a little money! Even while I -thought that hundred pounds was all, I was intoxicated with the prospect -before me—bills paid, children able to have change of air, Tom and I -relieved from a thousand heartaches and anxieties which, though they -could not sour him, yet spoiled the comfort of our home because they -sapped my strength and temper.</p> - -<p>I ran to wake him and tell him how all was changed in the twinkling of -an eye; but when I saw him so heavily asleep, my duty as a sailor's -wife restrained me. Nothing short of the house burning over his head -would have justified me in disturbing him. I went back to my -rocking-chair to read my father's letter.</p> - -<p>Well, here was another shock—two or three shocks, each sharper than the -last. My beloved aunt was dead. She had had an uncertain heart for -several years, and it had failed her suddenly, as is the way of such. -She went to church on a Sunday night, returned in good spirits and -apparently good health, ate a hearty supper, retired to her room as -usual, and was found dead in her bed next morning when her maid took in -her tea. This sad news sufficed me for some minutes. Seen through a -curtain of thick tears, the words ran into each other, and I could not -read further. Dear, dear Aunt Kate! She was an odd, quick-tempered old -lady, cantankerous at times; but how warm-hearted, how just and -generous, how good to me, even when I did not care to please her! When -one is a wife, and especially when one is a mother, all other -relationships lose their binding power; but still I could not help -crying for a little while over the loss of Aunt Kate. And I can honestly -say that I did not think of her money until after I had wiped my eyes -and resumed reading. When I turned over a leaf and saw the word, I -remembered the importance of her will to all her relatives. I said to -myself, "After all, the hundred pounds does come from her. It is her -legacy to me." And I was sordid enough to feel a pang of disappointment -because—being her last bequest—it was so small.</p> - -<p>"We buried her yesterday," wrote father, "and the will was read after -the funeral, and has proved a great and painful surprise to us. She has -left the bulk of her money to a man I never even heard of, an engineer -in India. Uncle John says his father was an admirer of hers when she was -a girl, but she never mentioned the name—Keating—to me, and I can't -understand the thing at all. She was always eccentric, and some of us -think we might contest the will with a fair chance of success. However, -my lawyer advises to the contrary, and my wife also; so I, for one, -shall let it go.</p> - -<p>"She has not altogether forgotten her own family. There are a number of -small legacies, including £2,000 for myself, which will come in very -usefully just now, though not a tithe of what I expected. I have also -some plate and furniture. You, my dear girl, are the best off of us all. -Besides jewellery and odds and ends, she has left you the interest of -£10,000 (in Government securities) for life, your children after you. -This will give you an income of £300 a year—small, but absolutely -safe—and relieve my mind of many anxieties on your behalf." He went on -to tell me about powers of attorney and other legal matters that I did -not understand and thought unworthy of notice at such a moment. He also -explained that lawyers were a dilatory race, and that he was advancing -£100 to tide me over the interval that must elapse before affairs were -settled.</p> - -<p>Again I went into my room and looked at Tom. How <i>could</i> he sleep in a -house so charged with wild excitement! I regret to say it was that, and -not grief, which made my heart throb so that I wonder he did not feel -the bedstead shaking, and the very floor and walls. I ached with -suppressed exclamations; I tingled with an intolerable restlessness, as -if bitten by a thousand fleas. And still he lay like a log, drawing his -breath deeply and slowly, with soft, comfortable grunts; and still, in -an agony of self-control, I refrained from touching him. Baby woke up, -moist and smiling. His tooth was through; he seemed to know that it was -his business to get well at once. It is not only misfortunes that never -come singly; good luck is a thing that seldom rains but it pours. Harry -and Phyllis came home, took their tea peaceably, and went to bed like -lambs. I sent Maria, with half a sovereign, to a savoury cook-shop where -they sold fowls and hams and all sorts of nice things ready for table, -and she brought back a supper fit for a prince.</p> - -<p>"It is all right, Maria," I assured her, in my short-breathed, vibrating -voice, seeing her wonder at my extravagance. "I am rich now. I can -afford the captain something better than a twice-cooked stew. Spend it -all, Maria, on the best things you can get. And you shall have your -wages to-morrow, and a present of a new frock."</p> - -<p>When all was ready—the glazed chicken, the juicy slices of pink ham, -the wedge of rich Stilton, the bottle of English ale—I returned again -to my unconscious spouse. It was ten o'clock, and he had been sleeping -with all his might for seven hours. Surely that was enough! Especially -as he still had the whole night before him. I stroked his hair—I kissed -his forehead—I kissed his shut eyes. He can resist everything but that; -when I kiss his eyes he is obliged to stir and murmur and want kisses -for his lips. He stirred now, and turned up his dear old face.</p> - -<p>"Pol——"</p> - -<p>"Yes, darling, it's me. Are you awake?"</p> - -<p>He sighed luxuriously.</p> - -<p>"Tommy, <i>are</i> you awake?"</p> - -<p>"Wha's th' time?"</p> - -<p>"It's <i>awfully</i> late. Come, you won't sleep to-night if you don't get up -now."</p> - -<p>"Oh, sha'n't I? I could sleep for a week if I had the chance. Ah-hi-ow!" -He yawned like a drowsy lion. "I'd sooner have twenty gales than one -fog, Polly."</p> - -<p>"I know you would. But never mind about gales and fogs and trivial -things of that kind. I've something far, far more important to talk to -you about—something that will make your very hair stand on end with -astonishment. Only I want to be quite sure first that you are awake -enough to take it in."</p> - -<p>He called his faculties together in a moment as if I had been the -look-out man reporting breakers, and was all alive and alert to deal -summarily with the situation, whatever it might be. And I rushed upon my -story, showed him the letter and the draft, and poured out a jumbled -catalogue of all the things we could now do that wanted doing—beginning -with a leaking kettle and ending with his professional appointment, -which I had decided must be resigned forthwith.</p> - -<p>"And we will live together always and always, like other husbands and -wives, only that we shall be a thousand times happier," I concluded, as -I led him in to his supper, hanging on his arm.</p> - -<p>"No more fogs and gales, to wear you out and perhaps drown you in the -end, but your bed every night, and your armchair by the fire, your home -and family, and me—<i>me</i>——"</p> - -<p>"Little woman! But you mustn't forget, pet, that I'm not thirty-eight -till next birthday. A man can't give up work and sink into armchairs at -that age."</p> - -<p>"Of course he can't. We can find some nice post ashore. There are plenty -of things, if you look for them."</p> - -<p>"Not for sailor men, who know nothing but their trade."</p> - -<p>"Oh, heaps—any amount of heaps! And you can take your time, of course. -No need to hurry for a year or two. You want a long holiday. You have -never had one yet. And <i>I</i> want <i>you</i>. What's the use of money, if we -can't enjoy it together? We have not had so much as one whole month to -ourselves since we were married."</p> - -<p>"Well, a sailor's wife must accept the conditions, you know."</p> - -<p>"Yes, when necessary. But it is not necessary now that we are people of -independent means."</p> - -<p>"Three hundred a year isn't three thousand. And we've got to educate the -kids, and put by for them."</p> - -<p>"No need to put by for them when they are to have my money after I am -dead."</p> - -<p>"For myself, then. You wouldn't like to die and leave me to sell matches -in the streets?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Tom, don't talk about dying—now that it's so sweet to be alive!"</p> - -<p>"My dear, you began it. I vote we don't talk any more at all, but eat -our supper and go to bed. Here, sit down by me, and let us gorge. I -have had nothing since morning, and this table excites me to frenzy."</p> - -<p>We cut off the breast of the chicken for the children and a leg for -Maria, and demolished the rest. We drank the beer between us, out of one -tumbler; we devoured half of a crusty loaf, and cheese sufficient for a -dozen nightmares; and I never felt so well in my life as I did after it. -Tom said the same.</p> - -<p>But sleep was far away—even from him. We had to arrange our programme -for the morning—the fetching of Nurse Barber to take care of baby, the -business at the bank, the settlings of pressing accounts, the beginnings -of our innumerable shoppings; and whenever a silence fell that I knew I -should not break, something forced me to turn over in bed with a violent -fling and make loud ejaculations.</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear, kind, sweet Aunt Kate! To think that I am so pleased at -having her money that I cannot cry because she is dead! Oh, Tom, Tom! To -think that we never need owe a penny again—never, never, as long as we -live!"</p> - -<p>This was merely the effect of shock. We sobered down next day. And it -was wonderful how soon we grew accustomed to having an independent -income, and to feeling that it would not go half as far as it should. -Long and long had we spent the hundred pounds before the first -instalment of the annuity was paid over; we thought it was never coming, -and when it came it melted like snow in sunshine. One has no idea what -it costs to furnish even a small house comfortably until one begins to -do it, and a few doctor's bills play havoc with all one's calculations. -And my husband could not stay at home with me—rather, he would not. I -am sure there were dozens of situations that he might have had for the -asking—a man so universally beloved and respected—but he would not -ask. He was fit for the sea, he said, but would be a useless lubber -ashore—a fish out of water, a stranded hulk, and things of that sort. -The fact was he <i>preferred</i> the sea—in which he differed from most -sailors—and hated streets and clubs and landsmen's pursuits. He said he -should choke if he were shut up in them, and I said, with tears, that he -cared more for the sea than he did for his wife and children. Of course -he declared it was not so, and his feelings were hurt; but he admitted -the strong affection. I was his mate as he described it, his nearest and -dearest—I and the children; but the sea was his comrade, to whom he had -grown accustomed—his foster mother, who had nursed him so long that she -had made him feel like a part of her. A foster mother is not much of a -rival to a wife so loved as I am, but, oh, how jealous of her I was!</p> - -<p>However, I don't believe that his affection for the sea had anything to -do with it. I doubt very much whether that affection was as genuine as -it appeared. My conviction is that he was in terror of the possible -indignity of having to live upon my money. Such utter nonsense!—when -wife and husband are absolutely one, as we were.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h3> - -<h3>THE BROKEN CIRCLE.</h3> - -<p>I had my heart's desire at last—with the usual calamitous result. Of -course it came when I least expected it, and in the paltriest kind of -way—merely because a workman, whom I had engaged to put a new stove -into the children's play-room, chose to leave his job unfinished until -over Sunday, instead of clearing it off on Saturday morning, as he -easily might have done. There was no school on Saturday, and it was a -wet, cold day, when even the boys had to be kept indoors; so there was -nothing for it but to turn them and Phyllis into the dining-room—my -nice dining-room, which had lately had a new carpet—while I took the -drawing-room for myself and Lily, to keep her out of harm's way. She was -not very well—nor was I; and I confess that I was in a cross mood. I -had all my four children with me then, safe under my wing, and did not -know how well off I was!</p> - -<p>During the morning they were fairly good, preparing their lessons most -of the time; but after dinner they were at a loss for amusement, tired -of the house, restless and mischievous—very wearing to a mother whose -nerves were out of tune. Even Lily became fractious. I gave her a doll -and some picture-books and my work-basket to play with, but she fiddled -with them, and fidgeted, and would not settle to anything. She kept -listening to the noises from the dining-room—the boys paid no heed to -my repeated calls to them to be quiet—and uttering monotonous whinings -to be allowed to go there.</p> - -<p>"Mother, do let me go and play with the others."</p> - -<p>"No, Lily; little girls must not romp about with rough boys."</p> - -<p>"Phyllis is a little girl, and she's romping with them."</p> - -<p>"Phyllis hasn't a bad cold, as you have."</p> - -<p>"My cold is quite better now, mother."</p> - -<p>"No, it isn't. It is only a little better. And we mustn't let it get -worse again by running into draughts."</p> - -<p>"There are no draughts in the dining-room, mother. It's all shut up. I -can put the flannel round my neck, mother."</p> - -<p>Oh, I could have smacked her! But of course I didn't, poor little ailing -mite—barely three years old; besides, my attention was constantly -distracted by the boys, who, when not rushing into and out of the hall, -yelling and slamming doors as if they wanted to bring the house down, -were scuffling and thumping within the dining-room in a way to make me -tremble for my good furniture. I went to them once or twice to read the -riot act, and each time they left off what they were doing the moment -they heard me, sat mumchance while I scolded them, almost laughing in my -face, and went on worse than ever directly my back was turned. Boys will -be boys, Tom used to tell me, in his easy-going way, but I don't believe -in letting boys defy their mother with impunity. And when presently I -heard the yapping of a dog in addition to their own shouts and cries, I -was at the end of my patience with them, determined to assert myself -effectually once for all.</p> - -<p>Rushing into the dining-room, before they had time to hear me coming, -this is what I saw. The window open—cakes of mud all over the new -carpet—Bobby's dog, streaming with rain, on the nice tablecloth, -barking at Phyllis's cat planted on a silk sofa cushion, which she was -tearing and ravelling in her frantic claws—the children standing round, -Phyllis holding her cat, Bobby his dog, and Harry inciting the impotent -animals to fly at one another, all three consumed with laughter, as if -it were the greatest fun in the world.</p> - -<p>The first thing I did was to dash at Waif, knocking him out of Bobby's -hands and off the table—and I shall never forgive myself for that as -long as I live. It was a shabby mongrel terrier which Bobby had picked -up in the street one day on his way from school, and been allowed to -cure of starvation and a lame leg and keep for his own particular pet; -and the mutual devotion of the pair was a joke of the family. Waif was -now fat and strong, though as ugly as before, but when he scrambled up -from the fall I had given him he limped a little on the leg that had -been broken; and Bobby snatched him into his arms again, and turned upon -me with blazing eyes—Bobby, who had never given me impudence in the -whole course of his life.</p> - -<p>"Hit me, mother," said he, "if you like, but don't hit him—for nothing -at all."</p> - -<p>"You call that nothing?" I cried, and pointed to the pretty terra-cotta -cloth—one mass of smears and muddy footmarks. Ah, my precious boy! What -would a thousand terra-cotta tablecloths matter now?</p> - -<p>He seemed quite surprised to discover that a dog brought in from the -rain and a garden that was a perfect swamp could be wet and dirty, and -stared open-mouthed at the damage done. I marched him to the window and -made him drop Waif out, tossed the scratching kitten after him, shut -down the sash and locked it, and then turned to Harry. For Harry was -the eldest, the ringleader, the one who ought to have known better and -who set the example for the rest.</p> - -<p>"You do this on purpose to vex me," I cried vehemently, "and because you -know I am ill to-day, and that father is away!" I did not quite mean -that, but one cannot help saying rather more than one means in such -moments of acute exasperation.</p> - -<p>"Do what?" returned Harry, looking as surprised as Bobby had done. "I'm -not doing anything. And you never told us you were ill."</p> - -<p>"I have a raging headache," I said—and so I had as the result of the -long day's worry. "And I have been telling you the whole afternoon to be -quiet, and the more I tell you, the more you disobey me. Look at that -beautiful new carpet—ruined for ever! Look at that lovely -cushion—simply scratched to pieces! And a great, big boy like you, who -ought to be a comfort to his mother——"</p> - -<p>But there is no need to repeat all I said to him; indeed, I cannot -remember it; but my blood was up, and I know I scolded him severely. And -he answered me back, as he alone of all the children dared to do, which -of course made things worse; for if there is one thing I cannot stand it -is impertinence. He was just telling me that, if I chose to regard him -as a ruffian and a cad, he could not help it, when we heard a distant -door open—the way a door opens to the hand of the master of the house.</p> - -<p>"There!" I exclaimed passionately. "There's your father! We'll see what -<i>he</i> says to the way you treat me when his back is turned."</p> - -<p>Tom came in, with that bright look he always wears when he sees us after -an absence. How could I have had the heart to extinguish it, and to make -his children quake at sight of his dear face, instead of flying to -welcome him, as was the rule on his return! But a mother's authority -<i>must</i> be upheld. I said so to Tom, and he said I was perfectly right, -and that it was his business to see it done. He bade me explain what -was the matter, and I did so, softening things a little—more and more -as I went on—since, after all, it was nothing so very dreadful. Perhaps -I had been a little hasty and hard; I thought so when I saw how Tom was -taking it. He had that inexorable look of the commander confronted with -mutiny—as if really I were accusing the poor boys of murder at the -least. And when I saw how they stood before him—Bob downcast and -tearful, and Harry with his head up, teeth and hands clenched, too proud -to quail—oh, I would have given anything to save them! But it was too -late.</p> - -<p>"I am sure they didn't mean it," I protested, laying my hand on Harry's -shoulder, which felt as rigid as iron under it. "We can overlook it this -time, father, dear."</p> - -<p>"The one thing I will never overlook," he replied, "is misconduct -towards you when I leave you unprotected. If they don't know the first -rudiments of manliness—at their age—I must try to teach them."</p> - -<p>"But <i>that</i> is not the way to teach them!" I cried—almost shrieked—as -he signed to them to pass out of the room before him. "Oh, Tom, don't! -don't! It is all my fault!"</p> - -<p>Harry turned and looked at me with an ice-cold smile, as if his face -were galvanised, and said calmly, "It is all right, mother. It is -<i>quite</i> right." And then the three of them left me, Tom himself sternly -keeping me back when I tried to follow; and presently, with my head -buried in the torn pillow and my hands over my ears, I heard an agonised -wail from poor little Bob. Not from Harry, of course; he would be cut to -pieces before he would deign to cry out. Oh, what <i>brutes</i> men are! I -hated Tom—though he was Tom—with a hatred that was perfectly murderous -while it lasted.</p> - -<p>We had our tea together alone—a thing that had never happened before, -on his first evening, since we had had a child old enough to sit up at -table. I had sent the little girls to bed—Phyllis for punishment, Lily -for her throat, and because I felt I could not stand her chatter—and -he had sent the boys. There were the usual first-night -delicacies—sweetbreads, wild ducks, honey in the combs—and for once -they were uneaten and unnoticed. All my preparations for his home-coming -were thrown away. He was glum and silent, evidently as upset as I was, -with no appetite for anything. As for me, I felt as if a crumb of bread -would choke me. And I would not speak to him—I could not—with that -shriek of Bobby's in my ears.</p> - -<p>"I suppose," he said, in a heavy voice—"I suppose I'd better resign my -billet and come home, Polly. They're getting pretty old now for you to -struggle with them single-handed. It's not fair to you, my dear."</p> - -<p>I treated this remark as if I had not heard it, and he soon rose from -his seat and left the room. He went into his little smoking den, shut -the door behind him, and locked it.</p> - -<p>When I thought him safely out of the way I stole off to see and comfort -my poor boys. They shared the same room, their beds standing side by -side, with a chair between them. When I crept in they were talking in a -low voice together; as soon as they heard me they fell silent and -pretended to be asleep. A smell of moist dog and an otherwise -unaccountable protuberance implied the presence of a third culprit—and -a flat contravention of one of the strict rules of the house—but I took -no notice, although terrified lest Bobby's shirt and sheets should be -dampened, and sickened by the thought of the fleas that would infest -him. Oh, how thankful I am now that I took no notice, and did not snatch -his bit of comfort from his arms!</p> - -<p>I sat down on the chair and leaned over Harry, smoothed his hair from -his brow, and kissed him. I might as well have kissed the bed-post. He -is a peculiar boy—a little hard-natured and perverse—and he can never -bear anybody to pity him. I was not surprised that he repulsed me, -though I felt dreadfully hurt. My beloved Bobby—my angel, whom I never -rightly appreciated until I had lost him—he was quite different. He -kissed me back again, and whimpered when I talked to him, and told me -he had never meant to be as naughty as father thought. Bless him! I knew -he never did. I told him so. But even then he was just a little reserved -with me, as if he could not quite forgive me for what I had brought upon -him—which was bitter enough at the time, but an agony to think of -afterwards, as it is to this day. So I went away to my room and cried in -the dark, utterly miserable. And I thought to myself, "If this is how -they feel towards me, how will they regard their father, who has treated -them so brutally? Why, they will never have an atom of affection for him -again!"</p> - -<p>But when I went back to them, hoping for a warmer welcome, and anxious -about their poor empty stomachs, there was Tom, sitting on the chair -between their beds, chatting to them, and they to him, as if nothing had -occurred—aye, although Waif had been deposed and banished. Another -chair had been dragged up, and a tray stood on it—a tray piled with -food, duck and sweetbread, cold beef and tongue, all mixed -together—which he was serving out in lavish helpings, with plenty of -bread-and-butter. Harry, leaning on his elbow, rested his head on his -father's arm; Bob, crouched at his knees on the floor, looked up at him -with his dear merry eyes, that bore no malice—not even a reproach. They -did not see me at the door, where I stood a minute to watch them, -suffocated by the sense of being shut out.</p> - -<p>I did not think it was quite right of Tom. But I did not say so. When he -called to me to come in and be apologised to—the boys did it -handsomely, but still rather perfunctorily, I fancied—I was glad to let -bygones be bygones, and to feel we were a united family once more.</p> - -<p>And I thought the incident ended there. Nothing more was said about it -while Tom remained at home, and he went away as usual, giving me—even -me—not the faintest indication of what was in his mind. So that I was -completely dumfoundered when, on his next return, he said, in a -tremulous tone of voice and with quite a tragic air generally:</p> - -<p>"Well, Polly, I've done it."</p> - -<p>"<i>What?</i>" I cried, guessing his meaning in an instant, for I remembered -his remark at tea that night when we were all so unhappy. "You <i>don't</i> -mean to say you have thrown up your command—thrown away -everything—just <i>now</i>, when we want so badly to increase our income and -not to lessen it—without a word of warning?"</p> - -<p>"No warning?" quoth he. "Why, haven't you been at me every day for the -last dozen years to do it? And quite right too. It's bad for boys to -grow up without a father to look after them, and their welfare is of -more importance than anything else."</p> - -<p>"You say that, and at the same time take away all chance of their having -a decent education and a fair start in the world! How am I to keep them -at the Grammar School, and have a governess for the girls, and support -the house and all, on my poor three hundred a year?"</p> - -<p>I should not have said it, and could have cut my tongue out before the -words were half uttered, but somehow the first news of the shock that we -were to lose half our income, on which we already found it no easy -matter to make ends meet, was overwhelming. And we were so accustomed to -speak freely whatever was in our minds that I never anticipated he would -take a chance remark so ill. I suppose his interview with the owners had -agitated him; as I heard afterwards, the whole office had expressed -regrets at his leaving the service, and said all kinds of nice and -flattering things about him; otherwise I am sure he would not have given -way as he did. He just turned from me, put his arms on the mantelpiece, -and, dropping his head down, gave a sob under his breath. My own good -husband! That ever I should have been the cause—however innocently—of -bringing a tear to his dear eyes, a moment's pang to his faithful heart!</p> - -<p>Of course he forgave me at once—he always does; and in a few minutes we -were talking things over in peace and comfort, while I sat on his -knee—for the children were in school, happily.</p> - -<p>"As for income, Polly, you don't suppose I am going to live on you?" he -said—and a very unkind thing it was to say, as I told him. "You don't -imagine I intend to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs, while you take -the whole burden on your little shoulders—do you?"</p> - -<p>"I don't see why you shouldn't," I replied. "At any rate for a long -while to come. I'm sure if any one ever earned the right to a thorough -rest, you have. And, oh, Tom, no burden can be a burden with you here to -help me!"</p> - -<p>"Thanks, old girl. That's good hearing."</p> - -<p>"As if you wanted to be told that! And by and by, when you have had a -nice long spell, there are sure to be posts offered to you about the -ports——"</p> - -<p>"No, Polly; don't delude yourself with that idea. There are no posts for -a sailor who leaves sea—that is, one or two, perhaps, and a hundred -fellows wanting them. I should be no good at office work, among the -smart hands, and the life would kill me. No, I've a better notion than -that—it's been in my mind a long time, and I've been talking it over -with experts, men who thoroughly understand the matter——"</p> - -<p>"And not with me!" I interposed reproachfully.</p> - -<p>"Well, I didn't see the use of disturbing your mind until one could do -something. But now the time has come." He was quite bright and excited. -"Look here, Polly—listen, dear, till I have explained fully—my idea is -to take a little farm place on the outskirts of Melbourne——"</p> - -<p>"A farm!" I broke in. "Are <i>you</i> one of those who think that farming -comes by instinct and doesn't have to be learned like other trades?"</p> - -<p>"I don't mean that kind of farm, but just a few acres of good land—more -on the edge of the country than in it, you understand—near enough for -the boys to get to the Grammar School by train or on ponies—and breed -pigs——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, pigs!" I echoed, sniffing.</p> - -<p>"Well, if you objected to pigs, there's poultry. With a few incubators -we could rear fowls enough to supply all Melbourne. Or bees. There's a -great trade to be done in honey if you know how to set about it. Bees -feed themselves, and flowers cost nothing—I particularly want us to -live among plenty of flowers—and I could make the boxes myself. But -pigs are the thing, Polly. I've gone into the question thoroughly, and -there's no doubt about it. You see, we should be able to keep -cows—think how splendid to give the children fresh milk from our own -dairy, as much as they can drink!—and we could send the rest to a -factory and get the buttermilk back for the pigs. And vegetables—of -course we'd have a big garden—and they'd eat all the surplus that would -otherwise go to waste, and the fallen fruit, and the refuse from the -kitchen; so that really the cost of feed would be next to nothing. The -pork would be first-class on such a diet, given the right breed to -begin with, and what Melbourne markets couldn't absorb we might ship -frozen to England."</p> - -<p>And so on.</p> - -<p>Well, it was a fascinating picture, and his enthusiasm was contagious. -I, too, thought it would be lovely to live amongst cows and flowers, and -at the same time be making a fortune out of our Arcadian surroundings. -So I went in for the little farm, and all the three classes of -profitable stock—pigs, fowls, bees—in short, everything. What would -have happened to us if Tom had not made a few unexpected thousands by -the purest accident, I don't know. He did a little deal in mining -shares, under the direction of a strangely disinterested friend who was -expert at that business, and so saved us all from ruin. I may add that -it was his sole exploit of the kind. I would not let him gamble any -more—beyond putting an annual pound or two in Tattersall's -Sweeps—because, although he thought he had been very smart, he was as -ignorant as a confiding infant of the ways of money dealers, and never -could have experienced such another stroke of luck. He was easily -persuaded to let well alone, as always to defer to and see the -reasonableness of any wish of mine.</p> - -<p>It was before we had fairly plunged into our messes and muddles—in the -very beginning, when the <i>couleur de rose</i> was over all—when the -dilapidations of our country cottage were all repaired, and everything -in the most beautiful order—when the fields were rich with spring grass -and the scent of wattle-blossom, and the sleek cows had calved, and the -hens were clucking about with thriving families of chicks—when the bee -boxes were still a-making, and the two first pigs only in their smart -new sty—when the children, released from the schoolroom, were -scampering everywhere with their father, who was more of a child than -any of them, and growing fat and rosy on the sweet air and the pure -milk—when we were telling one another all day that we never were so -happy and so well off—it was then that the calamity of our lives -befell us.</p> - -<p>A small creek touched the borders of the two paddocks that we called our -farm, and, like all creeks, was fringed with wild vegetation, bushes and -trees that interposed a romantic screen between its little bed and the -world of prosaic agriculture. It so happened that the children—like -many thousands of native Australians, far older than they—had never -seen the bush. When they had wanted change of air Tom had taken them to -sea; and as he had never had holidays himself, and I had never cared to -go away from home without him, we were nearly in the same case. That -strip of scrub was true bush, as far as it went, and we were delighted -in it.</p> - -<p>We were too busy just then to go thither in daytime, and would not allow -the children to ramble there alone, for fear of snakes—although it was -much too early and too cool for them; besides which, there were -none—but we would take the fascinating walk about sundown in a family -party, and sometimes have our tea there, returning after dark with -strange treasures of leaf and insect, clear pebbles that we made sure -were topazes in the rough, and stones with mica specks in them that we -thought were gold. And once we went there in moonlight—the full moon of -our first October—when it was mild and balmy, and we could easily -imagine ourselves in forests primeval untrodden by a human foot except -our own! How well I remember it—as if it were yesterday!—the enormous -look of the trees in that beautiful, deceptive light, and how we stood -in an ecstatic group under one of them to look up at an oppossum sitting -in the fork of a dead branch.</p> - -<p>Many people think that oppossums, like snakes and laughing jackasses, -are common objects of the country in all its parts; but that is not the -case nowadays with any of the three, and none of our family had beheld -the dear little furry animal, except dead in a museum or torpid in the -Zoölogical Gardens, while it had been one of the great ambitions of our -lives to do so. And here he was, alive, alert, and unmistakable, his -ears sticking up and his bushy tail hanging down, sitting against the -moon, as I had seen roosting pheasants in the woods at home, looking -down at us with the intense interest that an oppossum is able to take in -things at that hour. The excitement was tremendous. The boys literally -danced round and round the tree, and Waif was beside himself; he made -frantic leaps upward, turning somersaults in the rebound, wildly tore at -the bark of the tree and the earth at its roots, and filled the quiet -night with his impassioned yaps and squeaks. He also, to the best of our -belief, had never seen an oppossum before; yet he was as keen as a -foxhound after a fox to get at and destroy it.</p> - -<p>The little animal did not seem to mind. It sat still and gazed at us, as -is the way of an oppossum, even when you have no camp-fire or lantern to -mesmerise and paralyse it; we could almost fancy that we saw its fixed -eyes, large and liquid, in the light of the moon. And suddenly Bobby -ejaculated, from the depths of his heart, "Oh—<i>oh</i>—if <i>only</i> I'd got -my gun!"</p> - -<p>We took no notice—never heeded the warning given us—but only laughed -to hear the little chap talking of his gun as if he were an old -sportsman. It was a small single barrel, presented to him on his going -to the country by his godfather, Captain Briggs (much to my dismay at -the time, and the natural chagrin of the elder brother, who should have -been the first to possess one), and Tom had given the child but two -lessons in the use of it—shooting bottles from the top of the paddock -fence.</p> - -<p>Being without a gun, the boys flung aloft such missiles as came to hand, -and, when a stick of wood touched the branch it sat on, the 'possum ran -along it to a place where it was lost in leaves. Then we bethought -ourselves of the late hour, called off Waif, and went home to bed—to -bed, and to sleep as tranquil and unforeboding as the sleep of other -nights.</p> - -<p>The next day was exceptionally full of business. Recreation was not -thought of. It was nine o'clock when we left off work—Tom and I.</p> - -<p>Lily was long in bed, but the other children had no proper hour for -retiring at this unsettled time. I went to the sitting-room to look for -them, and found only Phyllis there. The lamp was not lit, nor the blinds -drawn. I noticed that the moon was up, and by its light saw her crouched -at one of the windows, pressing her face against the glass. I asked her -what she was doing there, and she did not hear me; on my repeating the -question, she sprang up with such a start of fright that I at once -divined mischief somewhere.</p> - -<p>"Where is Harry?" I cried sharply. Somehow it was always Harry, my -handsome first-born, that I expected things to happen to.</p> - -<p>Phyllis stammered and shuffled, and then said that Harry had gone to -look for Bobby.</p> - -<p>"And where is Bobby?"</p> - -<p>She seemed still more reluctant to reply, but suddenly exclaimed, with -an air of joyful relief, "Oh, there he is! There he is! There's Waif—he -can't be far off!"</p> - -<p>She followed me to the verandah, whither I went to meet and reproach my -poor little fellow for having strayed without leave, and there was no -boy visible—only the dear, ugly, faithful dog for whose sake all dogs -are beloved and sacred for ever and ever. Waif ran to my feet, pawed -them and my skirts, squirmed and jumped, yelped and whined, all the time -looking up at me with eyes that were full of desire and -supplication—trying to tell me something that at first I could not -understand. I took a few steps into the garden, and he scampered down a -pathway to the gate; seeing I did not follow so far, he ran back, seized -a bit of my frock in his teeth, and tried to drag me with him.</p> - -<p>"What does he want?" I called to Tom, as he sauntered towards me, pipe -in mouth. "Tom, Tom, <i>what</i> does it mean?"</p> - -<p>"Where's Bob?" was his instant question.</p> - -<p>"Harry has gone after him—Harry is with him—Harry will bring him -home," piped Phyllis, trembling like a leaf. Then she burst into tears. -"Oh, mother—oh, father—I heard the gun such a long, long time ago!"</p> - -<p>The gun! Who would have dreamed of <i>that?</i>—locked up in a wardrobe, as -we supposed, and forbidden to be so much as looked at except under -parental supervision. At the word our hearts jumped, and seemed to stop -beating.</p> - -<p>"He wanted to shoot the oppossum and cure the skin for a present to you -on your birthday, mother. And he wanted it to be a secret—for a -surprise to you."</p> - -<p>Waif whined and ran, and we ran after him—Tom in silence, I wailing -under my breath, already in despair and heart broken. I can see the -devoted creature now, pattering steadily over the moonlit paddocks -towards the creek and the trees, stopping every now and then to make -sure that we were coming; and see him tracking through the scrub with -his nose to the ground, and hear his little uneasy whimper when for a -moment he could not perceive us.</p> - -<p>Once we stopped at the sound of a distant whistle, and I shrieked with -joy.</p> - -<p>"No," said Tom gently. "That's Harry calling him."</p> - -<p>And we came to the place where we had seen the oppossum the night -before. The moonbeams trickled through the branches from which it had -looked down upon our happy, united family, and just where we had stood -together there was a dark something on the ground. Waif ran up to it and -licked it——</p> - -<hr style="width: 45%;" /> - -<p>I can't write any more.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h3> - -<h3>A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING.</h3> - - -<p>It was years, literally, before I got over it. Indeed, I have never got -over it—never shall, while I have any power to remember things. -Death—we all know, more or less, what it means to the living whom it -has robbed. To lose a child—the mothers know, at any rate! It is no use -talking about it. Besides, there are no words to talk with that can -possibly explain.</p> - -<p>I often hear the remark that my husband has the most patient temper in -the world, and I realise its truth when I think of that dreadful -time—how I must have wearied and discouraged him, and how he never once -reproached me for it, even by a glum look. He knew I could not help it. -For one thing, I was ill—physically ill, with the doctor coming to see -me. He ordered me tonics, stimulants, a complete change of scene, and so -on, but no doctor's prescriptions were any good for my complaint. -Winding a watch with a broken mainspring won't make it go. Tonics gave -me headaches—tonics accompanied by constant tears and -sleeplessness—and, hideous as the house was, with an empty place -staring at me from every point to which I could turn my eyes, I knew it -would be worse elsewhere. I clung to my own bed, my own privacy, my home -where I could do as I liked and shut out the foolish would-be -sympathisers and their futile condolences; and I could not bear to leave -the other children. Once you have lost a child, you never again feel any -confidence that the rest are safe; you seem to <i>know</i> they are going to -die if they but catch a cold or scratch a finger, and that they will -have no chance at all if you let them out of your sight. Besides, there -were things to see to—the poultry, for instance, which was under my -charge—if only I could have seen to them! I tried, but sorrow made me -stupid; and when the incubator was found stone-cold, and again -overheated, and on one occasion burnt to ashes with dozens of poor -chicks inside, and when dozens more were drowned in a storm for want of -timely shelter—all fine, thriving birds, when, you couldn't get a -decent turkey in Melbourne for under a pound—I suppose it was my fault. -But Tom always said, "Never mind—don't you worry yourself, Polly," and -his first thought was to get me a glass of wine. He was like an old -nurse in the way he cosseted and coddled me. When I was more ill than -usual, he thought nothing of sitting up all night by my bedside, and -making little messes for me in the kitchen with his own hands. He never -even said, as I have heard men say at the first starting of tears—not -after they have been flowing, like mine, for weeks and weeks—"Why don't -you make an effort to control yourself? You know perfectly well that -crying only makes you worse and does nobody any good"—as if a poor -mother cried from choice and perversity and the pleasure of doing it, -when her heart was broken! He knew my heart was broken. He understood. -No one else understood. They all thought I could control myself if I -liked. Some of them said so, and told one another, I am sure, though I -did not hear them, that it was the calm and composed ones who felt the -most. That is the theory of books and cold-hearted people; I don't -believe in it for a moment. Whenever I see a woman bearing up, as they -call it, without showing ravages in some way or other, I know what -supports her—not more courage, but a harder nature than mine. A man is -different. Tom mourned for our little son with all his heart, though he -did not show it; and he did not show it because he is so unselfish. He -thought of me before himself, and would not add a straw to my burden. -Never was a tenderer husband in this world! I believe those women -thought him foolish and weak-minded to indulge me as he did, but that -was envy, naturally; they did not know, poor things, what it was to have -such a staff to lean on.</p> - -<p>However, one day, when I was showing him how thin I had grown, taking up -handfuls of "slack" in a bodice that had been once tight for me, he -began to look—not impatient or aggrieved, but determined—as he used to -look on board ship when the law was in his own hands.</p> - -<p>"Polly," he said, "this has gone on long enough. I'm not going to stand -by and see you die by inches before my eyes. Something must be done. I -shall take you to sea."</p> - -<p>"To sea!" I exclaimed. "We can't leave the children. We can't leave the -farm. We can't afford——"</p> - -<p>"I don't care," he broke in. "I'm not going to lose you, if I can help -it, for anybody or anything. You're just ready to fall into a rapid -decline, or to catch some fatal epidemic or other, and I can't have it, -Polly; it must be put a stop to before it is too late. The sea's the -thing. The sea's what you want. Come to that, it's what I want myself; -I've got quite flabby from being away from it so long. It would brace us -up, both of us, and nothing else will. You pack a few clothes, pet, and -I'll go into Melbourne and look up a nice boat. Don't you bother your -head about the farm or the children or anything—I'll see that they're -left all safe."</p> - -<p>He was so firm about it that I had to give in. The sea, of course, was -not like any other change of air and change of scene—it did seem to -promise refreshment and renovation, peace even greater than that of my -home, where I still suffered from the mistaken kindness of neighbours -coming to expostulate with and to cheer me. Besides, when Tom said he -had got flabby for want of it, I noticed that he was not looking well. -There could be no doubt about the proposed trip being beneficial to -him—I must have urged him to take it for his own health's sake—and I -could not be left without him. So I mustered a little energy to begin -preparations while he went to town; for though I had begged for time to -think the matter over, he would not hear of delay. I never knew him so -resolute, even with a crew.</p> - -<p>At night he brought back a brighter face than had been seen in our house -for many a long day. I was sitting up for him, and even I had stirrings -in my heavy heart of a reviving interest in life. All day I had been -thinking of our old voyage in the Racer—remembering the beautiful parts -of it, forgetting all the rest.</p> - -<p>"Well, Polly," said he; "did you wonder what was keeping me so late? The -old man"—he meant the head of his old firm—"insisted on my dining with -him, and I couldn't well refuse. Talked about everything as frank and -free as if I'd been his brother—all the business of the old shop—and -said they'd give a hundred pounds to have me back again. By Jove, if it -wasn't for you and the children—no, no, I don't mean that; we're -happiest as we are—or will be when you are well and heartened up a bit. -What do you think, Polly? I'm to take the old Bendigo her next trip. -Watson hasn't had a spell for years, and there's a new baby at his -place; I saw Watson first—he put me up to it—but the old man was -ready to do anything I liked to ask him. 'Certainly,' says he; 'by all -means, and whenever you choose. And bring the missus, of course—only -too proud to have her company on any ship she fancies.' You know he -always thought a deal of you, Polly; I declare he was quite affectionate -in his inquiries after you—never thought he could be so kind and jolly. -I could have got free passages for both of us easy enough, but it's -pleasanter to work for them; and I don't think, somehow, that I could -feel at home in the old Bendigo anywhere but on the bridge."</p> - -<p>"And I should not like to see you anywhere else," I said; "not if we -paid full fares twice over. And how nice not to have to pay, when the -farm is keeping us so short! How nice an arrangement altogether! I can -be upstairs with you—the old man would wish me to do whatever I -liked—and have more liberty than would be possible if another was in -command, and so can you. It's a charming plan! And the Bendigo, -too—our own old Bendigo! Oh, Tom, do you remember <i>that night!</i>"</p> - -<p>It was some years since he had left the boat on board of which he had -been introduced to his eldest son; but whenever we recalled the time -that he was captain of her our first thoughts pictured the moonlit -bridge and the baby; at any rate mine did. And in my terribly deepened -sense of the significance of motherhood nothing could have suited me -better than to go back to the dear place where my mother-life began, for -it did not properly begin until Tom shared it with me. I would sooner -have chosen the Bendigo to have a trip in—if I had the choice—than the -finest yacht or liner going.</p> - -<p>So we went to bed almost happy. And two days later, having been quite -brisk in the interval, safeguarding our home and children as completely -as it could be done, we walked down the familiar wharf, amongst the -bales and cases, to where the steamer lay, feeling exhilarated by the -thought of our coming holiday, as if old times were back again. It was -on the verge of winter now and an exquisite afternoon. Even the filthy -Yarra looked silky and shimmering in the mild sunlight, tinted rose and -mauve by the city smoke; and the vile smells were kept down by the clean -sharpness of the air, so that I did not notice them. We were to sail at -five, but went on board early so that Tom could gather the reins into -his hand and have all shipshape before passengers arrived.</p> - -<p>How pleasant it was to see the way they welcomed him! Mr. Jones was -first officer now (and had babies of his own), and some of the old faces -were amongst the crew. The head steward was the same, and the head -engineer, and the black cook who made pastry so well; and they all -smiled from ear to ear at the sight of their old master, making it quite -evident to me that they had found poor Watson, as they would have found -any one else, an indifferent substitute for him. Above all, there was -the "old man," as he was irreverently styled—the important chief -owner—in person, down on purpose to receive me, with a bouquet for me -in his hand. Dear, kind old man! He was something like Captain Saunders -in his extreme admiration and respect for "pretty Mrs. Braye," as I was -told they called me, and nothing could have been friendlier than his few -words of sympathy for my trouble and his real anxiety to make me -comfortable on board. One might have imagined I was an owner myself by -the fuss they all made over me. It always gratified me—on Tom's -account—that I was never put on a level with the other captains' wives.</p> - -<p>I had the deck cabin again, and we went there for afternoon tea. The -steward brought cakes and tarts and all sorts of unusual things, to do -honour to the special occasion; and I put my flowers in water, wearing a -few of them, and it was all very nice and cheerful. I felt better -already, although we had not stirred from the wharf, and although a New -Zealand boat close by us was turning in the stream, stirring up the dead -cats and things with her propeller, and making a stench so powerful that -it was like pepper to the nose.</p> - -<p>Then, as five o'clock drew near, the "old man" went to look after -business about the ship, and Tom to put on his uniform. How splendid he -looked in it! Almost the only regret I had for his leaving the sea was -that he could no longer wear the clothes which so well became him. Talk -about the fascination of a red coat! I never could see anything in it. -But a sailor in his peaked cap and brass buttons is the finest figure in -the world.</p> - -<p>I was just going to meet him and tell him how nice he looked, when one -of the lady passengers who had been coming on board, and whom I had been -manoeuvring to avoid, cut across my bows, so to speak, and rushed at him -like a whirlwind. I really thought the woman was going to throw her arms -round his neck.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Captain Braye!" she exclaimed loudly, "how too, too charming to see -you here again. Have you come back to the Bendigo for good? Oh, how I -hope you have! Do you know, I was going to Sydney by the mail, and was -actually on my way to the P.&O. office, when somebody told me you were -taking Captain Watson's place. I said at once, 'Then no mail steamers -for me, thank you. No other captain for me if I can get Captain Braye.' -And so here I am. I managed to get packed up in a day and a half."</p> - -<p>I could see that Tom looked quite confused. We had both hoped so much -that the people would all be strangers who would leave us alone, and he -guessed the annoyance I should feel at the threatened curtailment of our -independence by this forward person. But there was no need for him to -inveigle her out of earshot, and there stand and talk to her for ever so -long, as if there were secrets between them not for me to overhear. I -know what she wanted—I heard her ask for it—whether she could have the -deck cabin as before! A very few seconds should have sufficed to answer -<i>that</i> question. She was a stylish person in her way, and her clothes -were good, and the servants paid court to her; I asked one of them who -she was, and he said the "lady" of a merchant of some standing in -Melbourne—just the class of passenger we were most anxious to be -without. When their confabulation was at an end Tom brought her to the -bench where I was sitting and introduced her to me.</p> - -<p>"My wife, Mrs. Harris—Mrs. Harris, dear—who has sailed with me -before."</p> - -<p>"Often," said Mrs. Harris, extending a bejewelled hand. "We are very old -friends, the captain and I."</p> - -<p>"Indeed?" I said, bowing. He had never mentioned her name to me. But, as -he explained when I told him so, he couldn't be expected to remember the -names of the thousands of strangers he carried in the course of the -year. I reminded him that she considered herself not a stranger, but a -friend; and he said, with a laugh, "Oh, they all do that."</p> - -<p>I confess I did not take to Mrs. Harris. I should not have liked any one -coming in our way as she did, when we wanted to be free and peaceful, -but she was particularly repugnant to me. She gushed too much; she -talked too familiarly of Tom—to me also, not discriminating between -one captain's wife and another; and she accosted the servants and -officers as they passed quite as if the ship belonged to her. However, I -stood it as long as she chose to sit there, making herself pleasant, as -she doubtless supposed. As soon as it occurred to her to go and look at -her cabin I seized my hood and cloak, and went to seek sanctuary on the -bridge with Tom. It was nearly six o'clock, and he was just casting off.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Polly," he said, turning to me with a slightly worried air, "you -wouldn't mind staying on deck till we get down the river a bit, would -you, pet? It don't look professional, you know, for ladies to show up -here. And Mrs. Harris might——"</p> - -<p>I interrupted him in what he was going to say, because anything to do -with Mrs. Harris had nothing whatever to do with the case.</p> - -<p>"Passengers," said I, "are one thing—the captain's wife is -another—<i>quite</i> another—and especially when the old man has asked me, -as a sort of favour to himself, to make myself at home, as he calls it. -Is he on the wharf, by the way? I should like to wave a hand to him. It -would please him awfully. Thank Heaven, we are not subject to Mrs. -Harris, nor to anybody else, on board this, ship. That's the beauty of -it."</p> - -<p>"I feel in a sense subject to Watson," said Tom, "and he's a punctilious -sort of chap. I don't care to seem to make too free with his -command—for it's his, not mine. And there are heaps of people about -besides the old man. You really would oblige me very much, Polly——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, of course, dear!"</p> - -<p>I saw his point of view, and at once effaced myself. I went into the -little bridge house, just behind the wheel—he was satisfied with -that—where I could see him close to me through the bow window, and -speak to him when I chose. He lit the candle lamp at the head of the -bunk, so that I could lie there and read; but I did not want to read. I -preferred to stand by the window, which held all there was of table—the -top of drawers and lockers—on which I spread my arms, propping my face -in hollowed palms, and to look out upon the river with the sunset upon -it, and the fading daylight, and the starry lights ashore. To call that -city-skirting stream romantic is to provoke the derision of those who -know it best, but it <i>was</i> romantic that night—to me. Anything can be -romantic under certain circumstances, in certain states of atmosphere -and mind.</p> - -<p>We were alone together. The dinner-bell rang downstairs, but Tom never -left the bridge till he was out of the river, and I did not need to ask -him to let me share his meal. The steward brought us up a tray, and we -stood in the warm little cabin—the table was not made to sit at—and -ate roast chicken and apple pie, like travellers at a railway buffet, -Tom stepping out and back between hasty mouthfuls to see that all was -right. He was intensely business-like, and as happy as a boy at his old -work. We both had the young feeling that comes to holiday-makers who -don't have a holiday very often. I could not help it.</p> - -<p>Then—when we steamed out between the river lights into the bay—how we -sniffed the first breath of the salt sea! And what memories it brought -to us!—to me, at least, who had been so long away from it. The -passengers were at dinner still, and it was falling dark, and there were -no spectators save the man at the wheel, who was nothing but a voice, an -echo of the quiet word of command, most pleasant to hear; I was free to -roam the bridge from end to end, hanging to my husband's supporting -arm—to bathe myself in air that was literally new life to both of us. -Cold and clean and briny to the lips—oh, what is there to equal it in -the way of medicine for soul and body? What sort of insensate creatures -can they be who do not love the sea?</p> - -<p>Hobson's Bay was ruffled with a south wind—belted round with twinkling -lights that grew thicker and brighter every moment, a gleaming ring of -stars set in the otherwise invisible shores, in a dusk as soft as -velvet. Somewhere amongst them, doubtless, was the lighted window that -had once been mine, where I used to stand half a dozen lamps and candles -in a bunch, to show Tom that I was watching for him when he used to pass -out after nightfall. Our eyes turned in that direction simultaneously.</p> - -<p>"When we are old folks, Polly," said he, with an arm round my shoulder, -"when the kids are all grown up and out in the world, and you and I -settle down alone again, as we did at the beginning, I should like us to -have a little place somewhere where we could see blue water and the -ships going by."</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said at once, feeling exactly as he did—that though the farm -and our country home were well enough under present circumstances, they -would not be our choice when we had only ourselves to think of—that the -sea was the sea, in short, and had reclaimed our allegiance—"yes, that -is what we will do. We will end our married life where we began it—with -this beautiful sound in our ears!"</p> - -<p>We had turned the breakwater at Williamstown, and were meeting the wind -and tide of the outer bay, which was a little ocean this fresh night. -The sharp bows of the Bendigo, and her threshing screw astern, made that -noise of racing waves and running foam which was thrilling me like music -and champagne together, so that I had no words to describe the -sensation. My hair was blown hard back from my forehead and out of the -control of hairpins; my face felt as if smacked by an open hand, and I -had to screw up my eyes and pinch my lips together to stand the blow; I -felt the keen blast pierce to my skin through all the invalid wrappings -that I was swathed in—and it was lovely! Tom thought I should catch -cold, but I knew better, though I was glad to be tied into his 'possum -rug, with an oilskin overall to take the flying spray; and I insisted on -staying out with him till nearly midnight—till we had passed the -furious Rip and were battling with the real swell of the real ocean, -which tossed the steamer like a cork without making me seasick. It was -squally and galey and dark as a wolf's mouth—neither moon nor -stars—only the lighthouse lights which were all we needed, and the -white streaks in the black sea which were the long rollers coming to -meet us. And I felt as safe as—there is nothing that can give a notion -of how safe I felt. My husband took care of me as he used to do on the -Racer, only fifty thousand times more carefully, because he was my -husband. Ah, how sweet it was! With all our sorrows, how happy we were! -And might have remained so if we had not been interfered with.</p> - -<p>But that wretched woman spoiled it all. I had forgotten her altogether -during the evening, when dinner and darkness and the rough weather kept -her from us; I forgot her in the night, which I spent in my deck cabin -so as to leave Tom his bunk on the bridge for such snatches of sleep as -he had a mind for; the deck as well as the cabin was my own—his and -mine, for he still came down at intervals to look at me through the open -door and assure himself that I was all right—and the common herd were -under it. But when I emerged in the morning, just as the breakfast-bell -was ringing, the first thing I saw was Mrs. Harris coming down the -stairs which had "no admittance" plainly affixed to them, and Tom in -attendance on her as if she were the Queen. She descended backwards, -feeling each step with her glittering pointed shoe, slower than any -tortoise, and he guided her with one hand and held her skirts down with -the other, out of the wind. It was a windy morning, but sunshiny and -beautiful, and I had intended to enjoy my first meal in the air and in -privacy with my husband, as I had done the last.</p> - -<p>I suppose I looked my surprise, for they both seemed to colour up when -they perceived me standing and watching them. In one breath they bade me -a loud good morning, and made unnecessary announcements about the -weather.</p> - -<p>"You have been on the bridge?" I questioned, with my eyes fixed on the -brass plate which proclaimed the bridge sacred.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Harris gaily. "It's the nicest place I know to be -on, especially at this time of day. Many an early visit have I paid the -captain up there, haven't I, Captain?"</p> - -<p>I lifted eyebrows at Tom, but he would not look.</p> - -<p>"Got an appetite for breakfast, Polly?" he shouted, taking my arm. "Come -along, and let's see if you don't do your doctor credit."</p> - -<p>"I am not going to the saloon," I returned quietly, disengaging myself; -"I am going to have my breakfast on the bridge with you."</p> - -<p>"But I'm not going to breakfast there. I'm off duty, and we may as well -be comfortable when we can."</p> - -<p>Then he congratulated us both on being such good sailors as to be able -to go to breakfast the first morning, and, not to make a fuss, I let him -take me down into the saloon, and seat me at the public table by his -side, <i>vis-à-vis</i> with Mrs. Harris. He spoke to other passengers, -shaking hands with some, and introducing me to one or two. A rather -nice man talked to me throughout the meal, while Mrs. Harris monopolised -Tom entirely.</p> - -<p>This was not what I had come to sea for, and so, as soon as I had -finished, I slipped away, ran up to the bridge, got out a little chair, -and prepared for a quiet morning with my husband, where no one had the -right to disturb us. In fact, I was fully resolved to defend that -bridge, if need were, against unauthorized intruders. Mrs. Harris might -have done what she liked with it and him in those old times that she was -for ever flinging in my face. She would not do it now.</p> - -<p>Scarcely had I opened my workbag and threaded my needle when up she came -as bold as brass, with a yellow-back under her arm. It was too much. I -felt that, if I were to make any stand at all, it must be now or never, -or I should be altogether trodden under foot. So I looked at her with an -air of calm inquiry, and said, "Oh! Mrs. Harris—do you want anything?"</p> - -<p>"No, thanks," she replied in an off-hand tone. "The steward is bringing -up my chair."</p> - -<p>"Bringing it <i>up?—here?</i>"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Only that—perhaps you don't know—nobody is allowed on the bridge. The -notice is stuck up against the stairs."</p> - -<p>"Then why are you here?" she retorted, bristling.</p> - -<p>"I am the captain's wife."</p> - -<p>"I presume the captain's wife is as much a passenger as the rest of us," -she argued, with an offensive laugh. "I presume the captain can do what -he likes with his own bridge, at any rate. If <i>he</i> gives one the freedom -of the city, one certainly has it, beyond question; and I have always -been accustomed to sit here when travelling with him. Thank you, -steward—in this corner, please."</p> - -<p>She took possession of her chair.</p> - -<p>"If one person has the freedom of the city," I said, trying to keep my -voice from shaking, "all should have it. He has no business to make -distinctions where all are equal."</p> - -<p>"All are not equal," she cried, reddening. And I remembered that she was -a considerable person in her own eyes. But I said firmly, "Pardon me. -All who pay the same fares are on the same footing—or should be. And -there is not room here for everybody."</p> - -<p>"The captain," said she, "can entertain his friends as he chooses, and I -am one of his oldest friends, besides being related to his owners. And -as for his having no business to do this or that—oh, my dear Mrs. -Braye, do allow the poor man to know his own business best—I assure you -he knows it perfectly, nobody better—and let him be master, at any -rate, on his ship, whatever he may be in his home."</p> - -<p>She laughed again, as she settled herself and opened her book. I was -simply speechless with indignation. But, even had I been able to speak, -I was not one to bandy words with that sort of person. I just rolled up -my work, quietly rose, and went downstairs to my cabin on deck.</p> - -<p>"Why do you go away?" she asked, as I passed her. "Isn't the bridge big -enough for us both?"</p> - -<p>"No," I replied. And that was my last word to her.</p> - -<p>Going down the stairs, I met Tom coming up. He said, "Hullo, Polly, -where are you off to?" I looked at him steadily—that's all. And his -face clouded over. He passed on, leaving me alone.</p> - -<p>But they were not long together. Five minutes later I heard her voice -suddenly through the open port of my cabin—that horrible deck cabin, -where I was surrounded and pressed upon by talking, boot-clumping -passengers, who just could not spy in upon me because I had door shut -and window curtain down. Doubtless she did it on purpose. She must have -known where I was, seeing that I was not on the bridge or sitting out on -deck. She was speaking to some man of her acquaintance.</p> - -<p>"It is always a mistake," she said, "for captains to have their wives on -board. I wonder the owners allow it. It spoils the comfort of the other -passengers—who, after all, are the chief persons to be considered—and -demoralises the poor fellows to such an extent that they are not like -the same men. Look at Captain Braye, whom I've known for ages—the -dearest old boy you can imagine when he's let alone—it's pitiful to see -him henpecked and cowed, and afraid to call his soul his own, shaking in -his very shoes before that vixen of a woman!" Her companion said -something that I could not hear—I believe it was my pleasant neighbour -at breakfast whom she was trying to set against me—and then she put on -the crowning touch. "It is always the fate of those exceptionally nice -men," said she, "to marry women who don't know how to appreciate them."</p> - -<p>I wondered for a moment if I could have heard aright. It was hard to -believe in such consummate insolence—such a wild, malignant, perversion -of facts. To talk of <i>Tom</i> as a henpecked husband! To dub <i>me</i>, of all -people in the world, a vixen!! To say that I—<i>I</i>—did not appreciate -him!!! The thing was too utterly ludicrous to be taken seriously, and -yet it made me so angry that I could hardly contain myself. It made me -feel that it would have been a pleasure to rush out upon her and tear -her hair from her head, just like the real vixens do. I felt that my -husband, who was also the commander of the ship, ought to have spared me -this gross indignity, which could not have occurred if he had respected -his position, and kept himself to himself.</p> - -<p>Knowing that she was not with him now, I went back to the bridge. But -alas and alas! The bridge, that had been a little paradise, was a place -despoiled. Though the serpent had gone out of it, she had been there and -poisoned everything. Tom was not the same to me. All the pleasure of our -trip was at an end. I had a wretched day, and at night a gale came on, -and I was seasick for the first time. He did not know it, and I would -not send for him. Oh, it was horrible! It was tragical! It was -heart-breaking! I can't talk about it any more.</p> - -<hr style="width: 45%;" /> - -<p>People came to meet her at Sydney, but she could not leave without a -ceremonious good-bye to her dear captain. She was calling for him -everywhere while he was busy making fast, and when she got him she shook -hands two or three times over, standing apart with him as at first, -regardless of me. Goodness knows I did not want to intrude, yet it was -impossible to help noticing the fuss she made. I heard her say—I am -quite <i>sure</i> I heard her—that she was coming back with us; meaning, of -course, with him. She explained that she had but a day's business to do -in Sydney, and would then be able to return by the "dear old Bendigo"—I -distinctly caught those three words, in her high-pitched voice. And I -thought to myself that this would really be more than I could -stand—more than I could in reason be expected to stand. In fact, I was -so enraged that I was strongly tempted to put it to my husband that he -must make his choice between her and me. However, on second thoughts, I -perceived that it would be more dignified to say nothing, but to let my -acts speak for me. We had never been accustomed to bicker between -ourselves, he and I, and to a certain extent he was not responsible for -the situation. Any one not suffering from madness or an infectious -disease had the right to travel in the ship; he could not help it. But -if he could not turn the otherwise objectionable person off, he could -keep him or her in the passengers' proper place. My grievance with him -was that he did not keep that woman in her place.</p> - -<p>Being quite determined not to have another voyage with her, and not -wishing to say nasty things to him about it, I was glad when an old -acquaintance, paying us a call on board, asked me to stay awhile with -her, for the further benefit of my health, representing that the time -covered by the sea trip was all too short to recruit in.</p> - -<p>"Thank you very much," I answered, on the spur of the moment. "I really -think I will. I was never in Sydney but once, and then I had no chance -to see the beauties of the place, of which I have heard so much; and I -daresay it would do me good to have a longer change."</p> - -<p>I was aware of Tom's utter, silent astonishment, but I would not look at -him; I left him to read the riddle for himself. When he spoke it was to -quietly fall in with the proposal, adding suggestions that would have -made it difficult for me to draw back if I had wanted to do so. He was -so ready to leave me, indeed, that I fancied he <i>wanted</i> to get rid of -me—of course he did not, but any one would have thought so—and -naturally that made me bitter. I spoke but little to him afterwards, and -he was certainly cold to me—-he seemed to divine my suspicions and to -resent them—and I did not go to see him off; I could not. In short, our -holiday was entirely and irreparably ruined.</p> - -<p>I believe I cried nearly the whole time that I was in Sydney. It did -seem hard, in my state of health and under the sad circumstances, to be -stranded amongst strangers, who did not understand my sorrows, nor my -habits of life, and gave me none of the little pettings and coddlings -that I needed and was accustomed to; and the thought of that woman going -home with Tom, having the deck cabin, sitting on the bridge with him of -nights, making free with the whole ship, usurping my place and -privileges, drove me simply frantic—until one day I met her in the -street, and found she had not gone with him after all.</p> - -<p>Shaken all to pieces with the awful overland journey, more dead than -alive, I reached home a day or two after him, and discovered him calmly -digging the garden, as if he had forgotten my very existence. When he -saw me he smiled in an odd, constrained way, and said, as though it -didn't matter one way or the other: "Well, Polly? Had about enough of -it?"</p> - -<p>Angry as I was with him, I could not maintain any dignity at all—I was -too spent and weary. I broke down completely, and he took me into the -tool-shed to comfort me—took me into his arms, where I had simply ached -to be ever since I had left them, driven out by that detestable little -scheming, mischief-making snake-in-the-grass.</p> - -<p>"Oh," I sobbed, when I could find words and strength to utter them, "how -<i>could</i> you leave me behind? How <i>could</i> you abandon me like that, when -I was so ill and unhappy?"</p> - -<p>"Because," said he, "you wanted to be left. You distinctly asked and -were determined to be left. As for abandoning—it's I that was -abandoned, it seems to me."</p> - -<p>"You <i>knew</i> I did not want to be left," I urged—for of course he knew. -"You must have seen that I only did it because I was vexed."</p> - -<p>"And what were you vexed about?" he inquired. "I must be too dense and -stupid for anything, but I'll be shot if I can understand you this time, -Polly."</p> - -<p>I told him that he was dense and stupid indeed, or he would not need to -ask the question. But when I told him, further, what it was that had -vexed me, he said that in some ways, when it came to denseness and -stupidity, he was not a patch on me.</p> - -<p>Of course it was not his fault in the very least. It was all hers.</p> - -<hr style="width: 45%;" /> - -<p>P.S.—I have forgiven her now. Poor thing, it was only a manner with -her; she meant no harm. I did not see it then—no one could have seen -it, and I do not blame myself for being imposed on by appearances that -would have deceived a very angel, which I confess I am not, though the -least suspicious and uncharitable of women—but I became convinced of it -afterwards.</p> - -<p>It was when my Harry was made <i>dux</i> of his school, a year later than he -would have been but for the favouritism of a master, who deliberately -miscalculated examination marks. Harry, by the way, will not allow that -this was the case, but that is his modesty and his feeling for the -honour of the school; he does not know as much about it as I do. I was -told on the best authority that he ought to have had the position, being -far and away (as I well knew) the cleverest boy, and that a certain -master had a "set" or "down" on him because he had caricatured the -wretch on the blackboard. It was another sixth-form fellow who said he -felt sure the figures must be wrong when he heard the result.</p> - -<p>However, there was no mistake about it this time. I, at any rate, was -sure of it, when I dressed for the Speech Day function, although the -names in the prize list were supposed to be unknown beforehand. Besides, -I had only to look at his face, calmly elated, the eyes twinkling with -suppressed excitement, to see that he had the secret—to be assured that -his merits were to meet their just reward at last. But there were some -mothers who allowed their mother's partiality to run away with them. I -heard of two who, up to the last moment, fully expected <i>their</i> sons to -come out top. And Mrs. Harris was one of these.</p> - -<p>There was some justification for hope on her part, because young Harris -was really a very industrious, plodding fellow, and had always given a -good account of himself. He had not half Harry's brains, of course, but -he had great application and perseverance, and the moral of the hare -and tortoise fable is often exemplified in these cases. Especially when -the hare is such an all-round genius as my boy, a prize-taker for -goal-kicking, the mile handicap and the long jump, as well as for work -in class. Several times I had heard Harry say, with quite a serious air, -that the only one he was afraid of was Harris, and they stuck very close -together through the examinations, as far as the figures were known. So -when she crushed into the seat in front of me, gorgeously dressed and -beaming, nodding to right and left, I saw how it was. She was prepared -for any amount of envious notice and congratulation, quite thinking she -was going to outshine me. I smiled—I could not help it. But I was glad -afterwards that she had not seen me smile.</p> - -<p>I was also glad that Tom had not been able to accompany us this time, -though grieved for the cause—an accident to his foot while -tree-chopping. Our proximity to the maker of so much trouble in the -past, as to which we were still sore and reticent, might have rendered -the situation uncomfortable and altered its development altogether. -Harry had escorted me and his eldest sister—she a perfect dream, though -I say it, in pink cambric and a white muslin hat—and had now left us to -go and sit with his comrades at the back of the hall, whence a deafening -noise arose continuously, most exhilarating to hear. Dear lads! I -screwed my head round to look and laugh at their delightful antics, and -the figure of my fine boy leading all the revelry, until Phyllis's face -showed her sense of the indecorum of the proceeding. Children are so -dreadfully proper where their parents are concerned, and I am always -forgetting that I have to sit up and look dignified if I would have -their approval and respect.</p> - -<p>When the hall was crowded so that not another creature could squeeze -into it, a fresh demonstration heralded the entrance of the headmaster, -hooded and gowned, escorting the distinguished visitors, chief of whom -was the Exalted Personage who had consented to distribute the prizes. -They packed the daïs, round the book-piled table; the boys yelled and -thumped the floor with their boot-heels, sung a Latin hymn with all -their might, subsided with difficulty, and allowed the formal -proceedings to begin. I sat in a perfect simmer of joyous excitement and -expectation, fully equal to theirs, and I noticed that Mrs. Harris's -face was flushed and that she kept smiling to herself in a vague way, -restless and fidgety. Poor thing! Her boy was an only son, like mine, -and she was one of those many love-blind mothers who mistake their geese -for swans. I saw quite plainly that she had no suspicion of the truth, -and was sorry for her. Some one ought to have given her a hint.</p> - -<p>The headmaster read his annual report—every paragraph punctuated with -vociferous cheers from the back benches—and the Exalted Personage made -a speech, unnecessarily diffuse. Then there was a shuffling and -whispering and readjustment of the blocks of books on the table, the -E.P. advanced to the front of the daïs, the H.M. lined up beside him -with his list, and after a few little preliminaries (the awarding of a -couple of scholarships) the great moment arrived. Although I had known -so certainly what would happen, when it did happen I literally jumped -from my seat.</p> - -<p>"<i>Dux</i> of School—<i>Henry Thomas Beauchamp Braye.</i>"</p> - -<p>My heart seemed to leap into my throat, I clasped my hands, I suppose I -made some exclamation unconsciously, for Phyllis plucked at my sleeve -and whispered "Hush-sh!" quite fiercely. The child was not grown-up -then, but still thought herself competent to teach me how to behave in -public. She sat herself like any stock or stone, an image of propriety, -as if it was a matter of no concern to her at all that her brother was -set on the highest pinnacle of honour that a schoolboy could reach.</p> - -<p>He came striding up the hall like a young prince, with none of that shy -awkwardness which made the other boys look so clumsy, and his mates -cheered him to the echo as he mounted the platform to receive his load -of prize-books and the congratulations of all the great folks. I never -saw anything prettier than his quiet bows, his modest and yet dignified -bearing, and his kind way with the fellows who crowded up to shake hands -with him when he came down amongst them again, helping him to carry his -trophies and making a regular royal progress of his return to his seat. -I noticed young Harris amongst the first of these, and thought to myself -that a defeated rival who could behave so nicely to the successful one -must have the essential spirit of a gentleman in him. And I found it was -so when I came to know him.</p> - -<p>A little later, when the lesser prizes were being disposed of, and the -interest of the proceedings was not so all-absorbing—as I just sat in -placid ecstasy, thinking of nothing but my own happiness—a movement in -front of me brought his poor mother to my mind. She had ceased to -fidget, and I had forgotten to notice her. Now she rose slowly, in a -fumbling sort of way, remarking to a lady near her that the heat of the -hall was insufferable and was making her faint. It was very hot, and -she looked faint, with all the colour gone from her cheeks and her lips -twitching and trembling; but, oh, <i>I</i> knew what the trouble was! Poor, -stricken soul! She felt just as I should have felt had I been in her -place—just as I had felt a year ago when told that that pig-faced -Middleton boy had ousted Harry—and my heart bled for her. Of course she -pretended not to see me as she passed out—I should have done the same -had our positions been reversed—and must have almost wanted to murder -me, indeed; but—well, mothers have a fellow-feeling at these times, -under all the feelings common to humanity at large. I could not resist -the impulse that came to me. She had no sooner disappeared through the -nearest door, seeking the fresh air for her faintness, than I, defiant -of my daughter's dumb protests, got up and went out after her.</p> - -<p>She was leaning against the grey wall, holding her handkerchief to her -eyes. When she heard me she turned and glared, like a strange cat that -you have penned into a corner. The next moment we were in each other's -arms, and she was sobbing on my neck with the abandonment of a child.</p> - -<p>And we have been the greatest friends ever since.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h3> - -<h3>DEPOSED.</h3> - - -<p>The little sound that is as common as silence—a familiar step, a -murmured word, an opening door—one hears it a thousand times with -contented indifference, as one hears the singing of the tea-kettle. But -one day it falls on the heart as well as on the ear, like the stroke of -a swift sword. It seems exactly the same, but one knows at once that it -is not the same. In the twentieth part of a second one recognises the -voice of a dire calamity—especially if one is a mother, and has heard -it before.</p> - -<p>Tom came into the house by way of the kitchen, and I heard him say to -Jane, in quite a quiet tone, "Where's Mrs. Braye?" That was all. I -sprang from my chair, wild with terror, dropping my needlework to the -floor. For I knew—I knew—I didn't want to be told—that something had -happened to Harry. My boy! my boy! I had been scolding him, only an hour -ago, for making love to Lily's governess—a minx, whom I had just -requested to find another situation—and he had slammed the door almost -in my face on leaving me. I had been longing for Tom to come in, that I -might tell him all about it, and have a little cry on his shoulder, and -my dignity and authority in the house supported; but now that he was -here my tongue was paralysed. And I had no grievance, but an -immeasurable remorse.</p> - -<p>"Don't be frightened," said my husband, trembling, in a would-be -off-hand voice, "it's nothing very serious—just a bad shaking—I told -him that new mare of his wasn't to be trusted, and there was a nasty -stone just where she threw him. He's stunned a bit, that's all—no bones -broken. I have sent for the doctor. Now look here, Polly——"</p> - -<p>He opened his arms across the doorway, but I broke through them -furiously. Did he remember the night when little Bobby shot himself, -trying to get an opossum skin for his mother's birthday? I was not kept -back then. We ran together, hand in hand, to meet our common woe, and I -was first at the spot, and it was on my breast that he lay to breathe -his last. Why not now, when a worse thing had befallen me? No, I don't -mean that; nothing could be worse—except that every year your child is -with you adds innumerable fresh strands to the rope of woven -heart-strings already binding you to him, and thus makes more to bleed -and ache when the wrench comes. And Harry was -twenty-three—twenty-three, and over six feet, and the handsomest young -fellow in the whole country! I flew full speed to find him, and see what -they were doing to him. It was my mother's right, which a dozen fathers -should not deprive me of.</p> - -<p>At the garden gate I met the procession coming in. They carried him -carefully on a mattress, over saplings roped together. A little rabble -of people followed, one of them leading the fiend that had done the -mischief, a vicious, half-broken, buck-jumping brute that had worried us -for a long time, although Harry always trusted his own fine horsemanship -to get the better of her tantrums. And rightly, too. If he had not been -in a bad temper, poor darling, and doubtless running risks for the -perverse satisfaction of doing so, because of the mood he was in, -nothing in the shape of a horse could have thrown him. He was -notoriously the best rider of the day—at any rate, of our -neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>I slammed the gate to shut out everybody, and the bearers lowered his -litter, and I bent over him. He did not know me. When I leaned down to -listen if he breathed, I saw a little bubble of blood oozing from his -mouth; then I knew that he was more than stunned—that it was worse even -than broken bones. I left off crying, and became quite calm. I had to.</p> - -<p>We were sliding him from the mattress to his bed when Dr. Juke arrived, -and he made us stop and let him do it; for, though my poor lad seemed -unconscious, he panted and grunted in a way that showed we were hurting -him, with all our care. The doctor felt and lifted his limbs, and said -they were all right, and then undressed him as he lay; I got my large -cutting-out scissors, and we hacked his good clothes to pieces—but that -didn't matter—until we left him only his shirt and woollen singlet, and -even those we cut. And just as we were finishing making him comfortable, -as we hoped, he came to and looked at us. My precious boy! His breathing -was short and fluttery, and he seemed too full of pain to speak, except -in gasps.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my side! my side!"</p> - -<p>He wailed like a child—a sound to drive a mother mad.</p> - -<p>Dr. Juke said, "Ah, I thought so." And, having made a little -examination, he reported a fracture of the ribs, with some injury to the -lung. He whispered something to Tom, and then told me I had better send -for a trained nurse, and said it would be as well to get a good surgeon -from town also, so as to be on the safe side.</p> - -<p>I was willing enough to send for a dozen surgeons—though I had perfect -faith in Juke, who was a clever young man, newly out from home and up to -date, an enthusiast in his profession—but I could not bear the thought -of a professional nurse. I knew those women—how they take possession of -your nearest and dearest, and treat even an old mother as if she were a -mere outsider and an utter ignoramus. I protested that I could do all -that was necessary—that no one could possibly take the care of him that -I should. Was it likely?</p> - -<p>"But he will probably want nursing all day and all night for weeks," -said Dr. Juke. "You could not do that unaided. You would break down, and -then where would he be?"</p> - -<p>"I will telegraph for my daughter," I rejoined. Phyllis was away at the -time, visiting.</p> - -<p>"Miss Braye is too young and inexperienced," he objected, with the airs -of a grandfather. "It would not be fair to her. She is better where she -is, out of all the trouble. However, there is no need to decide -immediately. We'll see the night through first. All we can do for the -present is to make him as easy as possible and watch symptoms. The -<i>most</i> important thing is not to meddle with him."</p> - -<p>This seemed a hard saying, and at first I could not credit it. It was -terrible to see nothing done, when he evidently suffered so—more and -more as the first shock passed and the dreadful fever rose and rose; but -while the lung was letting blood and air into the cavity of the chest, -which could not be reached to stop the leak, handling of any sort only -aggravated the mischief. The doctor explained this to me when I was -impatient, and I had to own that he was probably right. He asked me to -see about drinks and nourishment, and when I left the room to do so I -had a mind to seize the opportunity for a few frantic tears in private, -impelled by the pent-up anguish I could not otherwise relieve.</p> - -<p>But outside the door—Harry's door—I came upon Miss Blount. The little -fool was crying herself—as if it were any concern of hers!—and looked -a perfect sight with her swelled nose and sodden cheeks. Somehow I -couldn't stand it, on the top of all the rest—I just took her by the -arm and marched her back to the schoolroom. I hope I was not rough or -unkind—I really don't think I was—but to see her you would have -thought she was a ridiculous little martyr being led to the stake. I -said to her—quite quietly, without making any fuss—"My dear, while you -remain in this house—until the notice I have been compelled by our -contract to give you has expired—oblige me by keeping in your proper -place and confining your attention to your proper business."</p> - -<p>Just as if I had not spoken—and I am sure she never heard a word—she -turned on me at the schoolroom door and clutched at my dress. With both -hands she held on to me, so that I really could not get away from her.</p> - -<p>"Oh, tell me, tell me," she cried, with a lackadaisical whine, as if we -were playing melodrama at a cheap theatre, "<i>What</i> does the doctor say? -Is he, oh, <i>is</i> he going to die?"</p> - -<p>I replied—cuttingly, I am afraid—that the doctor seemed perfectly -well. There was no sign of dying, that I could see, about him.</p> - -<p>Then she said "Harry!" Yes, to my very face! As if she had a right to -call my son by his christian name. I was greatly exasperated; any mother -would have been—especially after what had happened.</p> - -<p>I answered, "<i>Mr</i>. Harry <i>is</i> going to die—<i>thanks to you</i>, Miss -Blount."</p> - -<p>I truly believed that he was, and I honestly thought that it was her -doing; because if she had not misconducted herself, and tempted him to -do so, I should not have had to scold him, and he would not have gone -out in a rage, to ride a young horse recklessly. Still, it has occurred -to me since that perhaps I was not quite just to her, poor thing.</p> - -<p>Oh, what a night that was! Temperature 103 degrees, and a short, -agonising cough catching the hurt side, which he was obliged to lie on, -because the other lung had to do the work of both. We padded him with -the softest pillows in the house, and tried ice, and -sedatives—everything we could think of; but we could not soothe the -struggling chest, which was the only way to stop the inward bleeding. -And he kept up a sort of grinding moan, like a long "u" in French—worse -than shrieks. It was too, too cruel! I wonder my hair did not turn -white.</p> - -<p>Next day we got the surgeon from town; the day after, the nurse. But I -came to an understanding with her before she set foot in Harry's room. I -bade her remember that he was my son, and that a mother could not -consent to be superseded. She asked if she were to be allowed to carry -out the doctor's orders, and when I said "Yes, of course," she seemed -satisfied. She was a good creature. After all, I don't know what we -should have done without her. There is a limit to one's strength, and -though Phyllis was a great help outside the sick-room, we did not think -it right—Dr. Juke did not think it right—to let her be much in it.</p> - -<p>She came home as soon as she heard what had happened, in spite of his -advice. I went downstairs one day, and found her sitting in the deserted -drawing-room, with her hat on, talking to him; I thought he had gone an -hour ago, but he had seen her arriving, and stayed to break things to -her and give her all the particulars, before she met the rest of us. He -was somewhat inclined to be officious, though he meant well.</p> - -<p>I exclaimed in astonishment at the sight of her.</p> - -<p>"It was no good, mother; I had to come," said she, rising quickly and -taking out her hat-pins. "And I did not warn you, for fear you should -prevent me. Don't scold me—Dr. Juke doesn't. I want to help, and he -says I can be a lot of use."</p> - -<p>"Invaluable," said Juke, in a young man's gushing manner. "It was only -for your own sake, Miss Phyllis, that I wished you out of it."</p> - -<p>She is not Miss Phyllis, by the way, but Miss Braye.</p> - -<p>"I mean to be everybody's right hand," she continued, trying to cheer -me. "We are not going to let you kill yourself any more, mother dear. -And we are not going to let Harry die, either—are we, Dr. Juke?"</p> - -<p>"No, no," replied the doctor, with an exaggerated air of reassuring me, -as if pacifying a timid child. "We'll pull him through amongst us. The -sight of your face"—it was not my face he meant—"will be the best -medicine he can have. Only, remember, you must not talk to him."</p> - -<p>"I know—I know. You will find that I shall be discretion itself."</p> - -<p>She was quite gay. I could see that she did not yet realise the -situation, poor child, whatever Juke had told her about it. But when I -took her upstairs, and showed her the changed face in the sick-room, she -was shocked enough. She and her brother were devoted to each other. They -used to go to their little parties and entertainments together, and -everybody used to remark upon their looks and say what a handsome pair -they made. He thought—that is, he used to think, before other girls -spoiled him—that there was no one like his sister Phyllis, and she -thought the same of him. Nevertheless, when I told her of his conduct -with Miss Blount, she was quite indignant. She said she would never have -believed it of him. At the same time she was firmly convinced, as I was, -that Miss Blount had done the love-making and led him on. What a comfort -it was to have my dear girl to talk to and confide in! She was not only -a lovely young creature—though I say it—but had the sense of an old -woman. Lily was quite different. But then Lily was a child—barely -seventeen—and she had an absurd infatuation for her governess, such as -you often see in a raw schoolgirl. It was a stupid mistake on my part to -engage a person of twenty-two to teach her—I saw it now; and I think it -a still greater mistake to confer University degrees on such young -women. You seem to expect them to be above the imbecilities of ordinary -girls, and they are not a bit.</p> - -<p>Well, we shut them up together in a separate part of the house, giving -them their meals in the schoolroom. We did not want Lily to be losing -the education we were paying so much for, and Tom and I just took our -food as we could get it. We had no heart to sit down to table. Sometimes -he slept for a little, and sometimes I, but one or the other of us was -always on guard; while Phyllis prepared the iced milk and soda, and -waited on the nurse and doctor. Certainly the doctor was most devoted; -he could not have done more for his patient if he had been his own -brother.</p> - -<p>I am sure it was the opinion of his medical colleague that Harry could -never pull through. He said, in so many words, that the case was as -grave as possible, owing chiefly, as I understood, to the accumulation -of fluid in the chest, which could not be mechanically dealt with. -Nevertheless, the dear boy rallied a little, and then a little more—the -fever keeping down in the daytime, and not running quite so high at -night—until it really seemed that we might begin to hope. He was such a -splendid young fellow, and had such a magnificent constitution! But for -that I am convinced he could not have survived an hour. One afternoon he -was sleeping so comfortably that they all insisted on my going out for -some fresh air. Tom took me for a walk round the garden, and we planned -what we would do for our beloved one when he got well—how we would go -for a little travel to amuse and cheer him, to recruit his strength and -distract his mind from nonsense.</p> - -<p>When I returned, I found that he had awakened from his sleep, calm and -refreshed; that he had asked to see his sister Lily, and—that that fool -of a nurse had allowed it! Oh, I could have shaken her! As it was, I -gave her a talking to that she sulked over for a week. Lily, she said, -had only remained with him ten minutes—as if one minute wouldn't have -been enough to undo all our work! <i>Idiot!</i> And to call herself a trained -nurse, too!</p> - -<p>As soon as I approached his bed I saw the difference. Not only had he -been doing so well, he had been so nice to me, so loving and gentle, as -if feeling that all was right between us. Now he was flushed—I knew his -temperature had gone up again—and he looked at me as if I were his -enemy instead of his mother.</p> - -<p>"Is it true," he said, "that you have given Miss Blount notice?"</p> - -<p>I did not know what to say. Seeing the absolute necessity for keeping -him quiet, I tried to put the question aside. But he would have an -answer.</p> - -<p>"Dearest," I pleaded, "I am doing for the best. And you will be the -first to acknowledge it when you are yourself again. It is for her -sake," I added, though I'm sure I don't know why I said that.</p> - -<p>He continued to look at me as if I were a graven image, insensible to -the tears that filled my eyes. And he looked <i>so</i> handsome—even in this -wreck of health—a fit husband for a queen.</p> - -<p>"Mother," he said, in a stern way, "if you do a thing so unjust as that -I will never forgive you."</p> - -<p>Ah, Harry! Harry! And after all I had done for him—slaving night and -day! After all the love and care, the heart's blood, that I had lavished -on him for nearly twenty-four years!</p> - -<p>"Unjust!" I repeated, cut to the quick. "My boy, I may have my faults—I -daresay I have—nobody is perfect in this world; but my worst enemy -cannot lay it to my charge that I have ever committed an injustice."</p> - -<p>He smiled, but it was a hard smile. And the nurse came up, as bold as -you please, to tell me I must be silent, as I was exciting him. <i>I</i> -exciting him! It was then I gave her that talking to.</p> - -<p>Well, he had been getting on as satisfactorily as possible up to this -point. But now, of course, he went back. His temperature was 104 degrees -in the night, and he complained of pains and uneasiness, and turned -against his nourishment, light and liquid as it was. When he did get a -snatch of sleep, his breathing was as restless as possible. Sometimes it -went fast, and sometimes it seemed to stop, and then he would suddenly -give a deep snore, and a jump that hurt his side and roused him. After -which he would lie still a little while, staring at the wall. His eyes -were full of fever, and presently he began to talk, and we could not -make out what he was saying, except that little huzzy's name—Emily. He -kept saying "Emily"—no, "Emmie"—as if he thought she was in the same -room. Once I fancied he called me, and when I went to him he put up his -poor hands—already so thin and bleached!—and I thought he wanted to be -forgiven and be friends with his mother again. But, just as I was -dropping on my knees beside him to take him into my arms, he said, "Kiss -me, Emmie." And, oh, in such a voice! It made me feel—but I can't -describe how it made me feel.</p> - -<p>And next day he had a shivering fit, and the day after another, with -more fever than ever when they had passed off—a thirst like fire, and -pain in breathing, and delirium, and everything that was bad and -hopeless. Dr. Juke said it meant blood-poisoning, and that he had -expected it from the first; but I did not believe it. For was he not -doing beautifully up to the moment when Lily was allowed to see him and -upset him with her tales? This time we sent for two doctors from -Melbourne, and they and Juke were closeted together for an hour after -making their examination; and, when they came out at last, they said -they were agreed that our boy was in so desperate a state that nothing -short of a miracle could save him.</p> - -<p>I called the girls into my room to break it to them, and we sat on the -sofa at the foot of my bed and had our cry together. I was completely -broken down. So was poor Lily. She sobbed so violently that I was afraid -Harry would hear her. Phyllis was more composed—she always was—and -refused to despair as long as life was in him. She professed contempt -for the great doctors, and pinned her faith to Juke. Juke had told her -that miracles, in his profession, were constantly happening, and that -for his part he did not mean to give up the fight until all was over.</p> - -<p>"I believe, mother," said my brave girl, "that he will succeed, after -all, in spite of those old fogies. He knows a lot more than they do, and -he says there's no calculating the power of youth and a sound -constitution in these cases. He says——"</p> - -<p>But I was too wretched to listen to her. They were not old fogies to -me—those two experienced men—and a young doctor is but a young doctor, -however clever; I found it impossible to hope at this juncture. Lily was -kneeling by me with her arms round my waist, quite hysterical with -grief; and for the moment I felt that she was more in sympathy with me -than her sister. I realised my mistake when the child suddenly sprang to -her feet, hitting my chin with her head as she did so, and declared that -she must go to "poor Miss Blount."</p> - -<p>"Lily," I cried, as she was flinging out of the room in her impetuous -fashion, "what are strangers at such a time as this?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing," said Lily, in a brazen way—she would never have spoken to -her mother in that tone if she had not been encouraged; "but Miss Blount -is not a stranger. She loves Harry, and Harry loves her, and she's -broken-hearted, and she's ill, and she's nearly out of her mind, and -nobody ever says a kind word to her! Even now that he's dying, and they -can't have each other, you treat her as if she were dirt. Poor, poor -Emily! Let me go to her! Now that Harry's dying, she's got nobody—not a -soul in this house—but me!"</p> - -<p>Well, indeed! Who'd be a mother, if she could foresee what would come of -it? To have this blow, on the top of all the rest, and at <i>such</i> a -moment! I felt quite stunned. At first I could only stare at her—I -could not speak; then I said, "Go, go!" and pointed to the door. For I -could bear no more.</p> - -<p>As soon as she was gone, I turned to my faithful Phyllis, put my head on -her shoulder, and sobbed like a baby.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Phyllis," I cried, "never you get married, my dear! Never you have -children, to suffer through them as I suffer!"</p> - -<p>She was wiser than I, however. She said she didn't think it was -altogether the children's fault.</p> - -<p>I admitted it at once. "You are quite right," I said, "and I was wrong. -It is not the children's fault. It's the fault of that hateful creature, -who has set them both against me. First Harry, then Lily—the very one -she was hired to teach her duty to! Fancy a governess, calling herself a -governess, and a B.A. to boot, corrupting an innocent young girl, a mere -child, with all the details of a clandestine love intrigue! What infamy! -What treachery!" I was beside myself when I thought of it. Any mother -would have been.</p> - -<p>But Phyllis was not a mother, and she was but lukewarm in this matter -upon which I felt so strongly. Indeed, I was half inclined to fear that -she, too, had become infected by the evil influence amongst us, until I -found that it was Dr. Juke who had been putting ideas into her head. -Dr. Juke was undoubtedly very clever, and we were enormously indebted to -him; still, I have always felt that he was too fond of giving his -opinion upon things that were altogether outside his province. It -appeared he had been telling Phyllis that it was very bad for Harry to -have any trouble on his mind, and that it was absolutely necessary, if -we would give him his full chances of recovery, to remove any that we -knew of which could be removed.</p> - -<p>"After all," said Phyllis, in a tone that showed how he had talked her -over, "she's a ladylike person enough, and certainly a clever one."</p> - -<p>"Clever, indeed," I retorted, "to have caught a man like him! And -looking all the while as demure and innocent as a nun—as if butter -wouldn't melt in her mouth! Oh, Phyllis, it would blight his career for -ever."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps not," she rejoined tolerantly—for she was too young to know; -"but even so, I would rather have him blight his career than die."</p> - -<p>"You speak," I cried—"you actually speak as if <i>I</i> wanted him to die!"</p> - -<p>Here Tom came in, and when she saw her father she got up to leave us -together. I was glad indeed to have him to myself for a few minutes. We, -at any rate, understood each other. He has his faults, dear fellow, and -I often get impatient with him; but he loves me—he thinks the world of -me—he doesn't question my judgment and criticise my conduct, as the -children do. I was going to tell him about Lily, and about what Juke had -said to Phyllis; but when he took me into his great, strong, kind arms, -I was too overcome to utter a word. I could do nothing but weep. Nor -could he. We thought how we had toiled and slaved to make our precious -boy the man he was—how we had nursed him through his baby illnesses, -and pinched ourselves to send him to public school and University, and -been so proud of his beauty and his talents and his achievements, and -looked forward with such joy to the name he would make in the world; -and how we were to lose him after all, just as we were looking for the -reward of our love and labours—and in this truly awful way!</p> - -<p>Tom said it was quite certain now that he would die. Blood-poisoning had -set in; there were swellings in some muscles of his body to prove it—a -fatal symptom, as every one knew. It only needed to spread to an -internal organ, and the machine would stop at once.</p> - -<p>"And the sooner it's over, the better," groaned Tom, "and the poor -chap's sufferings at an end. Ah, Polly, old girl, little we thought of -this when he was born, and we were as vain as two peacocks over him! Do -you remember how you brought him up to Sydney, because you couldn't wait -till I got home—and we had him on the bridge at night when the -passengers were a-bed below——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't!" I wailed in agony. Remember it! Did I not remember it? And -a hundred thousand heart-breaking things.</p> - -<p>But we had to compose ourselves as best we could, and go back to our -dreadful duties; he to see that the doctors had a proper lunch before -they left, I to renew my watch in the sick-room—to see the last, as I -supposed, of my dying boy.</p> - -<p>On my way I came upon Jane hurrying along the passage with a basin of -hot broth. Harry was not allowed animal food, so I stopped her to ask -what she was doing with it.</p> - -<p>"Taking it to Miss Blount," she replied; and I fancied she did not speak -quite so respectfully as usual. "That poor young lady hardly touches her -meals, and it do go to my heart to see her look so ill. I thought -perhaps a drop of good soup'd tempt her."</p> - -<p>Now I did not want to get the character—which I am the last person to -deserve—of being a hard woman. I am not one of those low creatures that -one reads of in novels who don't know how to treat a governess properly. -To me Miss Blount was as much a lady as I was myself, and I had always -made a point of considering her in anything. Besides, it was not the -time for animosities. All was changed in view of Harry's approaching -death. She could not injure him any more. So I took the little tray -from Jane, and said to her, "Go back to your kitchen, and attend to the -doctors' lunch. I will take the broth to Miss Blount, and find out what -is the matter with her."</p> - -<p>The girl was in her bedroom. When she saw me she jumped up, as scared as -if I had been an ogress come to eat her; but when I first opened the -door she was kneeling against her bed, as if saying her prayers. -Certainly, she did look ill. She had had a very nice complexion—no -doubt poor Harry had noticed it—and her eyes were good; but now her -skin was like tallow, and her eyes all dark and washed out, and they had -a curious empty expression in them that I did not like at all. I put the -tray on the drawers and went up to her, and laid my hand on her -shoulder. "My dear," I said, as kindly as I could speak, "I have brought -you a little nourishing broth, that I think will do you good. And you -must take it at once, while it is hot, to please me."</p> - -<p>She did not so much as say thank you, but just stood and stared in a -dazed, fixed way, like a deaf mute. So, naturally, I did not feel -inclined to bother myself further about her, and I turned to go. As soon -as I did that, however, she spoke to me, calling my name. Her voice had -a sort of lost sound in it, as if she were talking in her sleep.</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Braye," she said, "there's something I have been wanting to say to -you."</p> - -<p>"What is it?" I inquired.</p> - -<p>"If Mr. Harry gets well, I will not marry him—to blight his career. I -never would have injured him, and I never will. I would die sooner."</p> - -<p>Well, it seemed rather late to think of that. Still, it showed a nice -spirit, and I liked the way she spoke of him. She really was a lady, in -her way, and—poor thing!—she did look the picture of misery. I am a -tender-hearted woman, and I could not but feel a pang of pity for her.</p> - -<p>"Ah, my dear," I said, "there's no question of marrying or not now! He -is going fast, and nothing matters any more."</p> - -<p>Then I kissed her—I kissed her affectionately—and bade her lie down, -and not trouble about Lily's lessons; and I told her that whenever there -was a change in Harry's condition I would let her know.</p> - -<p>The change came a few days later—not suddenly, but creeping inch by -inch; and it was not the change we had all anticipated. My splendid boy! -Just as he had struggled and triumphed at football and cricket, so his -magnificent strength fought with and overcame the poison in his blood -before it could deposit itself in vital organs. It was marvellous. The -very doctors, accustomed to miracles, could not believe their senses -when they counted his pulse and looked at the little thermometer, and -felt the places where the sore lumps had been. For weeks, I may say, we -seemed to hold our breath in the maddening suspense, tantalised and -intoxicated with a hope we dared not call a certainty; but at last we -knew that life had conquered death, and that I was not called upon to -undergo <i>this</i> agony of motherhood a second time. Of course he was -weaker than a new-born baby—a mere shadow of himself; but he was saved. -When they told me, I fell on my knees, just where I stood, and cried in -my wild rapture and thankfulness, "Oh, God! God! What can I do—what -uttermost service or sacrifice can I offer—for all Thy goodness to me?"</p> - -<p>They looked at me in an odd way. They all looked at me, even my boy with -his hollow eyes. And Tom said, "Come here, Polly, I want to speak to -you;" and took me into our room, and laid his hand on my shoulders. He -stood six feet in his socks, and weighed sixteen stone, but he trembled -like a child.</p> - -<p>"Old girl," he said, "you'll have to let him have her."</p> - -<p>"Oh," I replied, "if he wants the moon, give it to him! I don't care."</p> - -<p>It was a figurative way of expressing my mood of joy—my longing to -compensate him utterly for what he had gone through; and I don't think I -ought to have been taken so literally. But, before the words were well -out of my mouth, Tom made off to Harry's room, and there and then -informed him that "mother had given her consent."</p> - -<p>And he did not tell me he was going to catch me up in this way. When -next I went to my boy's bedside, and he murmured, "Good old mummy!" and -remarked, with that deep thrill in his voice, that it was worth while -getting well, I thought he meant that it was worth while getting well to -see us all so happy.</p> - -<p>"Ay," I said, from my heart, "if you hadn't got well, it's little that -would have been worth while to <i>me</i> any more."</p> - -<p>"Poor old mummy!" he ejaculated. And then, turning serious eyes upon my -face, "You will never regret it. I can answer for that."</p> - -<p>"You need not waste breath to tell me what I know better than I know -anything," I responded, smiling.</p> - -<p>"I mean," he said, still seriously, "about <i>her.</i>"</p> - -<p>Then I understood why he had said it was worth while to get well. She -was of more consequence to him than all his own people put together.</p> - -<p>"Her?" I queried, smoothing his hair—not letting him guess the pang I -felt.</p> - -<p>"Miss Blount. Father says you have been so good to us—that you have -given us leave—that it's all right now. Look here, mother, if you only -knew her——"</p> - -<p>I stopped him, for he was getting agitated.</p> - -<p>"If your heart is set on it, darling—by and by, I mean, when you are -quite well, and have thoroughly considered the matter—don't imagine <i>I</i> -shall be the one to disappoint you and make you unhappy. I never have -been a cruel mother, have I? And as for knowing Miss Blount, if I don't -know her, having her constantly in the house with me, who should? Don't -worry yourself about Miss Blounts or anything else till you are -stronger, dearest. Put everything out of your head—think of nothing -whatever—except getting well. And when you are quite well—then we'll -see."</p> - -<p>"I can't put her out of my head. I want to see her, mother."</p> - -<p>"So you shall, dear—as soon as you are fit to see people. I will ask -the doctor about it."</p> - -<p>"Juke wouldn't object; he'd be glad. Oh, mother——!"</p> - -<p>The nurse came up, and said she thought he had talked enough. I thought -so too. His thin cheek was flushed, and his lip trembled; he was -inclined to excite himself, and had not strength to spare for that just -yet. I gave him his nourishment, turned his pillow, and whispered to him -that, if he would sleep for a few hours, then he should have his wish.</p> - -<p>"Honour bright?" he whispered back.</p> - -<p>"Don't insult me," I retorted. "When did you ever know me to break a -promise?"</p> - -<p>"To-day, mother?"</p> - -<p>"To-day—if Dr. Juke approves. Of course we must have doctor's express -permission."</p> - -<p>"All right. Give me a squirt of morphia, nurse."</p> - -<p>"No, Master Harry. No more morphia, my dear—except maybe a time or two -at night, when you <i>can't</i> do without it."</p> - -<p>"I can't do without it now," he said. "I've got to sleep before I can -see her, and I can't sleep, of myself, until I do see her."</p> - -<p>"There," I exclaimed, flinging out a hand. "What did I say? I <i>knew</i> -what the effect would be."</p> - -<p>The woman—who, I found, was actually privy to the whole affair—Tom's -doing, no doubt—began to give her opinion, as is the way of those -nurses. "If you'll take my advice," said she, "you'll let him see her -now, and sleep afterwards. It'll tire him less than fretting for her."</p> - -<p>"And if you will be so good as to mind your own business," I replied, -quietly but firmly, "I shall be infinitely obliged to you."</p> - -<p>I had not been out of the room five minutes before Tom came to seek me, -looking quite hoity-toity, as if he thought himself aboard ship again, -with sailors.</p> - -<p>"Now then, Polly," he said, "I'm not going to have any more nonsense -about this. The boy is too weak to be worried. I am going to fetch -Emily."</p> - -<p>"Since when," I asked, "has it been your habit to call her Emily?"</p> - -<p>He stared, and looked confused. "I suppose," he said, "I've caught it -from Harry."</p> - -<p>"Talking with him so much about her, when it was so necessary to keep -him calm? And to that nurse woman, behind my back—as if the private -concerns of our family were any concern of servants! Tom, I didn't think -<i>you</i> would ever be disloyal to me."</p> - -<p>"I don't think I ever have been, Polly. What's more, I don't think you -would ever imagine such a thing in cool blood. Come, you are not going -to spoil this happy day for us all, are you? The boy has been given back -to us by a miracle——"</p> - -<p>That was enough. I flung myself into his arms.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me! Forgive me!" I cried. "I know it is wicked of me. But you -don't <i>know</i> how I feel it, Tom!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do, pet; I know exactly."</p> - -<p>"No one but a mother <i>can</i> know. I used to be everything to him once, -and now he is only glad to get well because of her!"</p> - -<p>"Well, it's natural. We——"</p> - -<p>"No, we didn't. We had no mothers. But never mind—I won't be selfish. I -will go and fetch her at once."</p> - -<p>"Would you rather I went?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Certainly</i> not! Do you suppose I want them to go on thinking that you -are their only friend, and I their implacable enemy? <i>I</i> want to make -him happy as much as ever you can do."</p> - -<p>"That's right, old girl. If you're going to do a kind thing, do it the -kindest way you know. They'll be just fit to worship you, both of 'em."</p> - -<p>I did not ask to be worshipped, but I did want my boy to love his mother -a little. I ran to him, brushing the nurse aside.</p> - -<p>"Dearest," I whispered, "I am going to bring Emily. She shall sit with -you as long and as often as you like. She shall be your wife, if you -want her. I will make a daughter of her—for your sake."</p> - -<p>I took the kiss I had so richly earned, and hurried to the schoolroom. -There sat Miss Blount, still faded and tearful, but beaming with the joy -that filled the house, like the sun through rain. She and Lily had been -crying and rejoicing together, congratulating one another. I waved the -child aside, and, taking her governess by the hand, with a "Come, dear," -which I could see explained everything in a moment, led her into Harry's -room.</p> - -<p>After all, she was a lady, and a B.A. He might have done worse. But when -I saw the look he turned to her when she ran like a deer to his -arms—poor sticks of arms!—and how he held her, and crooned over -her—oh, it was like a dagger in my breast!</p> - -<p>Tom took me away, and tried to comfort me. He reminded me that we did -the same ourselves when we were young, and that we still had each -other.</p> - -<p>"You've still got me, Polly. <i>I</i> sha'n't desert you."</p> - -<p>Yes, yes; of course I still had him. But——</p> - -<p>Well, a <i>man</i> can't understand.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h3> - -<h3>A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT.</h3> - - -<p>A boy who is not yet twenty-four, and who has nothing beyond his salary -as a clerk in a shipping office, and whose young lady is a pauper, can -get engaged if he likes; but he cannot get married. I pointed this out -to Harry as soon as he was well enough to be reasoned with. I said to -him, "You know, my dearest, that there's nothing in the world I would -not do to make you happy, but it would not be making you happy to let -you think for a moment of such madness." It appeared, from Tom's -account, that the child had been thinking of it—doubtless at Emily's -instigation. "I might as well encourage you to cut your throat. Far -better, indeed."</p> - -<p>"Better?" he echoed, lifting his eyebrows, and smiling in that queer way -of his.</p> - -<p>"Better!" I insisted firmly. "You little know what it means—that -rushing into irrevocable matrimony without counting the cost—without -knowing what it entails—without experience or means——"</p> - -<p>"Mother," he interrupted, still smiling—a little impudently, though I -don't think he meant to be rude—"you were not any more experienced than -we are, and not any older or richer, were you?"</p> - -<p>I replied with dignity that my case was nowise in point. He wanted to -know why it was not. I said, because I—unlike him—had been practically -homeless at the time. And he cried, "<i>Were</i> you? I never heard of that!" -and stared at me in such a way that I blushed hotly, though old enough -to know better. He was an obstinate fellow, and he corresponded with his -grandfather and young uncles and aunts in England, and had a heap of -their autographed photos in his room. I thought I had better turn him -over to his father.</p> - -<p>Tom was walking in the garden with Emily, who had managed to get around -him in that innocent-seeming way of hers—well, I must not be -uncharitable; I daresay it <i>was</i> innocent, and I could almost have -fancied that they did not care about being interrupted. Only, of course, -that's nonsense.</p> - -<p>"My dear," I said, in a sprightly voice, "your young man seems to find -his mother a bore these days, and it's only natural. I have been trying -to cheer him, and he responds by yawning in my face. Pray do go and -exercise your spells, which are so much more potent, and leave me my old -man, who is still my own."</p> - -<p>Was there any harm in a little light chaff of this kind? One would -surely think not. But Tom, standing and looking after her as she slipped -away, blushing in her ready, <i>ingénue</i> fashion—so unlike a B.A.—said, -quite gravely——</p> - -<p>"That's a dear little soul, Polly! And I wouldn't speak to her in just -that sort of a way, if I were you. It hurts her."</p> - -<p>"It hurts <i>me</i>," I returned, "when <i>you</i> speak in that sort of a way. -It is most unjust. Can't you take a joke? You know perfectly well that I -treat her with the utmost kindness and consideration—that I have -accepted her unreservedly, for my boy's sake."</p> - -<p>"Well, well," said he, "I know you don't mean it. Your bark's worse than -your bite, old girl. Come and look at the new pigs."</p> - -<p>He drew my hand under his arm and patted it. We had had so many little -tiffs lately—things we never dreamt of till Miss Blount came!—that I -was determined not to quarrel now. It should never be said that <i>I</i> was -to blame for making a happy home unhappy. I swallowed my vexation and -went to see the pigs—thirteen little black Berkshires, all as lively as -they could be, on which he gloated whole-heartedly for the moment, as if -they were more than wife or children. In his expansive ardour he offered -me one of them to make a festive dish of for Sunday.</p> - -<p>"Let us have a little feast, Polly, for the young folks. Harry is able -to sit up to table now, and we have done nothing to celebrate the -engagement yet. Sucking-pig and one of the fat turkeys, and ask Juke to -join us. Eh?"</p> - -<p>"My dear," I replied, "I am perfectly willing to celebrate the -engagement in any way you like—yes, we'll have a nice dinner, and ask -Dr. Juke—I am sure we owe him every attention that we can possibly pay -him; but what I want to warn you against is letting them suppose that -there is to be any celebration of the marriage—with our consent."</p> - -<p>Tom stared as if he did not understand.</p> - -<p>"You mean, not immediately?" he questioned. "Of course not."</p> - -<p>"I mean, not for <i>years</i>," I solemnly urged. "Tom, you must back me up -in this. The boy is but a boy, with his way to make in the world. Before -we allow him to saddle himself with a wife who will probably be quite -useless—those University women always are—and the responsibilities of -a family, he <i>must</i> be in a position to afford it."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Tom, in a tepid way. "But you and I, Polly——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, never mind about you and me," I broke in; "that is altogether -different"—for of course it was. "You were a man of twice his age."</p> - -<p>"Which would make him about fourteen," said my husband, trying to be -funny.</p> - -<p>As for me, I saw nothing to laugh at. I cannot imagine a more serious -position as between parent and child. "At his time of life," I said, -"four years are equal to ten at any other stage. Let him have those four -years—let him begin where his father did—and I shall be quite -satisfied."</p> - -<p>"Well, you see, my dear, it hardly rests with us, does it?"</p> - -<p>Tom stirred up the mother sow with his walking-stick, and sniggered in a -most feeble-minded fashion.</p> - -<p>"How? Why not?" I demanded. "Do you mean to say you have not the power -to influence him? Do you think that Harry, if properly advised, would -persist in taking his own way in spite of us? I refuse to believe that -any son of <i>mine</i> could do such a thing."</p> - -<p>Again Tom laughed, looking at me as if he saw some great joke somewhere. -I asked him what it was, and he said, "Oh, never mind—nothing." But I -knew. He was thinking of my own elopement, to which I was driven by my -father's second marriage—an incident that had no bearing whatever upon -the present case. It exasperated me to see him so flippant about a -matter of really grave importance, but I determined not to let him draw -me into a dispute.</p> - -<p>"Four years," I said mildly, "would give them time to know each other -and their own minds. It would be a test, to prove them. If at the end of -four years they were still faithful, I should feel assured that all was -well. But of course they would get tired of each other long before that, -and so he would be spared a terrible fate, and all the trouble would be -at an end."</p> - -<p>We had left the pigsty and were pacing the paths of the kitchen garden, -surveying the depredations of the irrepressible slug.</p> - -<p>"The rain seems to wash the soot away as fast as I put it on," sighed -Tom. "I'll get a bag of lime, and try what that'll do. Well, Polly, for -my part, I should be very sorry to think them likely to get tired of -each other. And I don't believe it, either. I don't think she's that -sort of a girl somehow."</p> - -<p>"How like a man!" I ejaculated. "Just because she's got a pretty face!"</p> - -<p>"No, not because she's got a pretty face—though it is a pretty -face—but because she's good as well as pretty. She's a right down good -girl, my dear, believe me—just the sort of daughter-in-law I'd have -chosen for myself, if I had had the choosing. I told Harry so. You -should have seen how pleased he was!"</p> - -<p>"No doubt. But I don't see how you can know whether she's good or not. -<i>You</i> are not always with her, as we are."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I see her at times. We have little talks occasionally. A man can -soon tell." He put his arm round my waist as we paced along. "I haven't -been married to you for all these years without knowing a good woman -from a bad one, Polly."</p> - -<p>It was intended for a compliment, but somehow I could not smile at it. -In fact, I shed a tear instead. And when he saw it, and stooped to kiss -it away, my feelings overcame me. I threw my arms round his neck and -begged him not to let fascinating daughters-in-law draw away his heart -from his old wife. I daresay it was silly, but I could not help it. Of -course he chuckled as if I had said something very funny. And his only -reply was "<i>Baby!</i>"—in italics. So like a man, who never can see a -meaning that is not right on the top of a word.</p> - -<p>However, I promised to be nice to Emily—nicer, rather, for, as I told -him, I had always been nice to her—and he said he would take an early -opportunity to have a serious talk with Harry.</p> - -<p>"But let the poor chap alone till he gets his strength again," he -pleaded—as if I were a perfect tyrant, bent on making the boy -miserable; "let the poor children enjoy their love-making for the little -while that Emily remains here. She has been telling me that she's got a -fine appointment in a school—joint principal—and that she's going to -work in a fortnight—to work and save for their little home, till Harry -is ready for her."</p> - -<p>"<i>What?</i>" I exclaimed. "She never told me that."</p> - -<p>"She will, of course, when you give her the chance," said Tom, with an -air of apology.</p> - -<p>"She ought to have told me, she ought to have confided in me, first of -all," I urged, much hurt, as I had every right to be; "I can't -understand why she did not. You seem," I concluded passionately—"you -all seem to be having secrets behind my back, and shutting me out of -everything, as if I were everybody's enemy. It is always so!"</p> - -<p>"It is never so," replied Tom, laying his arm round my shoulder. "You -are never outside, old girl, except when you won't come in."</p> - -<p>That was what they always said when they wanted to defend themselves.</p> - -<p>But here we dropped the painful subject, and discussed the details of -our proposed festival.</p> - -<p>"Only Juke?" I inquired, counting on my fingers. "That makes seven in -all—an awkward number."</p> - -<p>"No matter for a family party," said Tom. "We are not going in for style -this time. The boy in his armchair and pillows will take the room of -two."</p> - -<p>"Still, we may as well make it an even eight," I urged. "Otherwise the -table will look lopsided, and one or other of the girls will have nobody -to talk to."</p> - -<p>"They will be quite satisfied to have their brother to look at. No, no, -Polly, don't let us make a company affair of it, for goodness' sake. -Harry wouldn't like it, or be fit for it either."</p> - -<p>"And isn't Juke company?"</p> - -<p>"By Heavens, no! We owe it to that young fellow that our only son isn't -in his grave—yes, Polly, I am convinced of it—and my house is his, and -all that's in it. Besides, he'll be here professionally—to see that -Harry doesn't overeat himself. Oh, Juke is quite another pair of -shoes."</p> - -<p>I certainly did not see it. He had served us well, no doubt, and we had -paid him well; each side had done its part in a generous and -conscientious spirit. I considered he had no more claim on us now than -the thousands of passengers Tom had carried when he was a sea captain -had on him. I am sure no doctor in the world can match a ship's -commander of the most common type for self-denying devotion to the cause -of duty. But, seeing Tom so inclined to be cross and unreasonable, I -thought it better to say no more. We returned to the sty to select the -piglet that was to be killed, and in my own mind I selected the guest -who should make the table symmetrical. I knew that Harry would only -rejoice to see another friend, and it was due to Phyllis to provide her -as well as the others with a companion. It was also an opportunity which -I did not feel it right to miss for serving her interests in other ways.</p> - -<p>I am not one of those vulgar match-makers who are the laughing-stock of -the young men, and properly so—quite the contrary, indeed: no one can -accuse <i>me</i> of scheming to get my daughters married. Still, they must be -married some day—or should be, in the order of nature—and surely to -goodness a mother is permitted to safeguard, to some extent, a -thoughtless and ignorant girl against the greatest of all the perils -that her inexperience of life can expose her to. Not for the world would -I force her inclination in any way, but there is a difference between -doing that and letting her make a fool of herself with the first casual -puppy in coat and trousers that crosses her path. The duty of parents is -to protect their adolescent children from themselves, as it were, in -this incalculably important matter; that is to say, to keep their path -clear of acquaintanceships from which undesirable complications might -result, while encouraging innocent friendships that may develop with -impunity. Otherwise, what's the use of being parents at all? Your -children might as well be orphans, and better. I neglected this duty, -certainly, when I allowed Harry and Emily Blount to have access to each -other; but then a son is not like a daughter—you can't be always -overlooking him—and that affair was a lesson to me. I determined to be -more vigilant in Phyllis's case.</p> - -<p>Phyllis is not like other girls. I think I may say, without a particle -of vanity, that she is the very prettiest in Australia, at the least. -There may be greater beauties at home—I don't know, it is so long since -I was there; but if there be, I should like to see them. Her features -are not classical, of course, and that dear little piquant suggestion of -a cast in the left eye is a peculiarity, though it is not a defect, any -more than are the freckles she gets in summer: these trifles of detail -merely go to make the <i>tout-ensemble</i> what it is—so charming that she -has but to enter a room to eclipse every other woman in it. This being -so, I was naturally anxious that she should marry, when she did marry, -into her proper sphere, and not be thrown away upon a man unworthy of -her. And I only took the most simple and necessary precaution for her -safety when I limited my invitations to young fellows whom I could -trust—like Spencer Gale.</p> - -<p>Tom says I never had a good word for Spencer Gale until he made his -fortune in Broken Hills. It amuses Tom to make these reckless -statements, and it doesn't hurt me in the least. I <i>always</i> liked the -boy, but any fair-minded person must have acknowledged that his change -of circumstances had improved him—brushed him up, and brightened him in -every way. It was not his wealth that induced me to throw him into my -daughter's company, but his sterling personal qualities. A better son -never walked, excepting my own dear Harry—that alone was enough for me; -a good son never fails to make a good husband, as everybody knows.</p> - -<p>His sister was a friend and neighbour of mine, and I knew that he was -staying with her. At one time all the family had lived here, Mr. Gale -having Tom's fancy for amateur farming and market-gardening in his -leisure hours. Spencer and Harry, both being clerks in Melbourne -offices, used to go into town together of a morning; that was how we -came to know them. But when Spencer had some shares given him which went -to a ridiculous price directly afterwards, and when his money, by all -sorts of lucky chances, bred money at such a rate that he was worth -(they said) a quarter of a million in a twelvemonth, then they all left -this out-of-the-way suburb for a big place in Toorak—all except Mary -Gale, who married a poor clergyman before the boom. Mary's husband, Mr. -Welshman, was the incumbent of our parish, and her good brother was not -at all too grand to pay her visits at intervals, besides helping her to -educate the children. Which proved conclusively that prosperity had not -spoiled him.</p> - -<p>I walked to the parsonage on Friday afternoon, hoping to find him there; -but he was out, and I only saw Mrs. Welshman. I used to like Mary -Welshman in the old days, but she has become quite spoiled since people -began to make a fuss of her family on Spencer's account. It is always -the case—I have noticed it repeatedly; when sudden wealth comes to -those who have not been accustomed to it, it is the girls whose heads -are turned. I asked for Spencer, and mentioned that we wished him to -dine with us, and you would have thought I was seeking an audience with -a king from his lord chamberlain.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure," she said, with her absurd airs of -importance. "He is so much in request everywhere. He is certain to have -a dozen engagements. I don't think you have the remotest chance of -getting him, Mrs. Braye, on such short notice."</p> - -<p>The fact was that she did not want me to get him. She had the fixed -delusion—all the Gales had—that there wasn't a mother or daughter in -the country who was not plotting to catch him for matrimonial purposes; -and she let me see very plainly her suspicion of my motives and her fear -of Phyllis's power.</p> - -<p>"To-night," she exclaimed, in a tone of triumph—"to-night he is dining -at the Melbourne Club, to meet the Governor." Poor thing! It was amusing -to see how proud she was of it—evidently bursting to proclaim the news -to all and sundry.</p> - -<p>"Very well," I said, smiling, "I will just drop a note to him at the -club."</p> - -<p>And then I turned the conversation upon parish matters, as the best way -of taking the conceit out of her. For I don't believe in clergymen's -wives setting themselves up to patronise their lady parishioners, on -whose favour and subscriptions (to put it coarsely) their husbands' -livelihood depends.</p> - -<p>On my way home I was fortunate enough to encounter Spencer Gale himself. -He was looking very well and handsome, riding a magnificent horse, which -curveted and pranced all over the road when he checked its gallop in -obedience to my uplifted hand. I felt a thrill of maternal pride as I -gazed at him—of maternal anxiety also.</p> - -<p>"My boy," I cried, "do pray be careful! Remember what happened to poor -Harry from this sort of rashness, and what a valuable life it is that -you are risking!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's all right, Mrs. Braye," he responded, in his nice, cheerful -way. "It is only oats and high spirits. How's Harry? Getting along like -a house afire, Mary tells me. I'm awfully glad."</p> - -<p>Dear fellow! His kindness touched me to the heart. I suppose he was -afraid to dismount from that obstreperous beast, lest he should lose -control of it, and I am sure he could not help the way it tried to -trample on me with its hind legs when I came near enough to talk.</p> - -<p>I told him how beautifully Harry was doing, and how he was to have his -first dinner with us on Sunday, and how delighted he would be to see an -old friend on such an occasion—and so on. Spencer seemed not to -understand me for a moment, owing to the clatter of the horse, for he -said he could not come because he was going to dine with the Governor at -the Melbourne Club.</p> - -<p>"But that is to-night," I called. "And we want you for the day after -to-morrow—Sunday. Just a simple family meal at half-past one—pot-luck, -you know."</p> - -<p>He did not answer for some minutes—thinking over his engagements, -doubtless; then he asked whether <i>all</i> of us were at home. Aha! I knew -what that meant, though of course I pretended I didn't. I said that no -member of the family would be so heartless as to absent herself from -such a festival as Harry's first dinner; that, on the contrary, his -sister was more devoted to him, and far more indispensable both to him -and to the house than a dozen hospital nurses. I described in a few -words what Phyllis had been to us during our time of trouble, and he -smiled with pleasure. And of course he consented to accept the casual -invitation for her sake, pretending reluctance just to save appearances. -It was arranged that he would be at his sister's on Sunday, and walk -back with us after morning service.</p> - -<p>I told Tom in the evening, when he was sitting in the garden with his -pipe, in a good temper. You would have supposed I was announcing some -dreadful domestic calamity.</p> - -<p>"Whatever for?" he grumbled, with a most injured air. "I thought we -were to be a comfortable family party, just ourselves, and no fuss at -all."</p> - -<p>"There will be no fuss," I said, "unless you make it. He is just coming -in a friendly, informal manner, to fill the vacant place. If you will -have Dr. Juke, there must be another man to balance the table."</p> - -<p>"But why that man? You know Harry can't bear him since he's got so -uppish about his money and his swell friends. Why not have somebody of -our own class?—though I think it perfectly unnecessary to have anybody -under the circumstances."</p> - -<p>"Our own class!" I indignantly exclaimed. "I hope you don't insult your -children, not to speak of me, by implying that they are not good enough -for Gales to associate with?"</p> - -<p>"They are," said Tom; "they are—and a lot too good for one Gale to -associate with. But he don't think so, Polly."</p> - -<p>"If he did not, would he do it?" was my unanswerable retort. But it is -useless trying to argue with a prejudiced man who is determined not to -see reason. And I felt it wise to leave him before he could draw me into -a dispute.</p> - -<p>Harry, however, was equally exasperating. He said, "Oh, then I shall -make it Monday, if you don't mind. Better a dinner of herbs on -washing-day in peace and comfort than a stalled ox on Sunday with -Spencer Gale to spoil one's appetite and digestion for it." But Emily -rebuked him on my behalf. She had but to look at him to make him do what -she wished, and I suppose she thought it good policy to propitiate the -future mother-in-law.</p> - -<p>Phyllis, whom I had expected to please—for whose sake I had gone to all -this trouble—was simply insolent. Alas! it is the tendency of girls in -these days. Respect for parents, trust in their judgment and deference -to their wishes, all the modest, dutiful ways that were the rule when I -was young, seem quite to have gone out of fashion. You would have -thought that she was the mother and I the daughter if you had heard how -she spoke to me, and seen the superior air with which she stood over me -to signify her royal displeasure.</p> - -<p>"Oh, well, you have just gone and spoilt the whole thing—that's all."</p> - -<p>I could have cried with mortification. But then, what's the use? It is -only what wives and mothers must expect when they try to do their best -for their families.</p> - -<p>I had another struggle with her on Sunday morning. She refused to -accompany us to church. She said she was not going to offer herself to -Spencer Gale as a companion for a half-hour's walk—that he was quite -conceited enough without that; if other girls chose to run after him and -spoil him, she didn't. As if <i>I</i> would ask her to run after any man! And -as if Emily or I could not have walked home with our guest! But I -learned a little later what all this prudishness amounted to. When we -came back from church—Emily, Lily, Spencer, and I—we found an empty -drawing-room, Harry and Tom in armchairs on the verandah, and Phyllis -away in the kitchen garden gathering strawberries for dessert with Dr. -Juke! And I discovered that that young man had interpreted an invitation -to lunch at half-past one as meaning that he should arrive punctually at -twelve. Tom pretended that he had called professionally at that hour, -and been persuaded to put his buggy up in our stables and remain.</p> - -<p>"And I suppose you persuaded him?" I said, trying—because Spencer was -standing by me—to keep what I felt out of my voice.</p> - -<p>"Well, my dear," replied the fatuous man, "the truth is, he didn't want -much pressing."</p> - -<p>There are times when I feel that I could shake Tom, he is so -wooden-headed and silly—though so dear.</p> - -<p>However, Phyllis, when I called her in, greeted Spencer Gale with proper -cordiality; and the whole family behaved better than I had expected they -would. They seemed to lay themselves out to be pleasant all round, and -to make Harry's first day downstairs a happy one. It was a delightful -early-summer day—he could not have had a better—and our pretty home -was looking its prettiest, for we had had nice rains that year. Phyllis -had decorated the table beautifully with roses, and Jane had surpassed -herself in cooking the dinner. The pig was done to a turn—I never -tasted anything so delicious—and the turkey was a picture. We had our -own green peas and asparagus and young potatoes, and our own cream -whipped in the meringues and coffee jelly—in short, it was as good a -dinner as any millionaire could wish for, and in the end everything -seemed to go as I had intended it should.</p> - -<p>Harry was no trouble at all. I purposely put him at his father's end of -the table, with Emily between him and Juke, to pacify him; and, with his -young lady at his side and Spencer as far off as possible, the dear boy -was as gay and good-tempered as could be, quite the life of the party. -Spencer sat between me and Phyllis, and she really seemed to devote -herself to him. I was surprised to see how little fear she evidently had -of appearing to throw herself at his head, like the other girls; she -chattered and joked to him—the prettiest colour and animation in her -face—and hardly glanced at Juke opposite, who, for his part, confined -his attentions to his neighbours, Miss Blount and me, and was -particularly unobtrusive and quiet.</p> - -<p>As for Spencer Gale, he was most interesting in his descriptions of what -he had seen and done during his recent European travels; it was quite an -education to listen to him. I was particularly pleased that he was so -ready to talk on this subject, because I hate to have the children grow -up narrow-minded and provincial, ignorant of the world outside their -colony. It has been the dream of my life to take them home and give them -advantages, and I have never been able to realise it. I could not help -thinking, as that young man discoursed of Paris and Venice and all the -rest of it, what a delightful honeymoon his bride might have! And so she -did, as it turned out, no great while afterwards.</p> - -<p>Harry yawned and fidgeted, for sitting long in one position tired him; -so Tom and Juke carried him to a cane lounge on the verandah before the -rest of us had had dessert. I was annoyed with Phyllis for running out -to get pillows, which were already there, and for not returning when she -had made her brother comfortable. Emily had the grace to remain at -table, and of course Lily stayed also. She is a most intelligent child, -voracious for information of all sorts; and she plied our guest with so -many questions, and amused him so much by her interest in his -adventures, that she made him forget the strawberries on his plate and -how time was going—forgetting herself that the poor servants were -wanting to clear away so that they might get out for their Sunday walk.</p> - -<p>At last he finished, and I led the way to the verandah, where I expected -to find the others. But only Harry and his father were there, the boy -looking rather fagged and inclined to doze, and Tom—who has no -manners—placidly sucking at his pipe.</p> - -<p>"Why, where is Phyllis?" I inquired.</p> - -<p>"Kitchen," said Harry promptly, opening his eyes.</p> - -<p>"And the doctor?"</p> - -<p>"Gone off to a patient."</p> - -<p>"Then," said I, "come and let me show you my roses, Mr. Gale;" and I -took his arm. I thought it a good opportunity to have a little quiet -talk with him on my own account. Afterwards I remembered that my husband -and son watched us rather anxiously as we sauntered off into the garden, -but I did not notice it at the time. It never crossed my mind that they -could deliberately conspire to deceive me.</p> - -<p>I had had the garden tidied, and, in the first flush of the summer -bloom, it looked really beautiful—although I say it. I would not have -been ashamed to show it to the Queen herself. And our rustic cottage, -that we had continually been adding to and improving ever since it came, -a mere shanty, into our hands, was a study for a painter, with the -yellow banksia in perfection, quite hiding the framework of the -verandah. I halted my companion on the front lawn, at the prettiest -point of view.</p> - -<p>"A humble little place," I remarked; "but I think I may say for it, -without undue vanity, that it looks like the home of gentlefolks."</p> - -<p>He followed my gaze, and fixed his eyes upon the particular window which -I informed him belonged to Phyllis's room.</p> - -<p>"What's she doing?" he inquired bluntly. He could not conceal his -impatience for her return.</p> - -<p>I told him that, in the case of so variously useful a person, it was -impossible to say. I had no doubt she was attending to housekeeping -matters, which she never neglected for her own amusement. Then I threw -out a feeler or two, to test him—to learn, if possible, something of -his tastes and character; it was necessary, for her sake, to do so. And -I was delighted to find that he shared my opinion of the colonial girl -as a type, and agreed with me that the term "unprotected female" should -in these days be altered to "unprotected male," seeing that it was the -women who did all the courting, and the men who were exposed to masked -batteries, as it were, at every turn.</p> - -<p>"A fellow's never safe till he's married," said the poor boy, doubtless -speaking from painful experience. "And not then."</p> - -<p>"That depends," said I. "There are people—I know plenty—who, having -married dolls like those we have been speaking of, find themselves far -indeed from being safe; but choose a good, modest, clever, loving girl, -who has been well brought up—one devoted to her home and unspoiled by a -vulgar society—and it is quite another pair of shoes, as my husband -would say. By the way, ask <i>him</i> what he thinks of marriage for young -men."</p> - -<p>"I don't know that I want to ask anybody anything," he returned, a -little irritably—for Phyllis was still invisible—"except to leave me -alone to do as I like. I don't believe in having wives selected for me, -Mrs. Braye; I'm always telling my mother and sisters that, and they -won't pay the least attention. I think a fellow might be allowed to -please himself, especially a fellow in my position."</p> - -<p>"Certainly," I said, with all the emphasis I could command. "<i>Most</i> -certainly. That is my own view exactly. I have always said that, in -respect of my own children, I would never force or thwart them in any -way. I chose the one I loved, regardless of wealth or poverty, and they -shall do the same. More than that," I added gaily, "I am going to be the -most charming mother-in-law that ever was! I shall quite redeem the -character. I will never attempt to interfere with my children's -households—never be <i>de trop</i>—never—oh! Why, there she is!"</p> - -<p>We were turning into a quiet path between tall shrubs—the fatal place -where, as I was told, Harry had been entrapped—and I suddenly saw the -gleam of a white dress in a little bower at the end of it. At the same -moment I saw—so did Spencer Gale—a thing that petrified us both. I was -struck speechless, but his emotion forced him to hysteric laughter.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid," said he, recovering himself, "that we are <i>de trop</i> this -time, at any rate."</p> - -<p>"Not at all," I retorted, also rallying my self-command. "Not at all. We -don't have anything of that sort in this family."</p> - -<p>But the facts were too palpable; it was useless pretending to ignore -them. Phyllis jumped out of the arbour, like an alarmed bird out of its -nest, and came strolling towards us, affecting a nonchalant air, but -with a face the colour of beetroot with confusion; and that unspeakable -doctor, who had caused her so to forget herself, strutted at her side, -twirling the tip of his moustache and endeavouring to appear as if he -had not been kissing her, but looking all the time the very image of -detected guilt.</p> - -<p>It is not necessary to state that Spencer Gale left immediately, and -never darkened our doors again. When, a little later, I had it out with -Phyllis, she declared, with a toss of the head, that she wouldn't have -taken him if there had been no other marriageable man living—that there -was only one husband for her, whom she intended to have whether we -liked it or not, even if she were forced to wait for him till she was an -old woman. I have often regretted that I did not control myself better, -but she, who had no excuse for violence, behaved like a perfect lunatic. -She went so far as to say she would never forgive me for the insults I -had heaped upon one—meaning Edmund Juke—who had no equal in the -universe, and who had saved her brother's life. Of course she did not -mean it—and I did not mean it—and we forgave each other long ago; but -I never hear the name of Spencer Gale without the memory of that -interview coming back to me, like a bitter taste in the mouth.</p> - -<p>He married about the same time as she did—a significant circumstance! -They say that he lost his boom money when the boom burst, and that he -drinks rather badly, and makes domestic scandals of various kinds. If he -does, it is no more than one might have expected, considering the -provocation. It is all very well for my family to repeat these tales to -his discredit, and then point to Edmund Juke in Collins Street gradually -climbing to the top of his profession; they think this is sufficient to -prove that they were always Solomons of wisdom, and I a fool of the -first magnitude. It does not occur to them that if some things had been -different, all things would have been different. The one man would never -have fallen into low habits if he had had Phyllis for his wife, and the -other would never have risen so high if he had not had her. That is how -I look at it. And as for material prosperity, no one could have foreseen -how things were going to turn out, and luck is like the rain that falls -on the just and on the unjust—it comes to the people who don't deserve -it quite as often as to those who do.</p> - -<p>For my part, I pay no heed to malicious gossip. There are always envious -persons ready and anxious to pull down those who are placed above them; -if they cannot find a legitimate pretext, they invent one. I see for -myself that he still lives in his beautiful Kew house, that his wife -still leads the fashion at every important social function and drives -the finest turn-out in Melbourne; that does not look as if they were so -very poor. And if one <i>could</i> forgive infidelities in a married man, it -would be in the case of one tied to a painted creature who evidently -cares for nothing but display and admiration—to have her photograph -flaunted in the public streets, and herself surrounded by a crowd of -so-called smart people, flattering her vanity for the sake of her -husband's position. He may have a handsome establishment, but he cannot -have a <i>home.</i> So who can wonder if he seeks comfort elsewhere, and -flies to the bottle to drown his grief? It would have been very, very -different if my beautiful Phyllis had been at the head of affairs.</p> - -<p>However, if she is satisfied, it is not for me to say a word.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> - -<h3>THE SILVER WEDDING.</h3> - - -<p>Emily went to her school in Melbourne, and I had to get another -governess for Lily. She was a horrid woman. I stood her for one quarter, -and then packed her off; and we had to pay her for six months, because -she threatened to sue us for breach of contract. The next that I -procured was a clever person enough, and not wanting in good manners, -but she ordered the servants about as if the house belonged to her, and -of course they resented it. So did I. Emily's gentle unobtrusiveness had -spoiled us for ways of that sort. Moreover, Miss Scott was terribly -severe upon Lily; the child was always in tears over lessons that were -too hard for her. I did not believe in overstraining a growing girl, and -ventured to remonstrate now and then on her behalf; but Miss Scott was -quite above taking advice from her elders and betters—as good as asked -me to mind my own business, or, at any rate, to allow her to know hers. -So I thought it best to make a change.</p> - -<p>And then I was deceived by false representations into engaging a widow -lady, who had seen better days. She was recommended to me as an -experienced teacher, having held situations in high families before her -marriage; and I naturally supposed that one who had been a mother -herself would be a safer guide for a young girl than one who had not. -But words cannot describe what a wretch that woman was. There is -something about widows—I don't know what it is—something that seems -almost improper—especially those that are by way of being young and -pretty, like Mrs. Underwood, though she was all forty, if she was a day, -in spite of her baby airs and graces and her butter-yellow hair. She had -the audacity to try and flirt with Tom, under cover of her pathetic -stories of her lost husband and children, and those better days that -were a pure invention; and he was too idiotically stupid—that is, too -innocent and simple-minded—to see what was so glaringly transparent to -everybody else. He used to think her an ill-used woman and pity her, and -think me hard and unfeeling because I didn't. Oh, never will I have a -widow about my house again! She entirely destroyed our domestic peace. -Things came to such a pass, indeed, that Tom even threatened—seriously, -and not in a joke—to get out his captain's certificate and return to -sea, because his home, that had always been so happy, had become -unbearable.</p> - -<p>She went at last, and then I felt that I had had enough of governesses. -Determined that I would never undergo such misery again, and at the same -time strongly objecting to boarding-schools for girls, there was nothing -for it but to superintend Lily's general studies myself, and take her -into town for special lessons. I did not like the job, and found her -very tiresome and disheartening; she seemed to mope, all alone, and -would not interest herself in anything. A girl in these days is never -satisfied with her mother for a companion, and after a time, when the -Jukes were settled in their Melbourne house, I was glad to let her go on -long visits to her sister. There she found plenty to occupy and amuse -her, while I sat solitary at home, working for them both.</p> - -<p>For I had no children left when she was away. The difficulty of the -governess was not the only trouble that resulted from Emily's desertion -of me. Harry also forsook the nest. He said it was inconvenient to live -so far from his office, though he had never thought of that while she -was with us, and that it would be better for business reasons to have a -lodging in town. I did not attempt to thwart him. And so, as soon as he -was strong enough to return to regular work—so valued was he by the -shipping firm which employed him that they had kept his situation open -during his illness—he took himself and a new bicycle to a stuffy -Melbourne suburb, where he would be in the way of meeting his beloved -frequently at the houses of her friends.</p> - -<p>I wanted to settle in Melbourne too, to be near them all. But our little -place was our own—a valuable property, yet unsaleable in these bad -times—and Tom said we could not afford it. Besides, I knew he would be -miserable cooped up in streets, and lost without his pigs and vegetable -garden.</p> - -<p>Thus we felt ourselves stranded on the shore while our young ones put to -sea—deserted in our old age—which, after all, is the common fate. Only -we were not in our old age, either of us. I have not a grey hair in my -head, even now, and have more than once been taken for Phyllis's elder -sister. On the day that she was married, when I wore pale heliotrope -relieved with white, I overheard old Captain Saunders—and a man of -eighty ought to be a judge—say to Mr. Welshman, "She's a pretty girl, -but her mother can beat her." And I should like to see the man of forty -who is the equal of what my husband was at fifty-five—or is at his -"present-day" age, which comes to little more. Tom is stout certainly, -but only in a dignified and commanding fashion; he can out-do Harry in -feats of strength, and his fine, bronzed face, with those keen blue eyes -in it, has a power of manliness that kings might envy. For the matter of -that, kings are not nearly so much of kings as he was accustomed to -being on board his ships. I know the lady passengers made themselves -ridiculous by the way they scrambled for his notice and a seat beside -him at the saloon table.</p> - -<p>To people like Mrs. Underwood, though she was really my contemporary, I -may seem very <i>passée</i>—no doubt I do—and a perfect granny to the -children, who regard youth and beauty as solely the prerogatives of -bread-and-butter misses in their teens; but—as Captain Saunders's -remark indicated—I am not too old to charm where I want to charm. No, -indeed; nor ever shall be—to one person, at all events. When Tom and I -woke up on our silver wedding morning and kissed each other, did we not -know what love meant as much and more than we had ever done, without -needing Juke and Phyllis, and Harry and his Emily to teach us? I should -think so, indeed! It seems to me that it <i>requires</i> the fulness of many -years, fatherhood and motherhood in all stages and phases, innumerable -steps of painful experience climbed together, to bring us to the perfect -comprehension of love—the best love—that love in the lore of which -those children, who think themselves so knowing, are mere beginners, -with the alphabet to learn.</p> - -<p>And this, by the way—it has just this moment occurred to me—is the -kernel of the woman question, which seems so vastly complicated. Why, it -is as simple as it can possibly be. The whole thing is in a nutshell. -Those advocates and defenders of this and that, arguing so passionately -and inconclusively at such interminable length—how silly they are! You -have one set of people raving for female suffrage and equal rights and -liberties with tyrant man; you have another set of people storming at -them for thus ignoring the intentions of Nature, the interests of the -house and family. The intentions of Nature, indeed! The house and -family! When millions of poor women are old maids who haven't chosen to -be so!—who, of course, <i>could</i> not choose to be so, unless -physiologically defective in some way or another. Poor, poor things! -They don't want equal rights with man, but equal rights with the lower -animals. As they don't know what they miss, they may be forgiven for the -way they speak of it in their books and speeches; but if they had it—if -all had it who by nature are entitled to it—there would be no more -woman question. I am quite convinced of that. Nature's intentions would -then really be fulfilled, and the other troubles of the case, all -secondary and contingent, would vanish. Of course they would. Man is not -a tyrant, bless him! The child is the only tyrant—the legitimate power -that keeps woman in her place.</p> - -<p>But, oh, how much that child does cost us! We give all freely, and would -give a thousand times more if we had it to give, for it is the most -precious of human privileges—the thing we really live for, though it is -inconvenient to admit it; but we pay with heart's blood, from the -beginning to the end. We pay so much and so constantly that it often -seems to me that the poor childless ones, undeveloped and inexperienced, -who cannot know the great joys of life, are also exempt from all sorrow -that is worthy of the name.</p> - -<p>Baby-rearing, absorbingly interesting though it be, is really a terrible -business; and the fewer the babies the worse it is. You hardly know what -it means to have a night's rest for dread of the ever-recurring -epidemics that so fatally ravage the nurseries of this country. Day and -night you have the shadow of the clinical thermometer, your sword of -Damocles, hanging over you, and are afraid to breathe lest you should -bring it down. Then, when this hair-whitening strain begins to slacken a -little and you think you are going to have an easy time, the children -that are now able to take care of themselves utterly refuse to do so. -Your girl goes wet-footed with a light heart, and you never see a -telegraph messenger coming to the house without expecting to hear that -your boy at school has broken his arm at football or his neck -bird's-nesting. They follow their mischievous devices, and you can't -help it; you can only cluck and fuss like a futile hen running round the -pond in which her brood of ducklings is splashing. That's worse than -baby-rearing, because you can at least do what you like with a baby.</p> - -<p>And then, when you pride yourself on having successfully got through the -long struggle, and you tell yourself that now they are going to be a -help and a comfort to you at last, off they go to the first stranger who -beckons to them, and think no more about you than of an old nurse who -has served her purpose—probably turning round to point out the errors -you have committed, and to show you how much better you would have done -if you had taken their advice. And that is worst of all.</p> - -<p>No trouble that I had had with mine, while they were with me, equalled -the trouble of being without them, especially on the silver wedding -morning, when I had, as it were, the field of my married life before me; -when I felt that a golden harvest was my due, and beheld a ravaged -garden with all its flowers plucked. It was my own fault that no letters -of congratulation came by the first post; I had purposely refrained from -reminding the children of the approaching anniversary, just to see if -they would remember it, and they had been too full of their own concerns -to give it a thought. Afterwards they scolded me for not telling them, -and were very repentant. I had no present either—that is, not on the -day. Tom had given me a silver <i>entrée</i> dish, and I had given him a -silver-mounted claret-jug; but we had made our purchases a week too -soon, and had been unable to keep the matter secret from each other. It -was a wet morning, and I, being the first downstairs, was greeted with -the smell of burnt porridge in the kitchen. I thought it too bad of Jane -to let such a thing happen on such an occasion, and a hardship that -rain should be running like tears down the breakfast-room window panes -when I so particularly wanted to be cheered. It was April, the month of -broken weather, and leaves were falling thickly on the beds and paths -outside. I surveyed the dripping prospect, and noted how impossible it -was to keep the weeds down, with the summer-warmed earth so moist; and I -turned back into the room to see a late-lit fire fading on the hearth, -and the children's empty chairs against the wall.</p> - -<p>Well, I sat down behind the two lonely tea-cups and bowed my head on the -table, on the point of tears—feeling that I too was a denuded autumn -tree, an outworn woman who had had her day. And then, before I could get -out my handkerchief, Tom came in.</p> - -<p>He kicked two logs together, and the dying fire sprang to life; he -opened a window, and the freshest and sweetest morning air poured in, -sprinkled with a gentle shower and hinting at coming sunshine.</p> - -<p>"What a lovely day we've got, eh, Polly? What a beautiful rain! This'll -bring the grass on, and make the land splendid for ploughing, hey? -What's the matter, old girl? Missing the children? Oh, well, they're -happy; we've nothing to fret about on their account—nor on our own -either—and that's more than most people can say on their silver wedding -morning. Porridge spoilt? Oh, that's no matter—we have something better -than porridge. Here, Jane! Jane! Bring in the you know what, if you've -got 'em ready."</p> - -<p>Jane came in, smiling, with the new <i>entrée</i> dish in her hands. Tom -watched it with gleeful eyes, and assisted to place it on the table. It -was his little surprise for me—mushrooms, to which I am extravagantly -partial—the first of the season. He had gone to Melbourne the day -before to buy them, and it was her absorption in the task of cooking -them delicately which had caused Jane to neglect the porridge—Tom's -first course at every breakfast.</p> - -<p>"There" said he, as he lifted the shining lid. He was as pleased as a -boy with his plot and its <i>dénouement.</i></p> - -<p>"Oh, you <i>precious!</i>" I responded; and the gratitude he expected brought -tears to my eyes. "No one <i>ever</i> had such a husband as mine!"</p> - -<p>He beamed complacently, and sat down beside me, inconveniently close. -With his arm round my waist, he helped me to pour out the coffee, and -spilled it on the cloth; he fed me with the best of the mushrooms and -morsels of beef steak, and wiped gravy from my lips with his own napkin. -He seemed to feel that I needed some extra comfort to make up for the -children's absence, though he said repeatedly that it was only fitting -we should have our wedding-day, whether gold, silver, or pewter, to -ourselves.</p> - -<p>"As for you," he said, "I declare you don't look a day older than when I -married you, Polly. Oh, well, a little fuller in the figure, perhaps; -but that's an improvement. Old Saunders is quite right—you can beat -the young girls still."</p> - -<p>I told him he could beat the young men in the making of pretty speeches, -and I pretended not to believe his flatteries; but I knew that he meant -every word he said, being the sincerest of men. And my spirits rose by -leaps and bounds, until I felt even younger than I looked, and like a -real bride once more, just as if those strenuous intermediate years had -dropped out of the calendar. The barometer was rising too. Before we had -finished our mushrooms the rain had all passed off, and the sun was -shining on a clean and fragrant earth. Everything outside glittered and -shimmered. It was a thoroughly bridal morning, after all.</p> - -<p>"And now, what shall we do?" my husband inquired, having lit his pipe -and taken a rapid glance over the newspaper. "We must do something to -celebrate the day. What shall it be?"</p> - -<p>"It doesn't much matter what, so long as we do it together," was my -reply. "But I think I should like to go out somewhere, shouldn't you? -It is going to be the perfection of weather."</p> - -<p>"Oh, we'll go out, of course. We'll have a day's sight-seeing, and our -lunch in town. Let's see"—we studied the "Amusements" column, as we had -so often seen the children do—"there's the Cyclorama; we have never -seen the Cyclorama yet, and I'm told it's splendid."</p> - -<p>"And it is years since we were at the Picture Gallery," I remarked. -"There must be dozens of pictures there that we have never seen."</p> - -<p>"We might go to the Zoölogical Gardens. If there was one thing more than -another that I was fond of as a boy it was a wild beast show. They feed -them at four o'clock."</p> - -<p>"Yes, and the seals at the Aquarium too. I remember seeing the seals fed -at Exhibition time. It was most interesting."</p> - -<p>"And they've got Deeming at the Waxworks, Harry says——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Tom—waxworks! However, I don't see why we shouldn't go to -waxworks if we feel inclined. We are free agents. There is nobody to -criticise us now."</p> - -<p>I began to feel that it was really almost a relief to be without the -children, just for once in a way. Children are so dreadfully severe and -proper in their views of what fathers and mothers ought to do.</p> - -<p>"Well, go and get your things on," said my husband, "while I have a look -round outside."</p> - -<p>He dashed off to see that pigs and fowls were fed, and the boy started -on his day's work; and I ran into the kitchen to tell Jane not to cook -anything, and upstairs to change my dress and put on my best bonnet. In -our haste to make the most of our holiday, we frisked about like young -dogs let off the chain. It did not matter how undignified it looked, -since there was nobody to laugh at us.</p> - -<p>Before ten o'clock we were off, and before eleven we were in Melbourne, -sliding up Collins Street on a tram dummy, on our way to the Cyclorama. -The Picture Gallery had been set down as a first item of the -programme—it opened at ten, and one had the place to one's self during -the forenoon—but afterwards we put it at the bottom of the list, and -finally struck it out altogether. Our feeling was that we could do -pictures at any time—pictures were things young people would thoroughly -approve of as an amusement for parents—but that we could not always do -exactly as we liked. So we went to the Cyclorama first, and were so -intensely interested that we stayed there nearly an hour. We had read of -the battle of Waterloo in our school books, but never realised it in the -least; now we were like eye-witnesses of the fight, and the whole thing -was clear to us. A soldier amongst the spectators pointed out a number -of mistakes in the arrangements of troops and guns, but we did not -understand them, and did not want to; indeed, we would not listen to -him. We moved round and round in our dark watch-tower to the quiet -places, and gazed over the far-stretching fields with more delight than -our first peep-show at an English fair had given us. The illusion of -distance was so complete that it corrected all crudities of detail, and -we simply lost ourselves in the romance of the past and our own -imaginations.</p> - -<p>"Never saw anything so wonderful in my life," said Tom, as at last we -tore ourselves away. "I seem to smell that chateau burning, and to hear -those poor chaps groaning with their wounds. I'm glad we went, aren't -you, Polly?"</p> - -<p>I truthfully replied that I was very glad indeed, and we emerged into -the street, and he hailed a passing tram. Again we took our places on -the dummy, that we might see and feel as much of the bright day as -possible. Melbourne was still gay and busy, in spite of gloomy -commercial forecasts, and the weather was all that a perfect autumn -morning could make it. The sun shone now with an evident intention to -continue doing so till bed-time, and we basked in it on the dummy seat -like two cats.</p> - -<p>"What shall we do next?" asked Tom, consulting his watch. "It is not -near lunch-time yet. We must get an appetite for the sort of meal I mean -to have to-day."</p> - -<p>Before we could make up our minds what to do next, the tram had carried -us into Burke Street, and lo! there was the temple of the waxworks -staring us in the face. Tom signalled the conductor, and we jumped off, -hand in hand, and without a word made our way to the door of the show -which we had heard even young children speak of as beneath -contempt—only fit for bloodthirsty schoolboys of the lower orders and -louts from the country who knew no better.</p> - -<p>Well, we were from the country; and, whatever the artistic shortcomings -of this exhibition, it had the charm of novelty at any rate. Neither of -us had been to waxworks since we were taken as infants to Madame -Tussaud's. This was a far cry from Madame Tussaud's, but I must confess -that it amused us very well for half an hour. The effigies were full of -humour, and the instruments of torture in the chamber of horrors very -real and creepy. Also there were some relics of old colonial days that -were decidedly interesting. In short, we did not feel that we had wasted -time and two shillings when we had gone through the place, though we -pretended to have done so, laughing at each other, saying, "How silly we -are!"</p> - -<p>"Well, let's be silly," said Tom, at last. "There's no law against that, -that I know of."</p> - -<p>"None whatever," I gaily responded. "There's nobody to——"</p> - -<p>"Hush!" he exclaimed, interrupting what I was going to say with a sharp -snatch at my arm. We were just leaving the waxworks, and he pulled me -back within the door.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" I cried, bewildered by his sudden action and tone -of alarm.</p> - -<p>"Come back—come back!" he whispered excitedly. "For Heaven's sake, -don't let her see us!"</p> - -<p>"Who? who?"</p> - -<p>He pointed to the street, and I had a momentary glimpse of our daughter -Phyllis going by in her husband's buggy. Edmund, in his tall town hat, -which glittered in the sun, was driving her himself; she sat beside him -under her parasol, calm, matronly, dignified, a model of all propriety. -How would she have looked if she had seen her mother coming out of the -waxworks? It was quite a shock to think of it.</p> - -<p>"She has been shopping," said Tom casually, "and Ted's been out after -patients, and has picked her up, sending the groom home. It isn't every -Collins Street doctor who'd let his wife be seen with him in the -professional vehicle. Ted's a good fellow and a first-rate husband. We -have a lot to be thankful for, Polly."</p> - -<p>"We have," I assented, drawing a long breath of relief. For the moment I -was most thankful that my dear girl, whom I had so yearned for, was out -of sight. The coast was clear, and we sallied forth once more in pursuit -of our own devices. Being still not quite as hungry as Tom desired, we -strolled around the block and looked in at the shop windows—the -florists, the milliners, the photographers.</p> - -<p>"Do you remember," said Tom, as we gazed upon a galaxy of Melbourne -beauties smiling down upon the street, "how we had our likenesses taken -in our wedding clothes?"</p> - -<p>"And, oh, such clothes!" I interjected. "A flounced skirt over a -crinoline, a spoon bonnet——"</p> - -<p>"It was the image of you, my dear, and I wouldn't part with that picture -for the world. I say, let's go and be done now. I'd like a memento of -this day, to look at when the golden wedding comes. Just as you are, in -that nice tailor tweed—in your prime, Polly."</p> - -<p>I told him it was nonsense, but he would have it. The people said they -would be ready for us at 2.30, and when we had had an immense lunch, and -were both looking red and puffy after it, we were photographed together, -like any pair of cheap trippers—I sitting in an attitude, with my head -screwed round, he standing over me, with a hand on my shoulder. The -result may now be seen in a handsome frame on his smoking-room -mantelpiece; He thinks it beautiful.</p> - -<p>After the operation we had a cup of tea in the nearest restaurant, and -by that time it was too late to think of the Zoölogical Gardens, which -closed at five, and required a whole day to reveal all their treasures. -But we thought we might be in time to see the seals fed, and so took -tram again for the Exhibition building. As we entered the Aquarium -through the green gloom of the Fernery, we heard the creatures barking, -and saw the keeper walking towards the tanks with his basket of fish. We -were in good time, and there was no great crowd to-day, so that we could -stand close to the iron bars and see all the tricks of the man and the -beasts, which were unspeakably funny. I don't know when I have laughed -so much as I laughed that afternoon. And Tom was just as much amused as -I was.</p> - -<p>But when the last fish had been thrown and caught, and we sat down on a -bench to rest for a minute, he fell suddenly silent, and I thought he -appeared a little tired.</p> - -<p>"I know what it is," I said, looking at him. "You are just dying for a -pipe."</p> - -<p>"No," he answered; "at least, not particularly. But I'll tell you what I -do seem to long for, Polly, and that's a sight of blue water. Looking at -those creatures diving and splashing somehow reminds me of it. I haven't -seen the sea for months."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you poor boy!" I exclaimed, jumping up. "Why didn't you say so at -first—at the beginning of the day? I never once thought of it. Of -course we ought to have been beside the sea on our silver -wedding-day—the sea that married us in the beginning—or else on it. -Let us get down to Swanston Street at once, and take a St. Kilda tram. -There is time to reach the pier before the sun goes down, and we can -stay there till dark, and dine at the Esplanade. It will be a nice long -ride, and you can have your pipe on the dummy as we go."</p> - -<p>"All right," he said, with renewed alacrity. "Mind you, Polly, I -couldn't have enjoyed the day more than I have done, so far as it has -gone; but a sniff of brine to top up with will just make it perfect."</p> - -<p>So we had our sniff of brine. It took three-quarters of an hour to get -it, but the drive was delightful in the fresh evening air; the rain had -laid the dust of that dustiest of Melbourne roads, and C-spring -barouches are not easier to travel in than the cable tramcars on it. Tom -had the comfort of his pipe, allowable on the dummy; and the scent of -his good tobacco, which the breeze carried from me, was a scent I loved -for its associations' sake. When we got to St. Kilda the sun was low; no -effect of atmosphere and sea water could have been more lovely. It was -only bay water, to be sure, but it was salt, and it sufficed. We called -in at the hotel to order our dinner, and walked down and out to the end -of the pier, and sat there silently until the ruddy full moon rose. At -night, when all was white and shining, we returned there and sat for an -hour more, hand in hand.</p> - -<p>"What it must be," said Tom, soliloquising, "outside!"</p> - -<p>"Ah-h!" I sighed deeply. The same thought had been in both our minds all -through the silence which he had broken with his remark. If he had not -made it, I should have done so. In imagination we were "outside" -together, as in our youth; the scent of sea in the brisk air had acted -on us like the familiar touch of a mesmerist on a subject long -surrendered to his power; the nostalgia of the seafarer, the -sea-lover—which is a thing no other person can understand—had taken -hold of us; it was as if some long silent mother-voice called to us -across the bay, "Come home, come home!"</p> - -<p>Near us, sheltered in the angle of the pier, a bunch of sail boats -tugged gently at their ropes; the flopping, squelching sound made by the -run of the tide between and under them was sweet in our ears, like an -old song. A little way off some yachts of the local club lay each at its -own moorings, a hull and a bare pole, ink-black on the shining water. -Tom was no yachtsman, of course; he even had a contempt for the modern -egg-shell craft, all sail and spar, in which the young men out of the -shops and offices raced for cups on summer Saturdays; they were as -children's toys in his estimation. But a boat is a boat, and, feeling as -I did, and thinking of the remark he had made in the Aquarium, and how I -had unaccountably forgotten what we ought to have done on our silver -wedding-day, I said—</p> - -<p>"Why shouldn't we have a silver honeymoon, and spend it at sea?"</p> - -<p>Though he did not answer at once, and though his face was turned from me -towards an incoming steamer, a distant streak of shadow sprinkled with -lights, that he was trying to identify, I knew that he jumped straight -at the suggestion with all his heart.</p> - -<p>"Hm-m," he mused; "ha-hm-m. That's not a bad idea of yours, Polly. I -daresay it might be done, if you think you'd like it. We have no -children to tie us at home—Harry would keep an eye on the pigs and -things—it would do us all the good in the world—by Jove, yes!" He sat -erect and alert. "Why, the very thought of it makes me feel twenty years -younger. I don't see why we shouldn't have a silver honeymoon while we -are about it. But what sort of a trip do you fancy? Portland and -Warrnambool? Tasmania? New Zealand? I'm afraid Europe is a bit too large -an order."</p> - -<p>"Nothing of that sort at all," I urged; "but something that we can do -all by ourselves, without being interfered with." I pointed to the boats -near us. "A yachting cruise to some of the places I have never seen, if -you could find a strong, homely sort of yacht, with bulwarks and a cabin -in it. Perhaps a hired man or two—yes, that would even give us greater -freedom—if there was a place for them to sleep in away from us."</p> - -<p>I enlarged upon my idea, while he listened and nodded, proposing -amendments here and there; then he jumped up in his resolute way, -lifting me with him.</p> - -<p>"Let us get home and to bed," said he, "and I'll be up first thing in -the morning to see about it. We must save this weather and the moon—the -honeymoon, Polly."</p> - -<p>We bustled back to town. And whom should we meet in the tram but an old -brother salt, who knew exactly what we wanted and where it was to be -had—a stout, yawl-rigged craft with something beside lead keel under -water, not too smart to look at, but able to travel, and warranted safe -"outside" as no ordinary pleasure yacht could be. One day sufficed to -stock this vessel with our requirements, and on the morning of the next -we set sail, with one quiet man for crew, and a minute dinghy behind us, -bound for no port in particular, and to no programme—determined to be -free for once, if we never were again. The children thought us quite -silly, naturally. I believe Harry felt it something of a hardship to -have to give up Emily's society occasionally for the sake of the pigs, -and I am sure, though I did not hear them, that Phyllis and Lily made -remarks on their poor dear mother's erratic fancies, and the way poor -father gave in to them. Phyllis took the opportunity of my absence to -"settle up the house," as she called it—meaning my house, and that -matters there had fallen into a sad state since she had ceased to -superintend them.</p> - -<p>But we were emancipated now. We were out of school. I was able to -wear—what they had considered inappropriate for years—a hat to keep -off the hot sea sunshine, which burns old faces as badly as young ones; -and I could fish, and paddle barefoot, and sing, and talk nonsense to -Tom to my heart's content, with no sense of appearing ridiculous or -undignified to anybody. The crew was an old Bendigo hand, about the age -of my father, devoted to us both; and Tom was like a boy again, with the -tiller in his hand. What ages it was since he had steered a sailing -boat, of any sort or size! Yet even I could tell the difference in a -moment, as soon as he took the helm. Not only did he make the yawl do -exactly what he wanted, but he seemed to know exactly what <i>she</i> wanted -as well. It was the same sort of sympathy as that between a perfect -rider and a horse that thoroughly understands and trusts him. Some -people—good seamen in everything else—can never steer like that, -although they may have been a lifetime at it. It is an instinct, like -good riding, inherited and not acquired. Tom's people had been sailors -since the Battle of the Nile.</p> - -<p>How he <i>did</i> love it, to be sure! And <i>what</i> a holiday that was! We had -our little discomforts of various kinds, and I was seasick for a night -and seedy all the day afterwards; but these trifles were of no account -in the sum of our vast enjoyment, and cannot even be remembered now. -Looking back on that cruise—that last cruise—perhaps the very last in -life—it is one idyllic dream, simply. I find it hard to believe that it -could have happened in such a prosaic world.</p> - -<p>I daresay that much of the fairyland feeling was due to weather. There -is no weather on earth like Australian weather for making holiday -in—that is, when it is good. What fell to us on this memorable occasion -was as good as good could be—fine and fresh by day, calm and beautiful -by night, with various effects of moonlight, each sweeter than the rest. -The beginnings of the days were the best of them, perhaps. We went to -bed betimes—in that not too spacious chamber of ours between the big -and the little masts—and so were ready to see the sunrise, to bathe -ourselves in the clean, sharp, early morning air, to set about clearing -up the cabin, airing the mattresses on deck, frying the eggs and bacon -or newly caught fish, and cooking the coffee over the spirit stove, -before the land people were astir, every vein in our bodies thrilling to -the salt breeze, tingling with health, and our appetites keen as razors. -Later, we would visit the shore for provisions, for newspapers, for a -hotel meal, to send inquiring telegrams to our family and await replies, -to amuse ourselves with a ramble in the bush or through the bay -watering-places whose summer season had ebbed away from them. Later -still, I lay prone on deck, snoozing over a novel, while Tom and the -crew sailed the boat, and smoked, and talked shop in contented growls, a -couple of sentences at a time. Then tea, and washing up, and the fishing -lines got out; and the sweet twilight that, when it became darkness, was -too cold to sit in; and the lamp lit in the little -cabin—yawns—bed—the stirless sleep of nerves at peace and digestion -in perfect order.</p> - -<p>It was almost the same "outside" as in—not a cat's-paw squall molested -us. There was sea enough for good sea-sailing, but not enough to wet me -or my little house below—not till we got to Warrnambool, where, being -weather-bound for a day or two, we had the joy of seeing great breakers -again. They thundered on the rocky shore like cannons going off; they -flung foam over the breakwater; they would not let the Flinders come in. -We sat on a brown boulder a whole morning and a whole afternoon to look -at and listen to them, as one would listen to some archangel of a -Paderewski.</p> - -<p>Ah me, how happy we were! The second honeymoon, like the second -wedding-day, was miles better than the first. We married for love, if -two people ever did, not having fifty pounds between us, but my old -bridegroom was a truer lover than my young one. He said the same of his -old bride. We were like travellers that have climbed to a noble -mountain-top and sit down to rest and survey the arduous road by which -they came—all rosy in the bloom of sunset—and the poor things still -struggling up, not seeing what they head for. I never had such a rest in -my life before, and we had never, in all our twenty-five years of dear -companionship, been at such perfect peace together. There was only one -little cloud, and that passed in a moment. Tom said—it was a mere -thoughtless jest, for he did not mean to be unkind—that our divine -tranquillity was due to there being no person near for me to be jealous -of. I ought to have laughed at such an obviously absurd remark, but I am -dreadfully sensitive to anything like injustice, and was foolish enough -to feel hurt that he could say such a thing, even in fun. <i>I</i> jealous! -I may have my faults—nobody is perfect in this world—but at least I -cannot be justly accused of condescending to petty ones of that sort.</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h3> - -<h3>GRANDMAMMA.</h3> - - -<p>"Good-morning, Grandmamma!"</p> - -<p>I was in my kitchen after breakfast, seeing about the dinner—calmly -slicing French beans, because it was Monday morning and Jane was helping -the washwoman—when I was suddenly accosted in this extraordinary way. -With a jump that might have caused me to cut my fingers, I turned my -head, and there in the doorway stood my son-in-law, Edmund Juke, panting -from his bicycle, and grinning idiotically, as if he had said something -very funny. By what he had said, and by the expression of his face, and -by seeing him miles away from his consulting-room at that hour of the -day, I knew, of course, what had happened. My heart was in my mouth.</p> - -<p>"What—what—you don't say—not really?" I gasped, scattering the beans, -cut and uncut, together about the floor as I sprang to meet him. "Why, -it isn't nearly time yet!"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, it is," said he. "Everything is all right. The finest boy you -ever saw, and she doing as well as possible. I would not let any one but -myself bring you the good news, Mater dear"—and here he kissed me, more -affectionately than usual—"ill as I could spare the time. I knew you'd -be easier in your mind, too——"</p> - -<p>"But I am <i>not</i> easy in my mind," I broke in, excessively concerned -about my child, and beginning to see that I had not been fairly treated -in the matter. "I am quite sure it is premature, whatever you may say. -Phyllis distinctly gave me to understand that it was a month off, at -least. Otherwise should I be here?"</p> - -<p>"It is an easy thing to make mistakes about, as you know. I can assure -you there is nothing wrong in any way. You must allow a medical -man—two medical men, for Errington attended her—to be the judge of -that," said he, with the airs a young doctor gives himself when he has -begun to make a name.</p> - -<p>I was indeed thankful to hear him say so, but still I could not quite -understand it. I wondered if it were possible—but no, it could not be! -The cruel suspicion having entered my mind, however, I felt obliged to -speak of it.</p> - -<p>"I am not to suppose, am I, that Phyllis <i>wished</i> to deceive her own -mother—and on such a point?"</p> - -<p>Edmund at once replied, stormily, that I was certainly not to suppose -any such preposterous thing; but he protested over much, I thought, and -grew red in the face as he did so. I thought it not improbable that <i>he</i> -had suggested my being put off the scent—he, who seemed to have known -just when the baby was to be expected; afterwards I was sure of it. My -own dear girl would have been incapable of such an idea.</p> - -<p>I asked Edmund the hour at which the event had taken place. He said at a -little before three that morning. It was now between nine and ten—as I -pointed out. He said they had all been glad of a little sleep after -their excitement, and that he had come as soon as he could get away. He -had also ridden at racing pace, averaging I don't know how many miles an -hour. No, the buggy would not have been quicker, even with a pair, and -he had wanted his wheel for refreshment and exercise. Of course he could -not take me back on it, but there was no hurry about that. He had left -Phyllis sleeping as soundly as a top, and the longer she was undisturbed -the better.</p> - -<p>"Certainly," I said, with rigid face and shaking heart. "And it is right -that I should be there to see that she is undisturbed. I ought to have -been there <i>hours</i> ago, Edmund, and I can't <i>think</i> why you did not send -for me—her own mother—the very <i>first</i> person who should have been -informed."</p> - -<p>He began to make all sorts of lame excuses.</p> - -<p>"You see, Mater dear, the telegraph offices are not open on Sundays."</p> - -<p>"Was it Sunday? So long ago as yesterday? And where were the buggy and -the bicycle—not to speak of the trains?"</p> - -<p>"The buggy and the bicycle were there, but I had to send the groom -hunting for Errington, and of course I could not leave her myself. There -was not a soul to take a message to you, Mater dear. Besides, there was -no earthly use in giving you an upset for nothing. We soon saw that -everything was going on beautifully—otherwise, of <i>course</i>, you would -have been fetched at once—and so we thought you might as well be spared -all the worry—you would have worried frightfully, you know—and that we -would give you a pleasant surprise when it was all over. And now you -don't seem half grateful to us for being so thoughtful about you."</p> - -<p>He laughed at this poor joke. I could not laugh. My heart was too full.</p> - -<p>"Poor, poor, <i>poor</i> girl!" I passionately exclaimed. "To face that trial -for the first time—terrified to death, naturally——"</p> - -<p>"Oh dear, no," he interposed, in his flippant way. "I am proud to inform -you that Phyllis conducted herself like a perfect lady. She was as calm -as possible."</p> - -<p>"How can you tell how calm she was?" I thundered at him. "You know -nothing about it, though you are a doctor. <i>I</i> know—I know what she had -to go through! And no one near her to help her with a word of comfort, -except a hired person—one of your precious hospital nurses that are -mere iron-nerved machines—women who might as well be men for all the -feelings they've got!"</p> - -<p>"But she had—she had," cried Edmund, hastily. "She had my mother near -her—one of the kindest old souls that ever breathed."</p> - -<p>"<i>What?</i>"</p> - -<p>I stared at him, petrified with astonishment and indignation. <i>His</i> -mother assisting at the confinement of <i>my</i> daughter! And <i>I</i> shut out! -I could not believe it for the moment—that they would deliberately put -such an insult upon me.</p> - -<p>Edmund said it was not done deliberately, but was a pure accident. "It -just happened," he said, "that she chanced to be in the house yesterday. -She came in after morning church, as she often does, and seeing that -something was up——"</p> - -<p>"What—as early as yesterday morning!" I burst out, thoroughly and -justifiably angry now, and not caring to hide it. "You mean to say -Phyllis was taken ill in the <i>morning</i>, Edmund, and you did not let me -know? Oh, this is too much!"</p> - -<p>Of course he hastened to excuse himself—with what I feel sure, though I -am sorry to say it, was a barefaced lie. He declared she was not taken -ill in the morning—not until quite late in the day—but that she was a -little restless and nervous, and his mother had stayed to cheer her.</p> - -<p>"Mother is such a bright, calm-minded, capable old body," he said—as if -I were a dull, hysterical fool—"and she has had such swarms upon -swarms of children, and such oceans of sick-nursing, and Phyllis is so -fond of her, and as you were not get-at-able, Mater dear——"</p> - -<p>Oh, it was sickening! I hadn't patience to listen to him, with his -"Mater dears" and his hypocritical pretences. I saw clearly that it had -been what Harry would call a put-up thing; he had preferred old Mrs. -Juke—a woman of no education, with a figure like a sack of flour tied -round the middle—to me. I suppose his friends had been twitting him -about the tyrannical mother-in-law, in the vulgar conventional way; or -he had been afraid that I would dispute his authority and orders in the -sick-room; or perhaps, to do him justice—he had thought nothing of an -affair which was in his daily experience, although it was his own wife -concerned. In any case, I was sure that Phyllis had not been to blame. -However fond she might be of Mrs. Juke—and probably she feigned -affection to some extent, for her husband's sake —it was her own -mother she would long for at such a time. And her mother she should -have, or I'd know the reason why.</p> - -<p>"It is not my fault that I was un-get-at-able yesterday," I said to -Edmund, quietly but firmly. "At any rate I am get-at-able now. I see you -are in a fidget to be after your patients—go, my dear, and tell her I -will be with her in an hour or two. Oh, I daresay there <i>is</i> no -hurry—from your point of view; I am of a different opinion. I am a -woman—<i>and</i> a mother; I understand these things. You don't—and never -could—not if you were fifty times a doctor."</p> - -<p>"All right," he returned cheerfully, or with assumed cheerfulness. "I am -sure she will be delighted to see you. Only we shall have to keep her -very quiet for the next few days—not let her talk and argue and excite -herself, you know——"</p> - -<p>I laughed—I could not help it—and waved him off. I told him to get -himself some beer, or whatever he fancied, and not to suppose that he -could teach me mother's duties at my time of life. And in a few minutes -he went flying back to town, and I sought my dear husband, where he was -busy digging in the vegetable garden, and flung myself weeping into his -grubby arms.</p> - -<p>Tom, too, was quite overcome. Not nearly so surprised as I expected him -to be, but tremulous in his agitation, and almost speechless at first. -For a tough old sailor as he is, he has the softest heart I know.</p> - -<p>"My little girl!" he murmured huskily, and cleared his throat again and -again. "And it was only the other day that she was a baby herself. Makes -us feel very ancient, don't it?"</p> - -<p>"<i>No</i>," I returned emphatically. "I don't feel ancient in the <i>very</i> -least. And you, my dear, are in your prime. It is simply an absurdity -that we should be grandparents."</p> - -<p>"Well, it does seem rather ridiculous in your case," he rejoined—my -sweet old fellow!—"with your brown hair and bright eyes and figure -straight as a dart. But I——"</p> - -<p>"But you," I insisted, "are just as handsome as ever you were—worth a -dozen priggish little whipper-snappers like Edmund Juke."</p> - -<p>"Oh! What has Edmund Juke been doing?"</p> - -<p>"He let her be ill yesterday—<i>all</i> yesterday—and never sent for me to -be with her!" I sobbed, feeling sure of sympathy here, if nowhere else. -"Did you ever know of a mother being treated so before?"</p> - -<p>But Tom—even Tom—was unsympathetic and disappointing. He did not -exclaim and protest on my behalf—did not seem to see how unnatural it -was, and what a slight had been put upon me—but just patted my shoulder -and stroked my hair, as if I were a mere fretful child.</p> - -<p>"If you ask me," he said, when I pressed him to speak his mind, "I must -say that I think they showed their sense, Polly. And it's a great relief -to me, my dear, on your account. You are so highly strung, pet, that you -can't stand things like other people. You'd have been worse than -Phyllis. Whereas a placid old Gamp like Mother Juke——"</p> - -<p>"<i>Tom!</i>" I broke in sharply. "<i>Who</i> told you that Mother Juke was -there?"</p> - -<p>"Nobody," said he, with a disconcerted look. "I only thought it likely -that she might be. Was she not?"</p> - -<p>"She was. But I want to know why you concluded that she was, when I had -not mentioned the fact?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't conclude it. I only knew that she was keeping an eye on the -child, being so experienced, and living so handy."</p> - -<p>"How did you know?"</p> - -<p>"Ted told me—in a casual way—a good bit ago—I forget exactly -when——"</p> - -<p>"Tom——"</p> - -<p>But Tom pulled out his watch hastily, plainly anxious to avoid the -corner he felt himself being pushed into.</p> - -<p>"Look here, Polly, if you want to catch that train, and have to pack -your bag before you start, there's not a minute to lose. Now that she -knows you know, she'll be looking out for you—wanting to show her baby -to her mother, bless her little heart! And a fine boy too. I'm glad the -first is a boy—though I'm sure I don't know why I should be, for the -girls are far and away the best, to my thinking—girls that grow up to -be good and pretty women, treasures to the lucky men who get them—like -you."</p> - -<p>Silly fellow! But he means it all. There are no empty pretences about -Tom. To him there is one perfect being in the world, and that's his -wife. It comforted me to feel that I was appreciated in one quarter, -whatever I might be in others, and the mention of the baby made me -forget everything but my longing to have him in my arms.</p> - -<p>"I will go at once," I said, "and you must come too, dearest. You must -support me against the Juke faction. You must see that your child's -mother has her rights."</p> - -<p>"Oh, rights be blowed!" he replied, rather rudely. "There's nobody will -dream of disputing them. You don't know what a humble-minded, unselfish, -dear old soul that mother of Ted's is; she wouldn't deny the rights of -a sucking-pig—let alone an important person like you."</p> - -<p>"Your mind is always running on pigs," I laughed. "And I am sure that -old creature is just like a great sow fattened up for the Agricultural -Show. She grunts as she walks—if you can call it walking—and you -almost want bullocks to get her out of an armchair when she has once -sunk into it."</p> - -<p>"Well, that isn't her fault," Tom commented, grave as a judge.</p> - -<p>"Of course it isn't," I acquiesced. "She is getting into years now."</p> - -<p>"So are we all."</p> - -<p>"Yes. But she is fifteen years older than I am, if she's a day."</p> - -<p>"Fifteen years'll fly over <i>us</i> before we know it, Polly. And then <i>you</i> -won't like to be crowed over, I'll bet."</p> - -<p>"Who's crowing? I merely state a fact. She is."</p> - -<p>"Then all the more reason why you should be grateful to her."</p> - -<p>"Grateful to her for usurping my rights——"</p> - -<p>"Nonsense!"</p> - -<p>He had one of his short moods on him, when it is better not to argue -with him. Besides, there was no time for argument. He led the way to the -house, pulling down his shirt-sleeves. He said he would have a wash and -put on his coat and take me to Phyllis's house, and see the baby if -allowed to do so; but he would not promise to stay more than a few -minutes. He did not want, he said, to put them about, when already they -had so much to attend to. Talk of humble-mindedness! His -humble-mindedness makes me want to shake him sometimes. Off the sea he -seemed to forget that he was a commander—a character that Nature -intended him to maintain, wherever he was. One had but to look at him to -see that.</p> - -<p>I had to make so many preparations for his comfort and for the proper -safeguarding of Lily in my absence, which I supposed likely to run into -a week or two, that it was noon before I could be ready to set forth. -So I yielded to Tom's suggestion that we should have our usual one -o'clock dinner before starting, and drive ourselves to town in the -afternoon. He wanted to take in the buggy for stores. He could see me -"comfortably settled," he said, and do his necessary business at the -same time.</p> - -<p>Alas! How little we anticipated the circumstances of the return journey! -No one could have been happier than I, as I sat beside him behind our -fast-trotting Parson—we called him Parson because of his peculiar -rusty-black colour and a white mark on his chest—talking of the -grandchild we were going to see, and all the family affairs involved in -his arrival. It never crossed our minds for a moment that he was -bringing, not peace, but a sword.</p> - -<p>In our excess of considerateness we drove to livery stables, and there -put up our trap; then we walked quietly to Phyllis's house, and Tom -slunk away somewhere, like a rat into a hole, as soon as we were -admitted. His anxiety to be "out of the road" was really undignified. -Of course I made straight for my daughter's room.</p> - -<p>The large dining-room was full of waiting patients; I counted three -women and a child as I passed up the hall. Whatever Edmund's faults, he -is one of the cleverest and most sought after doctors in Melbourne. I -have heard Mary Welshman and others boasting about Fitzherbert, and -Groom, and Sewell, and the rest, but not one of them is to be named in -the same day with my son-in-law. Phyllis was obliged to use a little -room on the first floor for meals, on account of the lower part of the -house being so overrun; and the poor parlourmaid spent her entire time -in answering the door.</p> - -<p>Creeping upstairs, with my noiseless, sick-room step, I met old Mother -Juke, as Tom calls her, lumping down, with the gait of a rheumatic -elephant. She seemed to shake the very street. How my poor child could -stand such a woman about her, at such a time, I could not imagine; it -would have driven me into a fever. Of course she is kind and -well-meaning enough—she can't help her age and her physical -infirmities—I know that. And it is quite true that she has been a great -nurse in her day. But her day is past.</p> - -<p>"Good-morning, Mrs. Juke," I said pleasantly, as we met and paused on a -little landing at the turn of the stairs, "you are here early."</p> - -<p>Scarcely had I opened my mouth when the mountain fell on me, as it were; -the old thing put her huge arms about my neck and kissed me. I have -always objected to being slobbered over by comparative strangers, and I -did not return the kiss; nevertheless I treated her with the courtesy -that I felt due to my son-in-law's mother.</p> - -<p>"And so," I said, smiling, "you have all been conspiring together to -steal a march on me! You have been jumping my claim, as the miners -say—defrauding a poor woman of her natural rights."</p> - -<p>"Nothing of the sort, my dear," she replied, in her fat voice—and if -there is one thing that I dislike more than another is to be -"my-deared" in this promiscuous fashion. "You were best out of it, with -your feeling heart. It would only have upset you, my dear, and that -would have upset her; and then Ted would have been in a way, and Captain -Braye would have blamed us. I am sure <i>he</i> is grateful, if nobody else -is."</p> - -<p>"He is nothing of the sort," I cried, flaming. "My husband is perfectly -astounded at the way I have been shut out. He never heard of such a -thing as a mother being set aside at such a time."</p> - -<p>She was at a loss for an answer to this, so fell back upon praises of -the baby and of Phyllis's satisfactory condition. There was nothing, she -said, that could give me the faintest cause for uneasiness, nor had been -from the first—nor would be, provided she were kept quiet and free from -all excitement. And we ought to be humbly thankful that this was so—to -feel nothing but joy that she had done so excellently, and that the -child was so strong and beautiful.</p> - -<p>"That is all very well," I remarked. "But that is not the point. What I -want to know is—and I intend to have an answer—whose doing it was that -I was not sent for yesterday morning?—that I was kept in utter -ignorance of the most important event that has ever occurred in my -family—when, for all you people did to prevent it, my daughter might -have died without my seeing her again!"</p> - -<p>We were now in the little first-floor sitting-room, just off the stairs. -It was between three and four, and the luncheon things were not cleared -away. Indeed the house seemed completely disorganised, having no one to -look after it. Old Mrs. Juke, who did not seem to notice this, stood -just within the door, puffing like a porpoise, and trying to look -dignified, which was quite impossible.</p> - -<p>"I am very sorry you take it in this way," she said, in a hoity-toity -tone. "We may have made a mistake, but, if we did, we made it with the -best intentions. All we thought of was to save you useless pain. We -knew your nervous, anxious temperament, and how keenly you feel anything -affecting your children; and so we decided——"</p> - -<p>"It was not a matter for you to decide," I broke in, with natural -asperity. "I am neither a baby nor an idiot. I have at least as much -sense as any one in this house—I should be sorry for myself, indeed, if -I had not—and I prefer to attend to my own business, if it's all the -same to you. Whether I should be here, or whether I should not, was for -<i>me</i> to say—for me and for my daughter. She, I am very certain, had no -part in shutting me out; and she ought to have been considered, if I was -not."</p> - -<p>"It was she," said Mrs. Juke, "who wished it most. Her one desire was to -spare you."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe it."</p> - -<p>"I am sorry if you don't believe it." The old thing shook like -blancmange in hot weather. "I can only say that it is perfectly true."</p> - -<p>"I will ask her if it is true—that she wished to have strangers with -her in place of her own mother."</p> - -<p>I started to cross the landing to Phyllis's room, and my teeth were set, -and my heart was thumping with an emotion that I could scarcely -control—but I need not say I did control it. Mrs. Juke hung on to me to -stop me, pleading that Phyllis and the baby were fast asleep together, -and must not be disturbed; and I asked her how she, who had been a -mother fifteen times, could insult a mother by supposing that she would -be less careful of a sick child than anybody else. If I had gone in -alone I am sure she would not have heard me—Tom says that I walk about -the house as if shod with feathers—but Mrs. Juke would come too, and -there was no hushing that solid tread. I saw my darling start up from -the pillow, frightened out of her sleep by the noise, and the flush come -into her cheeks. And Mrs. Juke cried "There!" reproachfully, as if it -had been my fault.</p> - -<p>At the same moment another stranger came out of Edmund's dressing-room, -and turned upon me like a perfect fury.</p> - -<p>"I must ask you, madam, to be so good as to be quiet," she said. "The -doctor's orders are——"</p> - -<p>But I did not wait to be told by her what the doctor's orders were; I -simply took her by the shoulders, ran her back into the dressing-room, -and locked the door upon her. If Edmund's mother liked to be rude to me, -she could, but I was not going to take impudence from a hospital nurse. -I cannot understand the passion young doctors have for those conceited, -overbearing women. This creature was not even married. What, I wonder, -would <i>my</i> mother have thought of a single woman attending a lady in her -confinement? I call it scandalous.</p> - -<p>When I had got rid of her, I requested Mrs. Juke to retire also, which -she did. I apologised to her if I had said anything that seemed -discourteous in the heat of the moment, for there was a watery look -about her eyes as if she were feeling rather hurt; and I said to her in -a gentle way, that, if she would only for one instant imagine herself in -my place, she could not help admitting that I was more than justified. I -suggested that it would be a kindness to us if she would see what the -servants were about, judging from appearances, they were entirely -neglecting their duties. I mentioned the state of the lunch-table, and -Phyllis broke in to explain that Ted had begun work so late that he had -not yet found time to come up for anything to eat.</p> - -<p>"Never you mind," I said to her, soothing her. "<i>You</i> are not to trouble -your little head about these matters. I am here, darling, and you can -rest from all housekeeping worries now."</p> - -<p>And so at last I had my treasure to myself. She was very fluttery, and -cried a little—which I did not wonder at—but soon composed herself, -and proudly displayed the little one cuddled to her dear breast under -the bedclothes. He was a lovely baby (and at this time of writing is the -most beautiful boy you ever saw—the image of me, Tom says); and I -felt, when I took him into my arms, as if my own happy young mother-days -had come over again.</p> - -<p>"Now, Phyllis dear," I said to her, as I laid him back into his nest, "I -don't want to bother or disturb you in the slightest degree, but I <i>do</i> -want to know whether it was your wish, as Mrs. Juke declares it was——"</p> - -<p>However, before I could get the question out, or she could answer, the -door opened; and there stood the nurse, looking at me with her nasty, -hard eyes, as if I were some venomous reptile; and Errington was behind -her. She had actually been to fetch him—he lived almost next door—in -her rage with me for having had the firmness to keep her in her place. -He was one of these modern young doctors who swear by the new ways, and -of course he believed her tales and took her part against me.</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Braye," he began, trying to be very professional and superior, "I -must beg of you to leave my patient's room. The nurse has my orders not -to allow her to talk or to be agitated in any way. I do not wish her to -see people at present."</p> - -<p>"I will take care," I answered, with dignity, "that she does not see -people."</p> - -<p>"Excuse me—she is seeing people now."</p> - -<p>"I suppose you are not aware," I said, very quietly, "that I am your -patient's mother? It seems to be taken for granted in this house that -such a person does not exist."</p> - -<p>"I am aware of it," he was good enough to admit; "I recognise the fact, -Mrs. Braye, and sympathise with your feelings, believe me. But, if you -will allow me to say so, you are so excitable—you have such a quick, -nervous temperament——"</p> - -<p>"And who has dared to discuss my temperament with you?" I demanded -furiously—for this was the last straw—an utter stranger, a boy young -enough to have been my son! "Where is Dr. Juke? I will ask <i>him</i> to -explain. Mrs. Juke"—she was lurking in the passage outside—"will you -be kind enough to send Edmund to me? After all, he is the medical -authority here."</p> - -<p>Edmund came hurrying up, and I never saw a man look so much like a -whipped dog. He had not the courage of a mouse in the presence of his -colleague. He spread out his hands with a helpless air—said we were all -under Errington's orders, and that he no longer had a say in -anything—in short, left me undefended to be a laughing-stock to those -people.</p> - -<p>I flew downstairs to find Tom, whom I had left in a little office behind -the consulting-room, waiting until I summoned him to see the baby. I -knew what he would think of the way I was being treated, and how he -would vindicate and uphold me. But here I was again frustrated. The -aroma of his strong tobacco was in the air; the ashes from his pipe were -still hot in the tray; but he had vanished. Rushing back into the hall, -I collided with that pert little parlourmaid who answers the door. She -had come to tell me, she said, with an ill-disguised smirk, that Captain -Braye had gone to do some business in the town and would return in the -course of an hour or two. She must have seen that something was the -matter, but she was just as callous as the rest of them.</p> - -<p>I said "Very well," as cheerfully as I could, and sought the only refuge -I knew of—the drawing-room on the first floor. It was dark with drawn -blinds and the tree ferns on the balcony, but not so dark that I could -not see the thick dust on everything; and there were flowers in the -vases that literally stank with decay and the bad water their stalks -were rotting in. Feeling sure that I was safe in this deserted and -neglected place, I closed the door behind me, sank upon a sofa, took out -my pocket-handkerchief, and had a good cry. Any mother, hurt to the -heart as I had been, would have done the same.</p> - -<p>And while I was in the middle of it I heard a gentle creak, and the -rustle of a soft gown, and a step like velvet on the carpet—Edmund -would have a Brussels carpet, instead of the polished boards and rugs -that I advised. Looking up, alarmed and ashamed, whom should I see but -dear little Emily Blount, with her kind, sweet face, full of the love -and sympathy that I was so much in need of. I had always known that she -was one in a thousand, but never had I felt so thankful that my Harry -had made so wise a choice. She had stolen away from her school to hear -how Phyllis was, and, instead of pushing in where she was not wanted, -had crept like a mouse to the empty drawing-room, to wait there until -she could intercept somebody going up or down the stairs. What an -example of good feeling, of good manners, of good breeding and good -taste! I held out my arms to her, and she ran to them, and kissed and -hugged me, crying out to know what was the matter, in the utmost -concern.</p> - -<p>Well, I told her what was the matter—I told her everything; I had to -relieve my overcharged feelings in some way, and, Tom being absent, I -could not have found a truer sympathiser. Words cannot express the -comfort it was to me to know that she would be my real daughter some -day.</p> - -<p>"Emmie," I said to her, as she sat beside me with her arm round my -waist, "promise me that, when <i>you</i> have a baby, you will send for me to -be with you—and send for me <i>in time.</i>"</p> - -<p>She blushed perfectly scarlet—which was silly of her, being a B.A., and -of course not like the ordinary ignorant bread-and-butter miss—but she -laid her little face into my neck in the most tender, confiding way.</p> - -<p>"It is what I should wish," she whispered, "if only my own dear mother -would not think——"</p> - -<p>"Your own mother," I broke in, "has only had you, and I have had four -children. I know much more of those matters than she does, and <i>you</i> -know from experience, having been in the house all through Harry's -illness, what a good nurse I am." I had seen Mrs. Blount once or -twice—a sharp little fidgety woman, who would get dreadfully on the -nerves of an invalid who was at all sensitive. "Besides," I added, "own -mothers as a rule are a mistake on these occasions. They are -over-anxious, and the personal interest is too strong."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I think so—I do think so," she said, agreeing with me at once. "It -is too hard upon them both, unless they are cold-hearted creatures. And -I would much, much rather have you, dearest Mrs. Braye, if I am ever so -happy—so fortunate——"</p> - -<p>"As you will be," I broke in, warmly embracing her. "I am going to talk -to Harry about that little house which he has fallen in love with. I -don't believe in young people wasting the best years of their lives in -waiting for each other."</p> - -<p>We had a nice talk, and I told her how well Phyllis was doing—wonderful -as it was, when one considered the mismanagement that prevailed—and -described the beauty of the baby. Emily said she was satisfied, having -such a report on my authority, and stole away as she had come, with no -noise or fuss. I wanted her to stay with me until Tom returned, but she -pleaded her duties, and I am not the one to dissuade in such a case. -When she was gone I sat alone for a few minutes, calmed and braced, -thinking what I should do; then I heard a step, and Edmund came in.</p> - -<p>"Oh, <i>here</i> you are!" he exclaimed, with forced hilarity. "I've been -hunting for you everywhere. Look here, Mater dear, I'm so awfully -sorry——"</p> - -<p>But I was prepared for these counterfeit apologies, which had no sorrow -in them. I cut him short by inquiring mildly whether Captain Braye was -in the house.</p> - -<p>"Not yet—he's not back yet—he will be soon. But look here, Mrs. Braye, -honestly, I wouldn't have had it happen for a thousand pounds."</p> - -<p>"Then may I ask you, Edmund, kindly to have my portmanteau sent to the -stables? I will join my husband there."</p> - -<p>"No, no," he urged, in a great fluster. "You are not going to leave us. -We sha'n't let you. Your portmanteau is gone to the spare room. You will -stay with Phyllis and the baby, and my mother will go. She is putting -her things on now."</p> - -<p>"Then go and stop her <i>instantly</i>," I cried. "What! Do you suppose I -want her to be slighted and humiliated because I am? Do you want to set -it about everywhere that I turned your mother out of her own son's -house? I have no place here, Edmund—I had forgotten it for the moment, -but I shall not forget it again; she has. Go at once and tell her that, -if she doesn't stay, Phyllis will have no one."</p> - -<p>"And why can't you both stay?" he demanded foolishly.</p> - -<p>"My dear boy," I laughed, "if you think that possible, after what I have -just experienced, you must have a very queer opinion of me. I am not -proud, nor prone to take offence, but one must draw the line somewhere. -Two perfect strangers have turned me out of my daughter's room and -insulted me before my daughter's face, apparently with your approval. I -wonder what the captain will think when he hears of it? It will rather -astonish him, I fancy. Even if I consented to expose myself to further -treatment of the kind, I am quite sure he would not. But I am not the -person to force myself where I am not wanted, Edmund; you ought to know -that by this time."</p> - -<p>And yet I pined to stay. And when he pleaded that they had all done for -the best, according to their lights, and tried to persuade me that the -entire household, including Phyllis, was overwhelmed with grief because -I was offended, I wondered whether I could, with any justice to myself -and Tom, pocket the indignities that I had received. I said to my -son-in-law—</p> - -<p>"Let us understand each other. When you ask me to remain, do you -contemplate keeping on that nurse who was so insolent to me?"</p> - -<p>"Oh," said he, "I don't think she meant to be insolent. She's a -first-class nurse. Very strict ideas about duty, but that's a fault on -the right side, isn't it? Errington got her for us, and as he's -attending Phyllis——"</p> - -<p>"He would still go on attending Phyllis, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I suppose so. Why not?"</p> - -<p>"No reason why not, of course, if you wish it. Only you can hardly blame -me if I prefer not to meet either of them again. Good-bye, Edmund. I -have a little shopping to do. And I hope," I burst out, breaking from -him and running down the stairs, "I hope that when your children grow -up, they won't cast you off in your old age as mine have done."</p> - - - -<hr style="width: 65%;" /> -<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h3> - -<h3>VINDICATED.</h3> - - -<p>Naturally, I did not see much of the Juke household after the affair of -the baby's birth. There is nothing so sad, and so disgraceful to the -parties concerned, as discord in families; but this was no vulgar -quarrel, although several officious busybodies regarded it as such. I -merely took the very broad hint that my son-in-law and his mother had -given me, to the effect that Phyllis by her marriage had passed into -their possession and no more belonged to me. Moreover, one must have -<i>some</i> self-respect, as I represented to Tom, who either could not or -would not recognise the facts of the case, remaining stupidly impervious -to arguments that would have convinced a child; and a proper sense of -dignity is an element of good breeding which I have inherited with my -blood—fortunately or otherwise, as the case may be.</p> - -<p>But I was just as anxious, and even more so, to be assured that all was -well. <i>My</i> feelings towards my own kith and kin can know no change. -Therefore I sent Tom to Melbourne every morning to make inquiries. -Perhaps he would have gone in any case, for his own satisfaction, but he -was not the messenger I should have chosen had there been a choice. -Unfortunately, he was the only one available. Without, I am sure, -meaning to be disloyal to me, he would stay there half the day, smoke -with Edmund, lunch with Mrs. Juke, pay Phyllis visits in her room, and -generally allow himself to be cajoled into forgetting the actual state -of things—making me cheap as well as himself, and putting me into a -most false and ignominious position. And then he would come back laden -with "best loves" and "when was I coming to see them again?" and "Baby -was wondering what he had done to be deserted by his dear grandmamma," -and rubbish of that sort, which any one but he must have seen was -simply insulting under the circumstances, and which sometimes drove me -wild. His weak amiability, in season and out of season, and his habit of -taking everybody to be as goodnatured as himself, made him incapable of -perceiving that a gross outrage had been committed, for which formal -apologies were due. I argued the matter with him for hours at a time, -and had my labour for my pains; he would never positively admit that I -was right, simply because he could not understand the point of view. The -silence that gives consent was the most I got, and I was not satisfied -with that—from him. And so we fell out rather frequently—we, who had -never had a disagreement in our lives—and I was very unhappy.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, I was not going to set foot in Edmund Juke's house until -proper reparation had been made. It was not for a woman of my years and -standing to bow down to a boy and girl and an ignorant old person, who, -I believe, began life in a baker's shop, or some such place. An apology -I intended to have before I would receive them back to favour.</p> - -<p>And they did not apologise. It seems to me a petty sort of thing not to -frankly own it when one is in the wrong, but very few people are -large-minded enough to apprehend the difference between false pride and -true. As a rule, they think it derogatory to dignity—a "come-down" so -to speak—to confess to being human and therefore liable to error; -whereas you cannot have a better proof of moral superiority. Edmund and -Phyllis were no exceptions to this rule. They would do anything short of -the one thing they should have done. When the time came for the baby to -be baptized, they wrote a joint letter, couched in extravagantly -affectionate terms, asking me to be his godmother. It was the dearest -wish of their hearts, they would have me believe; and yet—not a word of -regret for what they had made me suffer!</p> - -<p>I saw through it at once. They were merely throwing a sop to Cerberus, -as it were, expecting that the little compliment would pacify -me—treating me as a cross child to be appeased with lollipops. Tom was -angry when I expressed my views; he said—what I am sure he was very -sorry for afterwards—that I was "the most perverse woman that ever -walked;" and it really seemed at one time as if this miserable affair -was destined to wreck the happiness of a marriage which for more than a -quarter of a century had been the most perfect in the world. I had never -imagined it possible that <i>my</i> husband could be morose and rude—and to -me, of all people!</p> - -<p>I answered the letter the same day. I said I was much obliged to Edmund -and Phyllis for their kind invitation, but I considered I was too old to -stand sponsor to the baby, who should have some one likely to be of use -to him through life. I did not suggest Mrs. Juke as a substitute; I did -not even mention her, nor refer to my grievances; I wrote temperately -and courteously, though not gushingly, and I fully expected that my note -would bring forth another, urging me to reconsider the matter, and -assuring me that I was not too old for anything—as of course I am not. -Instead of this, they affected to be huffy, made no rejoinder, and took -no further notice of me. So my feelings can be imagined when Lily calmly -informed me that <i>she</i> was to be the baby's godmother. I was keeping the -child closely at home, engaged with her studies; I had put a stop to the -Melbourne visits, because I do not believe in town life for a girl so -young, and it was just as easy and very little more expensive to have -her masters come out to give her lessons; therefore I could not imagine -how she had been, as Harry would have said, "got at."</p> - -<p>"Oh, are you?" I ejaculated, dissembling my surprise, "and, pray, who -says so?"</p> - -<p>"Father," she replied. "Ted spoke to father, and he said I might. And -they want father to be godfather—Mr. Stephen Juke and either father or -Harry—and Harry says his conscience is against something or other in -the baptismal service—and so is Emily's—and that's why they chose me. -And oh, mother, I must! I MUST!"</p> - -<p>She said it as if it were "I will," and with that mulish look which I -knew of old, and which meant that she would fight to the death to get -her own way, no matter whose feelings might be trampled on. I did not -stay to argue with her, but flew down the garden to find Tom. He was -pitchforking clean straw into the pigsties, and when he saw me, stood -and leaned on the fork handle with an exaggerated air of resignation. -"Well, and what's the matter now?" was expressed in his face and -attitude, though he did not speak.</p> - -<p>"Tom," I demanded, as I paused before him—I will not deny that I was -boiling over "Tom, are you going to be godfather to the Jukes' baby?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know, Polly," he said evasively. "Nothing is settled yet."</p> - -<p>"If you do," I declared with passion, "I will never speak to you again."</p> - -<p>Of <i>course</i> I did not mean that, but he took it as if I had said -something horrible. Never did I expect to see my husband look at me as -he looked then, or to hear him speak to me in a tone so cold and cruel, -or call me names as if he were a common costermonger instead of the -gentleman I had always found him.</p> - -<p>"Polly," he said, "because you are behaving like a maniac, am I to do so -too?—to turn against my daughter for nothing at all—my dear, good -child, who never grieved me in her life—and at this time of all times, -when her little heart is full——"</p> - -<p>I could bear no more. I burst into tears. I believe the boy was digging -potatoes not twenty yards away, but I did not care; in the middle of -Collins Street I must have done the same. To be misunderstood by the -whole world was a trifle indeed, but to be misunderstood by <i>him</i> an -insupportable calamity.</p> - -<p>It was but for a moment, after all. No sooner did he see my tears than -he flung away his fork, hurried me behind a shed, and took me into his -arms to comfort me, as he had always done. All piggy as he was, I threw -mine around his neck, forgiving him everything for the sake of his -constant love.</p> - -<p>"There, there," he crooned, "don't cry, pet. What a baby it is, after -all! You know as well as I do that you are just cutting off your nose to -spite your face—now don't you, sweetheart?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Tom," I wailed, "if you would <i>only</i> understand!"</p> - -<p>"Well, I do," he assured me, ruffling my hair with his grubby paw. "I -know all about it, little woman. And I'm ready to do anything in the -world to please you. I always am."</p> - -<p>"Then you won't stand godfather to that child—without me?"</p> - -<p>"Suppose we both stand together? We've done everything together so far."</p> - -<p>"I can't. I have refused."</p> - -<p>"Then write and say you have changed your mind."</p> - -<p>"It's too late. And they don't want me to change it, Tom—they don't -indeed; they only asked me out of politeness; they did not press me the -least little bit. I am sure they were delighted when I declined. They -had calculated upon it."</p> - -<p>"Pooh! That's your imagination."</p> - -<p>"It is <i>not</i>. What, are you going to accuse me of not speaking the -truth?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, my dear; but sometimes—well, never mind; we are all liable to -make mistakes. And when I think of the letter they wrote, asking -you—and I'm sure they meant it——"</p> - -<p>"They could not have meant it, because when I only half declined—I left -it open to them to ask again—they would not take the hint. Oh, they -don't want me for anything now, and I would die sooner than ever force -myself on them again!"</p> - -<p>Tom inquired, in a grave tone, what I had said in my letter—what reason -I had given for declining, or half-declining, in the first instance; and -I told him.</p> - -<p>"And, dear," I urged, "if I am too old—and they accepted that as a -valid excuse—what are you?"</p> - -<p>"Hm-m," he mused. "I never thought of that. Harry's the man—not me—if -there's anything in being godfather beyond the name. Only Harry jibs at -saying 'I will' and 'all this I steadfastly believe'—as if it were for -a young donkey like him to criticise the Prayer Book that's been good -enough for generations of us. That boy's head is full of maggots. So's -Emily's."</p> - -<p>"I beg," said I, "that you will not say a word against Emily, nor Harry -either. They are perfectly right. I think their loyalty beautiful."</p> - -<p>"To whom?" asked Tom.</p> - -<p>"To me," I said. "Was it likely they would stand sponsors to the baby -over my head? No, they love me too well to countenance anything that -would humiliate me. And Tom, my dear, I think it downright tyranny to -keep those two dear children hanging on as they are doing, wasting their -best years. You forget that I was barely twenty when you married me."</p> - -<p>"Barely twenty-two," he corrected.</p> - -<p>"And Emily is twenty-three. You might remember what it was to <i>us</i> to -get each other and our little home—how <i>we</i> should have felt if cruel -fathers had kept us out of it!"</p> - -<p>"Well, I never thought to hear myself called a cruel father," laughed -Tom, taking everything literally, as usual. "And as for Hal and -Emily—why, you yourself——"</p> - -<p>"I did nothing of the sort," I broke in—for I knew what he was going to -say—"and I have always advocated early marriages, because our own was -so successful. Now, Tom, when we have settled the affair of the -christening—but we must do that first——"</p> - -<p>"And how's it to be done?" he sighed, heavily. "Good God! I've been -true-blue Church and State all my life, but I'm hanged if I don't wish -there were no such things as christenings!"</p> - -<p>I am sure I heartily agreed with him.</p> - -<p>And after all he had his wish, as far as our baby was concerned. That -christening was postponed indefinitely. I heard that Edmund had said, -with a man's obtuseness to the logic of the case, that it was better the -child should remain a technical sinner than that all its relations -should become real ones. I was greatly surprised at the decision, but if -they chose to make the poor infant suffer for their faults, it was no -concern of mine. Mary Welshman and her husband wanted to make out that -it was—this, however, was merely a bit of revenge for some strictures I -had passed upon that disreputable brother of hers—and they took upon -themselves to such an extent that I resigned my sitting in the church -and stopped all my subscriptions. Welshman said that if baby died -unbaptized and unregenerate, his eternal damnation would lie at my -door—or something to that effect. I was not going to sit under a -clergyman who presumed to behave to me in that way.</p> - -<p>And so, thanks to all this meddling and muddling, the miserable affair -ended in a complete estrangement between my daughter and me. She never -came out to see us, as she had been used to do, and of course I did not -go to see her without being asked. I would not let Lily go either, to -have her taught to be disrespectful to her mother; and the child—too -young to know what was for her good—tried me sorely with her rebellious -spirit. She was worse than rebellious—she was disobedient and -deceitful; I found that she met her sister secretly when my back was -turned, and that she knew when little Eddie cut his first tooth, and -when he was short-coated, though I did not. Tom was mopey and grumpy, -almost sulky sometimes—so changed that I hardly knew him for my -sunny-tempered mate; he seemed all at once to be turning into an old -man. And I, though I tried to fight against it, had a perpetual ache in -my heart, and was tempted sometimes to wish that I was dead, so that I -might be loved once more.</p> - -<p>What I should have done without Emily I don't know. Tom gave me -permission to make certain arrangements which would enable her and Harry -to marry and settle, and the excitement and occupation which this -entailed just kept me, I think, from going out of my mind with -melancholy. As it was near the midwinter vacation, I insisted on the -dear girl giving up her school at the end of term; and we fixed a day in -August for the wedding, so as to have the cream of springtime for the -honeymoon. Emily's father—a perfect gentleman—-was a cripple, earning -but a small income by law-writing at home, and their house in Richmond -was cramped and close; for health's sake I made her spend part of the -holidays with me, and really it was like the happy old times over again -to see her sweet, bright face about the house. Her companionship was -most beneficial to Lily, too; the child recovered all her amiability, -and was as good as gold. Tom quite brightened up, laughing and joking, -like his old self; and we had Harry rushing out upon his bicycle -directly his office closed, and staying to sleep night after night, so -as to get long evenings with his betrothed. I never saw a pair of lovers -behave with better taste. Instead of hiding themselves in an empty room -for hours, they would play a rubber of whist with the old folks, and -Emily would sing our favourite songs to us, and duets with Lily; and -Harry was like a big boy again with his "Mummie" and his "Mater" and his -many pranks. It was delicious to wake in the night and think of him back -in the family nest—to picture him as he had looked when I went in to -tuck him up, turning his handsome head to kiss his mother. It was a good -time altogether—except for the one thing; <i>that</i> spoiled all—for me, -at any rate, if not for the others.</p> - -<p>Every day, and nearly all day long, Emily and I busied ourselves -preparing the new house. The dears had wished to live in our -neighbourhood, like the devoted children that they were, and had fallen -in love with a sweet little villa of half a dozen rooms, in a neat, -small garden, which was the ideal home for a bride and bridegroom of -large refinement and small means. It was a Boom property going cheap, -and Tom and I stretched a point to buy it outright and make them a -present of it; so that I could look forward to having my dear -daughter-in-law near me for many years to come. Such proximity might -have been inconvenient in the case of another person, but I had no fear -of the old prejudice against mothers-in-law operating here.</p> - -<p>The drawing-room, furnished entirely to my own design, was a picture. We -had the floor stained and rugs spread about; as Emily said, that was one -of the charms of living out of streets, which, however well-watered, -continually covered your things with dust, as if the house had pores to -take it in by. In town, if you want polished surfaces, you must simply -live with a duster in your hand. Then we papered the walls yellow and -painted the woodwork cream; and we made delightful chintz curtains and -covers for inexpensive furniture, and got a handy carpenter to carry out -our ideas for overmantel and bookcases, and used I don't know how many -tins of Aspinall. Without going into further particulars, I may say that -it was the prettiest little home that can be imagined when all was done. -Emily was only too pleased to leave everything to my taste and judgment, -and I cannot remember ever having a job that I enjoyed more thoroughly.</p> - -<p>Then she had to go back to her mother to get her clothes ready. And, -because I could not do without her altogether, I often joined her in -town and had an hour's shopping or sewing with her. I accompanied her, -of course, when she went to choose the wedding-gown—a walking costume -of cloth and silk that would be useful to her afterwards—and on the -following day I kept an appointment we had made to interview a -dressmaker.</p> - -<p>For the first time, she was not waiting for me. Her mother met me -instead—a nice, superior sort of woman, quite different from Mrs. -Juke—but a little inclined to be offhand, even with me. I also detected -in her manner a trace of that jealous spirit which above all things I -abhor, especially in mothers, whose natural instinct it is to sacrifice -and efface themselves for their children's good.</p> - -<p>"Emily is out," she said. "You can't have her. You'll have to do as I -mostly have to do—attend to your business alone."</p> - -<p>"But it is her business I am going to attend to—not my own," I said; -"and I cannot possibly do it without her. It is entirely for her -pleasure and convenience that I have come in to-day, Mrs. Blount, and -she faithfully promised to be ready for me at three."</p> - -<p>"Well, you see, sickness is not like anything else—it's got to come -first. It's not an hour since she was sent for, and there was no way of -getting a message to you. She told me to give you her love, and say how -sorry she was."</p> - -<p>"Will she be long, do you think?"</p> - -<p>"I couldn't say; but she took her nightgown with her."</p> - -<p>"Oh! Then I may as well go home at once. And when she wants me again, -she can send me word." I was inclined to be annoyed with Emily for -running me about for nothing, but—providentially—it occurred to me to -inquire what her errand was.</p> - -<p>"It's the child," said Mrs. Blount, "that's not very well."</p> - -<p>"What child?"</p> - -<p>"The little Juke baby. He has only a cold, his mother thinks, but, as -the doctor is away just now, she's nervous about him. So she sent for -Emily."</p> - -<p>"For <i>Emily!</i>" My heart swelled. I cannot describe the feeling that came -over me. Mrs. Blount stared at me in an odd way, and I have no doubt had -cause to do so; I must have stared at her like a daft creature. Neither -of us spoke another word. I just turned and ran out of the house, ran -all the way to the tram road, ran after a tram that had already passed -the end of the street, and in a quarter of an hour was jumping from the -dummy of another opposite my darling daughter's door. No doubt my fellow -travellers smiled to see a matron of my years conducting herself in that -manner, but I cast dignity to the winds. A new maid who did not know me -answered my sharp pull at the house bell, and told me Mrs. Juke was not -at home to visitors.</p> - -<p>"How is the baby?" I gasped out, trembling in every limb.</p> - -<p>"We have just sent for Dr. Errington," she replied. And then I rushed -past her and upstairs to Phyllis's room.</p> - -<p>As soon as I opened the door, and heard the sound in the air, I -recognised croup. It reminded me of times, in years gone by, when I had -wakened in the night and wondered for a moment what the extraordinary -noise was that pulsed through the house like the snoring of a wild -animal, and then leaped from my bed in agony as if a sword had gone -through me. I could see my own child's face, swollen and dark with -threatened suffocation, looking to her mother for help with those -beseeching eyes: just in the same way they looked at me now, only now -the mother-anguish was wringing <i>her</i> poor heart. She was walking up and -down the floor distractedly, with the baby in her arms—he had grown a -huge fellow, and weighed her down; and Emily was wildly turning the -leaves of a great medical book of Edmund's, blind with tears. Dear, -loving, futile creatures! It was more than I could bear to see them, and -to hear my Phyllis cry, "Mother! Mother! Oh, mother, tell us what to -do!"</p> - -<p>In one moment my cloak was on the floor and the babe was in my arms. He -struggled to cry, but could not get the sound out—only the brazen crow, -and harsh, strangled breath, which, I was informed, were symptoms of a -crisis which had only just appeared, attacking him in his sleep—and -Phyllis, when she had given him to me, clasped and unclasped her hands, -wrung them, and moaned as if some one were killing her.</p> - -<p>"Ipecacuanha wine!" I shouted. "Run Emily! Run over to the chemist's and -get it fresh—it must be fresh—and don't lose an instant! Hot water, -Phyllis, and a sponge! And tell them to get a bath ready!"</p> - -<p>They scurried away, and Emily, hatless and panting, was back from the -chemist's on the other side of the street before I had finished -loosening the infant's clothes; and he nearly choked himself with the -first spoonful of the stuff, which nevertheless I was obliged to make -him swallow.</p> - -<p>"He can't! He can't!" Phyllis moaned, tears that she forgot to wipe away -running down her poor face like rain down a window-pane. "Oh, he's -choking! He's going into convulsions! He's dying! Oh, Ted, Ted! Oh, my -precious angel! Oh, what shall I do!"</p> - -<p>I calmly gave him another spoonful of the ipecacuanha wine, for I knew -what I knew—that in ten minutes all this grief would subside with the -sufferings of the poor child—and almost immediately the expected -results occurred. It was an agitating moment for her, still imagining -convulsions and the throes of dissolution, and an anxious one for me, -because this was a much younger victim to croup than any I had had to -deal with; but when the paroxysm passed it was evident to everybody—and -the servants also were standing round—that his distress was already -soothed and the tension of the attack relieved. I put him gently into -the warm bath, heating it gradually till he might almost have been -scalded without knowing it, fomenting the little throat with a soft -sponge; and when I took him out and rolled him in a warm blanket, he -sank at once to sleep in my arms, and the crisis and the danger were -over.</p> - -<p>Then in dashed Dr. Errington, desperately alarmed because he was so -late, and full of suspicious questions. Phyllis took him aside and -explained everything, and, although it was hard to convince him that the -right thing had been done, eventually he was convinced, and owned it.</p> - -<p>"I congratulate you, Mrs. Braye, on your presence of mind," he said -handsomely. "It it not at all unlikely, from what Mrs. Juke tells me, -that the prompt measures you took averted a serious attack."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, doctor," I replied with a modest smile. "I am glad to prove -to you that I am of some use in a sick-room."</p> - -<p>He looked a little embarrassed—as well he might—and Emily flushed up. -It was her habit to blush at anything and nothing, like a half-grown -school girl. But Phyllis spoke out bravely.</p> - -<p>"Mother has just saved his life, Dr. Errington—that's all. If she had -not come at the moment she did, he must have choked to death. None of us -knew what to do to relieve him, but she knew at once." Then, as she -kneeled beside me where I sat on the nursing chair by the fire, she -dropped her poor, pretty, tired head upon my shoulder, and said, in the -most natural way in the world: "Father is right—there's no nurse in the -world like her."</p> - -<p>I have had many happy moments in my life, first and last, but I do think -that was one of the happiest.</p> - -<p>We sat by the fire until dusk—we three and the sleeping child. He had -gone off in my arms, and I would not permit him to be moved or touched. -As long as the light lasted I watched his sweet face, and the blessed -dew of perspiration on his still open lips and where the matted curls -stuck to his nobly-shaped brow; never had I seen such a splendid boy of -his age—except my own. I made Phyllis put up her feet on a lounge -opposite, and every now and then I met her wistful eyes looking at me -as if she were a child herself again. Yet I saw a great change in -her—the great change that motherhood makes in every woman—enhancing -her charm in every way. Emily sat on the stool between us. Once or twice -she attempted to go—and I wished she would—but Phyllis would not let -her. However, though not one of us yet, she would be soon, and in our -murmured talk together I instructed them both in some of the things of -which, in spite of a doctor being the husband of one of them, they were -alike ignorant.</p> - -<p>"Remember," I said, "never to be without a four-ounce bottle of -ipecacuanha wine, hermetically sealed when fresh, and kept where you can -readily lay your hand upon it. And when you find your child breathing in -that loud, hoarse way, or beginning that barking cough, give a -teaspoonful at once—at <i>once</i>—and another every five minutes until -relieved. Now don't forget that, either of you. You thought it only a -bad cold, Phyllis dear, but I could have told you differently if you -had sent for me. When he gets another attack——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, do you think he will have another?" she gasped, springing up on her -sofa with that unnecessary, uncontrollable agitation which I understood -so well.</p> - -<p>I told her I expected it, but that there was no need to be alarmed, -since she now knew how to recognise and deal with the complaint, which, -even if constitutional with him, he would grow out of in a few years. I -suggested causes to be guarded against—stomach troubles, the notorious -insalubrity of Melbourne streets, and so on—and reassured her as much -as I could.</p> - -<p>"Pray Heaven," she sighed, with tears in her eyes, "that I may never see -him like this again! Oh, I can't bear to think of it!" She shuddered -visibly. "He would have been dead now—now, at this very moment—and Ted -would have come home to find we were childless—if it had not been for -you, mother."</p> - -<p>"I think it very likely," I said, looking at the darling as I gently -swayed him to and fro on the low rocking-chair. "But he won't die now."</p> - -<p>"And he wasn't christened!" she ejaculated.</p> - -<p>"<i>That</i> didn't matter," Emily put in, with her inevitable blush. "You -don't believe in that old fetish of baptismal regeneration, surely, -Phyllis? You don't think the poor little soul would have been plunged -into fire and brimstone because a man did not make incantations over -it?"</p> - -<p>I rebuked Emily. As I had before remarked to Tom, she had all sorts of -maggots in her head. It was the B.A., the advanced woman, coming out in -her, and I did not like to see it, my own family having been brought up -so differently. I observed with relief, that Phyllis took no notice of -her flippant questions. She looked at me—knowing that I should -understand—and said she felt as if it would be a comfort to her somehow -to have him baptized. I suggested that it would be nice to have it done -in the cathedral as soon as he was well enough; and just after that he -awoke, we gave him his medicine, and Emily went home.</p> - -<p>When I had dressed the child for his cot and made him comfortable I took -up my own cloak and bonnet. But Phyllis looked so aghast at the -proceeding, and implored me with such evident sincerity not to leave -her, and particularly not to leave the baby, that I consented to stay at -any rate until Edmund returned—although, as I represented to her, her -father would be thinking I had been run over in the street.</p> - -<p>When she heard her husband's step in the hall she made an excuse to run -down to speak to him about the boy, and they came back together, and -straightway embraced me with all their four arms at once. Edmund, who -has always had the manners of a prince, spoke in the nicest way about my -goodness to them.</p> - -<p>"And now you won't leave us any more, Mater dear—now you see how badly -we manage things without you to help us? I have sent a message to the -captain—I've asked him to come by the next train—and your room is -getting ready. You <i>will</i> stay—for our sakes—won't you?"</p> - -<p>I wept on Edmund's shoulder, like a complete idiot. And of course I -stayed.</p> - -<hr style="width: 45%;" /> - -<p>Shall I ever forget that springtime! The garden was a garden of Eden -with flowers and birds—the bulbs in bloom, bushes of carmine japonica, -great clouds of white almond and pink peach blossom overhead, and the -scent of daphne and violets at every turn. As for the house, it was a -little paradise on earth, which a house can never be, to my thinking, -without a baby in it. To see that dear child crawling all over it, with -Phyllis flying after him—to hear him chirping to his grandfather, who -seemed to forget there were such things as pigs and fowls to see to—oh, -it was too blissful for words! I easily persuaded Edmund that Collins -Street was a place for women and children to live in when they must and -get out of when they could, and he knew when he confided his treasures -to me that they could not be in safer hands. He told me so, and I am -happy to say the event justified his faith. Every time that he came -over—which was almost daily, though often he had not half an hour to -stay—he found them rosier and plumper, turning the scale at a trifle -more.</p> - -<p>As I kept them for the summer—in the middle of which we all went to -Lorne for a month—they were with me at the time of Harry's marriage in -the spring. Edmund came down that morning to fetch his wife and Lily to -the wedding, bringing a carriage for them and Tom. Of course they wanted -me to go—everybody wanted it—Tom almost flatly declined to stir a step -without me; but I said, no, I would keep house and take care of the -precious grandson. After the way I had been deprived of him in the past, -it was beautiful to think of having him for a whole day to myself. And, -as I said to Tom, it was all an old woman was fit for.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I like that!" he laughed, throwing an arm round my waist. "You know -very well you've only got to put your smart gown on and walk away from -the lot of 'em—bride and bridesmaids and all."</p> - -<p>Old goose! But I am sure when he was dressed, and the lilies of the -valley stuck in his buttonhole, he could walk away from any young -bridegroom in the matter of looks—aye, even his own handsome son. They -all kissed me fondly before leaving the house—my pretty girls, and -Edmund, who was as dear as they—and I stood at the gate to see them go -with the pleasant knowledge that I should be more conspicuous by my -absence than any one by their presence at the wedding party, except the -bride herself.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon, when Eddie was asleep and I was beginning to feel -rather tired of my own company, I had a visit from kind old Mrs. Juke. -She too had married her sons and daughters, so she could sympathise with -me. We had a comfortable tea together, and lots of talk, comparing -notes, as mothers love to do; and then we amused ourselves with our -grandchild, like two infants with a doll. She was of Tom's opinion that -he was the image of me, and she was in raptures at the improvement in -him since I had "saved his life"—as she persisted in calling the mere -giving of a simple emetic. Strange to say, with all the children she had -had, she could not remember a case of croup amongst them, and she did -not know the sovereign virtue of fresh ipecacuanha wine. Later in the -afternoon we walked to the new house, wheeling the perambulator in turn; -and I showed her everything, and she thought all perfect—as it was. She -was wonderfully agile for a rather stout woman, making nothing of the -long tramp; and her intelligent appreciation of artistic things -surprised me. I had long discovered the fact that she was excellently -educated. Her father had had large flour mills and been wealthy in his -day, and his daughters had all had advantages—far more than I had had -myself, in fact. Poor Mrs. Blount, on the contrary, had never mixed with -cultured people, as her accent indicated.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Ted's mother, in Ted's own nice way, when our inspection of -the little house was ended, "Emily Blount ought to be a happy girl."</p> - -<p>"And she is," I replied. "About as happy as a young bride ever was in -this world—except myself."</p> - -<p>"And me," said Mrs. Juke.</p> - -<p>"And you."</p> - -<p>I was glad and proud to believe that it was so.</p> - -<p>But since then I have wondered sometimes whether Emily appreciates her -extraordinary luck as she ought to do. Now and then it comes across me -that she takes it a little too much as a matter of course.</p> - -<p>It is very nice—very nice indeed—to have her living so near me, but I -must say she is not quite so docile as she was before her marriage. -Being a University woman, she naturally knows nothing in the world about -housekeeping, and it was only in kindness to her and out of -consideration for Harry's purse that I advised her now and then on -domestic matters. I thought to be sure she would be grateful for hints -from one of such large experience, but it was evidently otherwise, -since as a rule she did not take them. I told her that three pounds of -butter a week for three people was preposterous, and that light crust -made of clarified beef dripping was infinitely nicer as well as more -wholesome than the rich puff paste they put to everything; but she went -on taking the three pounds just the same. Though I gave her a sausage -machine and endless recipes for doing up cold scraps, I used to see good -pieces of meat thrown away continually; and a girl they had, who lit the -morning fire with kerosene, and who told my Jane that she "couldn't -stand the old lady at no price," broke crockery every time she touched -it, and yet they persisted in keeping her. As I said to Harry, if they -got into these extravagant ways when there were but two of them, how -would it be presently when there was a family to support? But your son -is never the same son after he has taken a wife, and Harry did not like -to be appealed to. The other day he said, "Please don't interfere with -her"—quite as if he were speaking to some meddlesome outsider. <i>I</i> -interfere! The notion was too absurd. I reminded him how I had held -aloof from the Jukes when they were young beginners, as proving as I was -not the sort of person to force myself where I was not wanted, even upon -my own children. But he and Emily are not like my beloved Edmund and -Phyllis, who think there is no one in the world like "Mater dear."</p> - - -<h4>THE END.</h4> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Materfamilias, by Ada Cambridge - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATERFAMILIAS *** - -***** This file should be named 40659-h.htm or 40659-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/6/5/40659/ - -Produced by Clare Graham, Laura McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images graciously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Materfamilias - -Author: Ada Cambridge - -Release Date: September 4, 2012 [EBook #40659] - -Language: NU - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATERFAMILIAS *** - - - - -Produced by Clare Graham, Laura McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images graciously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - -MATERFAMILIAS - -BY - -ADA CAMBRIDGE - -AUTHOR OF - -THE THREE MISS KINGS, A MARRIAGE CEREMONY, - -MY GUARDIAN, NOT ALL IN VAIN, FIDELIS, - -A LITTLE MINX, ETC. - - -NEW YORK - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - -1898 - - - - -CONTENTS. - - I.--THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL - II.--IN THE EARLY DAYS - III.--A PAGE OF LIFE - IV.--THE BROKEN CIRCLE - V.--A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING - VI.--DEPOSED - VII.--A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT - VIII.--THE SILVER WEDDING - IX.--GRANDMAMMA - X.--VINDICATED - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE BEGINNING OF IT ALL. - - -My father in England married a second time when I was about eighteen. -She was my governess. - -Mother herself had engaged her, and I believe had asked, when dying, -that she would remain to take care of us; and I don't say that she was -not a good woman. She had been nearly five years in the house, and we -had the habit of looking to her for advice in all family concerns; and -certainly she took great pains with my education. But of course I was -not going to stand seeing her put in mother's place. I told father so. -I said to him, kindly, but firmly: "Father, you will have to choose -between us. There will not be room under this roof for both." - -He chose her. Consequently I left my home, though they both tried hard -to prevent it, and to reconcile me to their new arrangements. I will say -that for them. In fact, my father, pleading legal rights, forbade me to -go, except for some temporary visiting. I went on the understanding that -I was to return in a couple of months or so. But I was resolved not to -return, and I never did. While staying with my uncle, a medical man, I -privately married his assistant--one (if I may say so) of a -miscellaneous assortment of admirers. I am afraid I encouraged him to -propose an elopement; I certainly hastened its accomplishment. Then -after all our plottings and stratagems, when at last I had the ring on -my finger, I wrote to inform father of what he and Miss Coleman had -driven me to. Poor old father! It was a tremendous blow to him. But I -don't know why he should have made such a fuss about it, seeing that he -had done the same--practically the same--himself. - -It was a greater disaster to me than to him, or to anybody--even to my -husband, who almost from the first regarded me as a millstone about his -neck; for _he_ could go away and enjoy himself when he liked, forgetting -that I existed. Indeed, it was a horrible catastrophe. When my own -children are so anxious to get married while they are still but -children, and think it so cruel of me to thwart them, I wish I could -tell them what I went through at their age! But I don't mention it. I -promised Tom I never would. - -At twenty I was teaching for a living--I, who had been so petted and -coddled, hardly allowed to do a hand's turn for myself! My husband was -travelling about the world as a ship's doctor. Father wanted me to come -home, but I was too proud for that. Besides, I would not go where I had -to hear Edward insulted. After all, he was my husband, and our -matrimonial troubles were entirely our own concern. Not from him, -either, would I accept anything after I was able to earn for myself. I -taught at a school for thirty pounds a year, and managed to make that -do. It was a wretched life. - -I was barely of age when the news came that Edward had caught fever -somewhere and been left in a Melbourne hospital by his ship, which was -returning without him. At once I made up my mind that it was my duty as -a wife to go to him. He had no friends in Australia, and not much money; -it was pathetic to think of him alone and helpless amongst utter -strangers; and I thought that if I did this for him he would remember it -afterwards, and be kind to me, and help me to make our married life a -little more like other people's. In those days there was no cable across -the world, and mails but once a month; so that when I started I was -altogether in the dark as to what I was going to. The first news of his -illness--with no particulars, except that it was fever--was all I ever -had. - -I would not ask my father for money. Indeed, he would have frustrated -my purpose altogether had he known of it in time. I went to my old -godmother, Aunt Kate, who was very rich and fond of me, and begged the -loan of fifty pounds, not telling her what I wanted it for. She gave the -money outright, with another fifty added to it; so that I had plenty to -cover the cost of a comfortable voyage. I determined, however, to save -on the voyage all I could, that I might have something in my pocket on -landing, when funds would be sorely needed. To which end I engaged my -berth in the humblest passenger-boat available--Tom's little Racer, of -ever-beloved memory. They told me at the office that she was better than -her name--faster than many that were twice her size. I was young and -silly enough to believe them, and also to forget that by the time I -reached Australia Edward's illness would have long been a thing of the -past, and he perhaps back in England or well on his way thither. - -If the Racer was one of the smallest ships in the Australian trade, her -master, Thomas Braye, must have been one of the youngest captains. At -that time he was under thirty, though he did not look it, being a big -man, quiet and grave in manner, deeply sensible of his professional -responsibilities. I remember thinking him rather rough and decidedly -plain when I saw him first; but he was gentleness and gentlemanliness -incarnate, and I never afterwards thought of his appearance except to -note the physical inadequacy of other men beside him. - -He has told me since that _his_ first feeling on seeing _me_ was one of -strong annoyance. Though a married woman and going out to my husband, I -was but a young girl in fact--far too young and far too pretty (though I -say it) to be travelling as I was, without an escort. It unfortunately -happened that I was the only lady in the saloon, and that the ship was -too small to have a stewardess. Three wives of artisans herded with -their husbands and children in the black hole they called the steerage, -and one of them was summoned aft as soon as we were in the river to keep -me company. But as the others were disagreeable about it, and she was a -coarse and dirty creature, I myself begged Captain Braye to send her -back again. Poor Tom! By the way, I did not call him Tom then, of -course; I did not even know his Christian name. He says he never -undertook a job so unwillingly as he did that job of taking care of me. -How absurd it seems--now! - -We sailed in late autumn, in the twilight of the afternoon. I remember -the look of the Thames as we were towed down--the low, cold sky, the -slate-coloured mist, with mere shadows of shores and ships just looming -through it. Nothing could have been more dreary. And yet I enjoyed it. -The feeling that I was free of that horrible schoolroom, and that still -more horrible lodging-house, where I cooked meals over an etna on a -painted washstand, and ate them as I sat on a straw-stuffed bed--the -prospect of long rest from the squalid scramble that life had become, -from all-day work that had tired me to death--oh, no one can understand -what luxury that was! Besides, I had hopes of the future, based on -Edward's convalescence and reform, to buoy me up. And then I loved the -sea. People are born to love it, or not to love it; it is a thing -innate, like genius, never to be acquired, and never to be lost, under -any circumstances. When the Channel opened out, and the long swell began -to lift and roll, I knew that I was in my native element, though a -dweller inland from birth up to this moment. The feel of the buoyant -deck and of the pure salt wind was like wings to soul and body. - -But I had to pay my footing first. It came upon me suddenly, in the -midst of my raptures, and I staggered below, and cast myself, dressed as -I was, upon my bunk. Never, never had I felt so utterly forsaken! When -ill before, with my little, trivial complaints, Miss Coleman had waited -on me hand and foot--everybody had coddled me; now I was overwhelmed in -unspeakable agonies, and nobody cared. It is true that--though I would -not have her--the steerage woman came in the middle of the night; and -once I roused from a merciful snatch of sleep to find my bracket lamp -alight where all had been darkness. These things indicated that some one -was concerned about me--Tom, of course--but I did not realize it then. I -was alone in my misery, alone in the wide world, of no consequence even -to my own husband; and I wished I was dead. - -Early in the morning--it was a rough morning, and we were in a heavy, -wintry sea--the captain tapped at my door. I was too deadly ill even to -answer him; so he turned the handle and looked in. Seeing that I was -dressed, he advanced with a firm step, and, standing over me, said, in -the same voice with which he ordered the sailors to do things-- - -"Mrs. Filmer, you must come up on deck." - -I merely shook my head. I was powerless to lift a finger. - -"Oh, yes, you must. You will feel ever so much better in the air." - -"I can't," I wailed, and closed my eyes. I believe the tears were -running down my face. - -He stood for a minute in silence. I felt him looking at me. Then he -said, with a kindness in his voice that made me shake with sobs-- - -"I'll go and rig up a chair or something for you. Be ready for me when I -come back in ten minutes. If you can't walk, we will carry you." - -He departed, and the steerage woman arrived, very sulky. I was obliged -to accept her help this time. Captain Braye, I felt, did not mean to be -defied, and it was a physical impossibility for me to make a toilet for -myself. When he returned he brought the steward with him, and, before I -knew it, he had whisked a big rug round and round me, and taken me up in -his arms. I weighed about seven stone, and he is the strongest man I -know. The steward carried my feet, but it was a mere pretense of -carrying; he was only there as a sort of chaperon, because Tom was so -absurdly particular. Up on the poop, with the ship violently rolling -and pitching, the man could not keep his own feet, and let mine go, and -we did not miss him. Tom bore me safely and easily, like a Blondin with -his pole, to where he had fixed a folding-chair for me--it was his own -chair, for I had not been able to afford one--and there he set me down, -in the midst of pillows and an opossum rug, with that sort of powerful -gentleness which is the manliest thing I know. All at once he made me -feel that I was in shelter and at rest. As long as I remained on that -ship I could cease fighting with the difficulties of my lot. He would -take care of me. There are women who don't want men to take care of -them--I am not one of those; I have no vocation for independence. - -I found I could not sit in that chair, luxurious as it was. I think all -my worries and hard work and bad meals must have undermined me. Even -though Tom made me drink brandy and water, I could not hold myself up. - -"Oh," I sighed wretchedly, "I feel so faint and swimmy, I _must_ lie -down!" - -"So you shall," he answered, like a kind father, and he shouted to the -steward to bring up a mattress and pillows. In five minutes there was a -bed on the deck floor, and I was in it, swathed in fur and blankets, -like a chrysalis in its cocoon, more absolutely comfortable than I had -ever been in my life. I still felt ill and exhausted, and could not bear -the thought of food; but I breathed the sweet, cold, reviving air, and -yet was as warm as a toast, and no spray or rain could touch me. When he -had tucked me up to his satisfaction, placing his oilskins over all, he -took some rope and lashed me to the bars of the hen-coops behind me. And -there I lay all day, resting and dozing. No matter how the ship rolled, -it could not roll me out of my nest; being so secure, I felt the motion -to be soothing rather than the reverse. When not asleep, I gazed at the -pure sky and the gleaming tiers of sails, listened to the voices of the -wind and of the sea, and watched the stalwart figure of my dear -commander. At short intervals he would come over to ask if I was all -right; and at least once an hour he brought something with him--brandy -and water or strong broth--and fed me with it out of a spoon. Oh, Tom! -Tom! And I had almost forgotten what it was like to be tended and cared -for in that way. - -In a day or two I was well enough to walk about the ship and occupy -myself, and he was more reserved with me again. But still I always knew -that he was keeping guard over my comings and goings, and I felt as safe -as possible. His officers and my fellow saloon-passengers--none of them -gentlemen like him--were too much interested in my movements after I -began to move, and his eye seemed always upon them. Now and then I was -embarrassed and annoyed, and at such moments he quietly stepped in to -relieve me, never making a fuss, but promptly putting people back into -their proper places. At the first hint of trouble of this sort he had a -spare cabin turned into a little sitting-room for me--my boudoir, he -called it--where I might always retire when I wanted privacy. I found it -a comfort at times, but still my sleeping-berth would have done almost -as well; for I never wanted any visitor but him, and he never asked to -come. When it was weather for it, I lived on the poop in his -folding-chair--always lashed ready for me--and that's where I preferred -to be. Even when not weather for it, I often begged to stay, for the -support of his company; and sometimes, but not always, he would allow me -to do so, making me fast with ropes, and surrounding me with a screen of -tarpaulin. For hours I would lie, like a cradled baby, and watch his -gallant figure and his alert eyes, and listen to his steady tramp, as he -went up and down. I had no fear of anything while he was there, and he -seemed always there. I learned afterwards how terribly he deprived -himself of rest and sleep because of his responsibility for the safety -of us all. - -For the Racer was an ancient vessel of the tramp description, little -fitted to do battle with such storms as we encountered. Her old timbers -creaked and groaned, as if in their last agony, when buffeted by the -heavy seas; and the way she took in water at the pores, without actually -springing leaks, was dreadful. The clacking of the pumps and the gushing -of the inexhaustible stream seemed always in one's ears, and when waves -broke over her and drained down through a stove-in skylight, of course -it was far worse--even dangerous. She simply wallowed about like a log, -too heavy and lumbering to get out of the way of anything. I could not -bear to see Tom's stern and haggard face, to know the strain he was -enduring, and that I could do nothing to lighten it; but as for -_danger_--I never thought of such a thing! Not that I am at all a -courageous person, as a rule. - -I believe we were somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Cape when the -most noteworthy of our experiences befell us. We were struggling with -the chronic "dirty" weather--absurd adjective for a thing so majestic -and inspiring!--and I was on deck, firmly tied to my chair, and my -chair to the mast, dry under oilskins, and only my face exposed to wind -and spray, which threatened to take the skin off. I could hardly see the -length of the ship through the spindrift of the gale, and the way it -shrieked in the rigging was like fiends let loose. Bee--a--utiful! - -And Tom wanted to spoil all my pleasure by shutting me down in a nasty, -stuffy, smelly, pitch-dark cabin, where I couldn't breathe and shouldn't -know anything that went on, nor have a soul to speak to. However, I was -getting used to him by this time, and so, when he staggered up and -announced that he had come to take me below, because it was no longer -fit for me to be on deck, I told him flatly that I would not go. - -"You must go," said he. - -"I won't go," said I. - -"The captain's commands must be obeyed, Mrs. Filmer." - -"Not in this case, Captain." - -"In every case, Madam." - -"Not a bit of it," I persisted, laughing in his face, which was rather -grim, but yet not quite inflexible. "I am not one of your sailors, to be -ordered about. I shall do what I like. And this is exactly what I like." - -He condescended to argue, and then of course I would not give in. He -said he must use force and carry me, but that was an obviously -impossible thing to do without my assistance, considering the angle of -the decks. When I saw him looking really worried, I condescended to -plead myself, and I suppose he could not resist that. He has told me -since that he never felt the same man after this act of weakness, but -I'm sure I cannot see where the weakness came in. With great difficulty, -and meanwhile flashing anxious glances hither and thither, he got more -rope and made fresh windings and tyings about me. - -"You are a spoilt child," was all he said. He did not look happy, but I -was very pleased with the issue of our encounter. I felt that it had -strengthened my position somehow--taken away all my awe and fear of -him--and I would not have missed my subsequent experiences on deck that -day for anything. - -They were really tremendous. No sooner had I been trussed up like an -Indian baby in preparation for contingencies--no sooner had Tom left me -to give his undivided attention to the ship--than the chronic gale -produced a spasmodic and special one which I am sure was a cyclone of -the first magnitude, though he would not give it that name in the book. -What he called nor'-nor'-east had been the direction of the storm we had -grown used to, but just before he asked me to go below it had shifted to -"nor'," and now it jumped all at once to "sou'-west," with effects upon -the sea and the poor ship that were truly startling. Those wall-sided -mountains of water, that were bad enough to get over when we knew which -way they were going, began a furious dance together, all jumbled up -anyhow; and the first treacherous monster created by the change of wind -crashed bodily inboard quite close to where I sat--"pooped" us, as Tom -expressed it--and, washing over me, simply swept all before it, -including the wheel and the two poor men steering, who were driven upon -rail and rigging with such force as to injure both of them. How my -lashings held as they did I cannot understand--or, rather, I can, of -course--when strong wood was being torn from iron fastenings; and how I -issued alive from that tremendous shower-bath is much more wonderful. It -must have been the packing round me that saved my bones from being -smashed like the boats and hen-coops. I heard Tom's shout of warning -just before I was overwhelmed, and when I emerged, and could expand my -breathless lungs, I answered him, with a strange and joyful lifting of -the heart, "All right! I'm safe! Don't mind me, Captain!" - -If he had minded me at that moment we should have been lost together, -ship and all. She began to broach to, as they call it, and the -supplementary wheel had to be used at once to stop it, and just then our -lives hung upon a hair. The decks were filled to the brim, and I could -hear the deluge thudding down through the shattered skylight upon the -table set for dinner. And she rolled all but bottom upwards, the broken -rail going under and I dangling in air above it, and--and, in short, if -any one but Tom had been her captain she would never have been heard of -from that day. I am quite convinced of that. No man born could have -accomplished what he did--he says, "Nonsense," but I know what I am -talking about--although I was just as sure that _he_ would accomplish it -as I was that the sun would rise next morning. I calmly held on to my -supports, and waited and watched. Sometimes I clenched my teeth and shut -my eyes, while I prayed for his preservation in the perils he did not -seem to see. He called to me at short intervals, "Are you all right?" -and I called back, "All right!" And when the worst was over for the -moment, he scrambled to where I was, and fixed me up afresh. Never shall -I forget the look on his face and the ring in his voice when he spoke to -me. "Brave girl! Brave girl!" I think it was the happiest moment of my -life. - -"But I don't understand it," he said to me, later, when there was time -to breathe and talk. "Why are you not frightened? When you were first on -board, crying because you were seasick----" - -"I did _not_ cry because I was seasick," I indignantly interposed, "but -because I was lonely and miserable. You would have cried if you had been -in my place." - -"I thought," he continued, heedless of the interruption, "that you were -a poor little baby creature, without an ounce of pluck in you. But -you've got the courage of a grenadier. How is it?" - -"It is because I am with you," I answered promptly. - -I don't know what feeling I allowed to get into my voice, but something -struck him. Motionless where he stood, he stared at the great waves -silently, for what seemed a long time; then abruptly walked forward to -give an order, and did not come back. - -We were mostly silent when we were together after that. How hard I tried -to think of a common topic to discuss, and could not! So did he. But -while I had nothing to do but to think, he was terribly preoccupied with -the condition of the ship. She had recovered to a certain extent, and -was able to stagger on again, but she was a living wreck, all splintered -and patched, and the difficulty of keeping the water down was greater -than before. The pumps were always clanking, and the carpenter -hammering, and the sailmaker putting canvas plasters over weak places. -The whole ship's company were glum and weary, and the passengers--wet, -ill-fed, and wretched--complained loudly all the time, indifferent as to -how much they added to the poor captain's cares. He, though firm with -everybody, never lost his temper, or seemed to give way to the -depression that must at times have weighed him down. He was worthy to -command who could so command himself--worthy to be a sailor, which is -the noblest calling in the world. As for me--well, it was no credit to -me that I, of all on board, was satisfied to be there, and consequently -happy. I kept a serene and smiling face to cheer him. It was the least -that I could do. - -And it did cheer him. To my unspeakable comfort I was assured of that, -though he did not say so. I could see it in his face, and hear it in his -voice, when now and then he came to sit beside me, evidently for rest -and peace. - -"And so," he said, on one of these occasions, speaking in an -absent-minded way--"and so you are not nervous with me? Well, I hope I -shall be able to justify your trust." - -"You will," I said calmly. "You could not help it." - -"Heaven knows!" he ejaculated. "The glass is falling again, fast." - -"Never mind the glass. It is always falling." - -"I wouldn't, if I had any sort of proper ship under me. But this----she -isn't fit for women to sail in." - -"If she is good enough for you," I remarked cheerfully, "she is good -enough for me." - -"But she isn't. I don't ask for much--at my age--but I do want a ship of -some sort, not a sieve. Oh, dear! oh, dear!"--looking round him with a -restless sigh--"we shall be months getting to Melbourne at this rate." - -"I don't care," I said, "if we are years." - -He made no comment on this statement, which I blushed to perceive was a -mistake; and I hastened to remind him that Edward's illness must have -been over long ago. Then he began, in an abrupt manner, to ask me how I -thought the passengers were bearing the trial of short rations which he -had been compelled to lay upon them. - -One day we were at great peace, because the weather was beautiful and -the water in the well diminished. A hammock of sailcloth had been made -for me, and slung in a nice place, and I lay there almost the whole day -through, swinging softly with the ship as she soared and dived over -mile-long billows or swayed in the deep beam swells with the airy -motion of a bird upon the wing. The Racer could feel like that at times, -even yet; and I was too happy for speech or thought--that is, in a sad -and pensive fashion. So, I know, was Tom, although he too had no words -and hardly a look for me as he paced to and fro. It was just the -consciousness that I was there--that he was there--permitted to rest -together for an interval from our battle with fate. Even the sight of -his substantial figure, never out of my mind's eye, while my other eyes -saw only the lifting and sinking of the gunwale against the gleaming, -silky sea--even the roar of his strong voice, occasionally using -"language" in a professional way--could not take away the sense as of an -enchanted world enveloping us, as if we were disembodied spirits in some -heavenly sphere. But I can't describe it. Perhaps the reader -understands. - -The night was lovelier than the day--there was a moon shining--and one -literally _ached_ with the sweetness of it. Each of us was on the way -to bed, and somehow we could not resist the temptation to linger by the -rail a little. The ship was under command of the chief officer, and all -was well for the time. We were alone where we stood. - -Speaking of the change of weather and his late responsibilities, he -said: "If I am ever so unfortunate as to lose the lives committed to me, -I shall just stand still and go down with the ship--when I have done -what I can do." - -"If that should come," I returned, "please don't put me into a boat and -send me off without you. Let me stand still and go down too." - -"Not if there's a chance for the boat," he said. - -We had spoken in a light way, but deep thoughts welled up in us. "Oh," I -broke out--for I had not his self-control--"oh, it would be better than -anything that could happen to me now!" - -All he said to that was "Hush--sh--sh!" but I could not check myself -immediately. - -"I would rather die that way than live--as I must live when I no longer -have you to take care of me!" I wailed, reckless. "Oh, I wish I could! I -wish I could!" - -And indeed I meant it. Even as we went down, I thought, he would keep -the sea monsters from terrifying and devouring me; he would take care of -me, regardless of himself--that was inevitable--until we were both dead. -The fear of death was nothing to the fear of life as it would present -itself at my journey's end. I had _no_ fear of death--with him. - -He laid his broad, brown hand on mine that clutched the rail--a solemn -gesture--and he said, in a shaking voice, "My dear, it's well you remind -me that it's my business to take care of you. We have got our duty to -do, both of us. Come, it's getting late; it's bed time. We mustn't stay -here in the moonlight and let ourselves get foolish." - -Still holding my hand, he led me downstairs. At the door of my cabin he -gave it a great strong squeeze, and then let it go without another -word. He did not kiss me. Oh, true heart! Death to him would have been -infinitely easier than the ordeal I made him suffer through those long -weeks. But he never allowed himself to be overcome. - -It was not long after this that the dreaded moment came when land was -reported. Words cannot describe my terror of the impending change. It -was my only safe haven--my home--from which I was, as I thought, to be -cast out, and I simply dared not imagine what sort of life awaited me. - -The crippled Racer anchored in Hobson's Bay at nightfall. Most of the -passengers went off in boats, and those who rowed to the ship returned -with them. Dressed in walking clothes, I sat in the little cabin that -had been my sitting-room, listening and shivering, trying (with the -example I had before me) to brace myself to meet things as a brave woman -should; but no one came for me. Only Tom. Rather late in the evening, -when all had gone except the steerage woman and her children, with whose -husband and father he had made some business arrangement, the captain -entered my private apartment alone for the first time. There was an -indescribable expression on his face, which had looked so fagged of -late. His eyes did not meet mine. His whole frame trembled like a -girl's. - -"Oh, has he come?" I cried--I believe I almost shrieked. - -"No," said he; "he hasn't come. You'd better go to bed now--go and sleep -if you can--and I'll tell you about it to-morrow." - -"What is it?" I implored. "What has happened? What have you heard? Oh, -tell me now, for pity's sake!" - -He sat down on the little bunk beside me, and took my hand between his -two hands; he did it as a father might do it, to support my weakness -under the shock coming. - -"The fact is, Mrs. Filmer--the fact is, dear--I sent ashore for news. I -thought I'd better make some inquiries first. And--and--and----" - -"I know--I know! He has left the country, and abandoned me again!" - -"No, poor fellow! He died of that illness--six months ago." - -At first I did not understand the meaning of the words. It was an event -that had never entered into my calculations, strange to say. But the -moment I realised the position--it is a dreadful, dreadful thing to -confess, but God knows I never meant any harm--my arms instinctively -went up to Tom's stooping shoulders and, hiding my face in his breast, I -nearly swooned with joy. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -IN THE EARLY DAYS. - - -I was not a girl, but a woman, when I married Tom. He, a man incapable -of grossness in any shape or form, was still a man, healthily natural, -of ripe experience in the ways of men. Whatever our faults in the -past--if they were faults--the result was to teach us what we could -never otherwise have learned, the meaning of wedlock in its last -perfection. Don't let any one run down second marriages to me! The way -to them must necessarily be painful and troubled, and one always desires -passionately to keep one's children out of it; but the end of the -journey, bringing together, open-eyed to all the conditions, educated to -discriminate and understand, two born mates like Tom and me--ah, well! -One mustn't say all one thinks about these matters--except, of course, -to him. - -Talking of being open-eyed, I was so blind at one time as actually to -fancy that he was in no hurry to have me. When I gave him to -understand--hardly knowing what I did--that I should die or something -without him to take care of me, he said he asked nothing better than to -take care of me, God knew, but that how to do it for the best was what -bothered him. It did not bother me in the slightest degree. I depended -on him--only on him of all the world--and I told him so; and yet he -wanted, after _that_, to send me back to my father with some old woman -whom I had never seen, in another ship, while he took the Racer -home--which never would have got home, nor he either. And I a married -woman, independent in my own right, and over twenty-one! However, I -flatly refused to go, except with him, as I had come. He said he would -not trust my life to that rotten tub again, and I said--I forget what I -said; but I hurt his feelings by it; and then I cried bitterly, and -said I would go out and be a housemaid. - -The deadlock was suddenly ended by the Racer being condemned by the -authorities of the port as unfit for sea again. When that happened we -both decided to stay in the new country, and, having him near me, I was -quite content to postpone matrimony until things became a little -settled. It was soon plain enough that he was not anxious to postpone -for the mere sake of doing so; he only wanted a clear understanding with -father first, as well as with his owners, and to give me time for second -thoughts, and for considering the advice of my family. - -It took long for letters to come and go, and I began to be haunted in my -walks by a strange man, who--I suppose--admired me. Tom found this out -on the same day that he accepted an appointment as chief officer with a -Melbourne shipping company. I could not imagine what had happened when -he came to see me at my poor lodging with such a resolute face. - -"Mary," he said, "who's that fellow hanging round outside? I've seen him -several times." - -"Tom," I protested sincerely, "I don't know any more than you do. But he -is a rude man; he stares at me and follows me, and I can't get rid of -him. Of course, he sees that I am----" I was going to say "unprotected," -and hastily substituted "alone," which was not much better. - -"Well, now, look here--I've got a ship, Mary"--he did not pain me with -further explanations on that head; later I wept to think of his -subservient position in that ship--"and this means an income, dear. Not -much, but perhaps enough----" - -"Does it mean that you are going away?" I cried, terrified. - -"Not far. Only for a few days at a time. I start on Friday. This is -Monday." - -He took my hands; he looked into my eyes; I knew him so well that I knew -just what he was going to say. The colour poured into my face, but I -made no mock-modest pretence of being shy or shocked. - -As a preliminary, he questioned me as if I were on trial for my life. -"Answer me _quite_ truthfully, Mary"--he called me Mary before we were -married, but always Polly afterwards--"tell me, on your solemn word of -honour, do you love me--beyond all possible doubt--beyond all chance of -changing or tiring, after it's too late?" - -I told him that I loved him beyond doubt, beyond words, beyond -everything, and should do so, I was absolutely convinced, to my life's -end. I further declared that he knew it as well as I did, and was simply -wasting breath. - -"And you really and truly do wish to marry me, Mary?" - -I attempted to laugh at his tragic gravity and his awkward choice of -words. I said I didn't unless he did, that I wouldn't inconvenience him -or force his inclination for the world. I asked him, plainly, whether he -thought that quite the way to put it. - -"Yes," he said. "For I want to make sure that I--that -circumstances--are not taking advantage of you while you are young and -helpless. And yet how can I be sure?" - -He took my face between his hands and gazed at it, as if he would look -down through my eyes to the bottom of my soul. I shut them after a -moment, and tears began to ooze between the lids at the thought that he -could doubt me. One trickled out and splashed upon his knee, and my -heart began to heave with the impulse to cry in earnest. Then he drew my -face--drew me into his arms, and we sat a little without speaking, -hearing our hearts thump. - -"We'll chance it, shall we?" he whispered between short breaths. "Sooner -or later it must come to that, and better as soon as possible if I have -to leave you in Melbourne alone. You won't be so much alone if you -belong to me, even when I am away--will you, sweetheart?" - -I merely sighed--that kind of long, full, vibrating sigh which means -that your feelings are too deep for words. - -"I think I shall be able to answer to your father--I hope so," he -continued, rallying his constant self-control. "I think I am justified, -Mary. If not----" - -But I would not let him go upon that tack. Justification was absolute, -in my view of the case. I know what the ill-natured reader will say--she -will say that I threw myself at his head, that I forced myself upon him, -that I did not give him a chance to get out of marrying me if he had -wanted to; but that is only because she knows nothing whatever about it. -I cannot explain. I simply state the fact that we had one mind between -us on the matter, and if she doesn't believe me I can't help it. - -"This is Monday," Tom repeated, "and I sail on Friday. If we are going -to do it, Mary, I'd like it done before I leave. There's nothing to wait -for, if we don't wait for the letters, is there?" - -I told him nothing--that I was in his hands; and he proposed that we -should walk out then and there to find some one to "splice" us, as he -appropriately termed it, because it would be so much easier to attend to -all the other business after we were man and wife than before. - -Sailors have a terse way of acting as well as of speaking, and the -change that made life such a different thing for both of us actually -took place that very day as ever was. When the unknown admirer would -have followed young Mrs. Filmer in her evening walk--it was too hot to -go out earlier--there was no such person. Mrs. Braye was dining -delicately at a pleasant seaside hostelry, in the company of her lawful -protector, whose name alone was like a charm to keep his proud wife in -safety. - -We gave ourselves until Wednesday morning. Then we worked all Wednesday -and Thursday, like two navvies, to settle ourselves in the small lodging -that we selected for our first home. We were as poor as poor could be -and had to proceed accordingly, but little I cared for that, or for -anything now that I had him. On Friday afternoon he sailed--a -subordinate on that trumpery intercolonial boat, after being captain and -lord of an English ship--and I cried all night, and counted the hours -all day till he returned, when I went quite daft with joy. Not that much -joy was allowed us, even now, seeing that the greater part of his short -sojourn in port had to be spent on board. But it was wonderful what -value we could cram into the precious minutes when we did get them. -Again we had the agony of parting, the weary interval of separation, the -renewed bliss of the return, continually intensified; and then the -letters came--the letters we had tried, so unsuccessfully, to wait for. -Father desired me to come home for a time--a foregone conclusion--and -Miss Coleman did the same in more impassioned sentences. I daresay it -was heartless, but I laughed and danced with delight to know that it was -all too late for advice of that sort. And, to counteract any possible -feeling of remorse, Aunt Kate wrote in the sweetest way, all fun and -jokes, practically approving and encouraging me in the course I had -taken. To a young woman so situated, she said, fathers were quite -useless and superfluous, and she advised me to please myself, as I had -always done--that was how she put it. Best of all, she sent me a draft -for L500, either to come home with or for a wedding present, as the case -might be. And this precious windfall enabled us to take a little private -house that we could make a proper home of. - - * * * * * - -The worst of being on these small lines is the uncertainty about the -movements of your ship. In winter Tom would run one trip for months, or -suddenly stop in the middle for docking and repairs--a mere excuse for -laying up, I used to say, because trade was not paying expenses--in -which case he would have a holiday without salary, and the pleasure of -his companionship would be marred by anxieties about money. In summer -there were occasional special excursions, "round tours," that kept him -away for a month or six weeks at a time; and these were what I dreaded -most. - -We had not yet had this long separation, but I knew--knew, but would not -admit--there was danger of it when we had been married a little less -than a year. It was our second Australian summer, and the time of all -times when I could not endure to part from him. I had now grown -accustomed to having him at home for a day and a couple of nights -weekly--happily he had a command again, such as it was, and could do as -he liked in port--and that was far, far too little, under the -circumstances. - -He was sleeping late, and I, having prepared his breakfast, sat down by -an open window to read the morning paper until he should appear. As a -matter of course, I _always_ saw the name of our ship before I saw -anything else, even the Births, Marriages, and Deaths; she had her place -in a list of the company's vessels, with her sailing dates, in smallish -print, answering to her comparatively modest rank in life; my eye fell -on the exact spot by instinct in the moment of the page becoming -visible. I suppose it was the same instinct which to-day drew my first -glance to quite another column, where s.s. Bendigo stood in larger type. -My heart jumped and seemed to stop--"Christmas Holiday Excursion to West -Coast of New Zealand, if sufficient inducement offers." There it was! -And I felt I had all along expected it. - -I got up to run to Tom with the news. On second thoughts I decided to -let him have his sleep out before dealing him a blow that would spoil -his rest for many a night to come, and tramped round and round the -breakfast-table, moaning and wringing my hands, asking cruel Fate why -Christmas should be chosen--_this_ Christmas of all times--and how I was -to get through without my husband to take care of me. - -My husband looked most concerned when he saw what I was doing. "Hullo, -Polly, what's up?" was his greeting, as he faced me from the doorway; -and his bright home-look vanished like a lamp blown out. - -I could not speak for the rush of tears. I held out the newspaper, -pointing to the fatal spot, and, when he took it, abandoned myself upon -his shoulder. - -"Oh, Tom--Christmas! _Christmas_, Tom!" - -He read in silence, with an arm round my waist. For a whole minute and -more we heard the clock ticking. Then he cleared his throat, and said -soothingly: "After all, it mayn't come to anything--at any rate, not -till afterwards. People don't care to be away from their homes at -Christmas. It's only an approximate date." - -He was wrong. The postponements that invariably take place at other -times did not occur this time--as if on purpose. The hot weather set in -early, and it seemed that many people did desire to escape, not from it -only, but from the social responsibilities of the so-called festive -season. The Bendigo was a good boat, as everybody knew, and her captain -a great favourite with the travelling public. I don't wonder at it! So -that the passenger list filled rapidly, and every day brought us less -hope of a reprieve. Tom seemed a year older each time that he returned -from the regular voyage, bringing this information, and I know I nearly -drove him mad with my pale face and tear-sodden eyes. One day he told me -so. - -"_What_ am I to do?" he groaned, staring strangely. "How can I leave you -like this? I can't, I can't! and yet, if I don't go, Polly--it is all -our living, my dear----" - -Nothing ever frightened me so much. For _him_ to have that look of -agitation--my strong rock of protection and defence--he who had never -wondered what he was to do, but always knew and did it, while others -wondered--it was too shocking. I pulled myself together immediately. - -"After all," I said, with a gulp and a smile, "the other poor seamen's -wives have to take their chance of this sort of thing, so why not I?" - -"You," he replied, in his fond, stupid way, "are not like the others, my -pretty one." - -He meant that I was far more choice and precious. - -"Being pretty," I rejoined, "is no disadvantage that I know of, having -regard to the present circumstances. Now if I was delicate, then you -_might_ be anxious. Tommy, dear, I can't have you look like that! And -there's no reason in the world why I should not do as well as -possible--as well as everybody else does; indeed, I'm sure I shall. Of -course I shall miss you awfully--awfully"--my cheerful voice quavered in -spite of myself--"but there will be the proper people to look after me, -and--and--_think_ what it will be when you come back again!" - -He had me in his arms now, with my face under his left ear. - -"My brave girl!" he murmured. "My own brave girl!" - -Just as when he called me that before, my heart rose elated. I -determined to deserve the title. - -"Of course you must go," I said firmly; "it is our living, as you say. -No use having a family, and nothing to keep it on, is it? I suppose it -won't be _more_ than a month? A month is soon over. I can send you -telegrams. Don't you worry about me. I'm a wicked idiot to fret and -grumble; it is because you have spoiled me, love! I have got so used to -having you to take care of me----" - -I choked, and burst into fresh tears. - -However, I did manage to keep up very well until he went. Of course he -_had_ to go; we agreed about that. Not much of Aunt Kate's wedding -present was left by this time. We had our little home, all comfortable -and paid for, but his small salary comprised the whole of our current -income. It would never have done to jeopardise that. - -But oh, it was cruel! It _was_ cruel! He says I shall never understand -the agony of his soul when he bade me good-bye, and I tell him he can't -possibly have suffered the thousandth part of what I suffered. We -clasped and kissed as if we never expected to see each other again. I -really don't think we did expect it. And yet I was quite well and -strong, and every possible thing had been done to safeguard me in his -absence. Poor as we were, he made the nurse, who charged three guineas a -week, come into the house before he left it, and engage to stay there -till his return; and he also installed a nice old lady, whose son he had -befriended, and who he thought would be a mother to me when the time of -trial came. So she was; but not even an own mother could have made up -for the want of him. - -"God keep you safe for me," he prayed, as he held me to him, heart to -heart. "And you'll take care of yourself, my Polly. You won't fret, and -make yourself sick and weak--promise that you won't--for my sake!" - -"I won't," I answered him, trying to comfort him; "I will be as good as -possible. We'll _both_ be well and strong--well and happy--to meet you -when you come home again. Tom! Tom! _do_ you realise what the next -home-coming will be? Let us look forward to that." - -So I kept up to the last, to hearten him. The very last was the seeing -the ship go by at nightfall, on her way to sea. I lived where I lived on -purpose to have this view of her as she passed in and out. I watched for -her for an hour, and when she came it was too dark for me to see my -darling on the bridge through the strong glasses he had given me on -purpose that I might see him, and the flutter of his cabin towel against -the black funnel. Nor could he see me in the blue dusk of the shore, -with the evening afterglow behind it. But he sent a farewell toot across -the water, and I pulled the blind to the top of my window, and lit up my -room with every lamp and candle I could find. I knew he was looking, and -that he knew I knew it. We always signalled good-night in this way when -he passed out late. - -So I kept up to the very last. But when I saw his mast-head light go -round the pier, like a bright star in the evening sky, and glide towards -the sea that was to keep him from me so long when I wanted him so -desperately, then I collapsed like a spent bubble, and all my courage -went out of me. I think I fainted there by the window, all of a heap -upon the floor. - -At any rate, his back was hardly turned--he could scarcely have cleared -the Heads, we reckoned--when the catastrophe befell. I have often tried -to imagine what his feelings were when, at his first port of call, the -intelligence was conveyed to him that he had a son, and that mother and -child were doing well. He attempted to express them by letter, but he is -not literary. And he can't gush. All the same, I know--I know! - -Did I say that the happiest moment of my life was when he called me a -brave girl? I was wrong. The happiest moment of my life--even though Tom -was away from me--was the moment when I heard the first cry of my own -child. Words cannot describe the effect on me of that little voice so -suddenly audible, as great an astonishment as if one had never expected -it; but every mother in the world will understand. - -Oh, I am getting maudlin with these reminiscences! I can't help it. - -He was a beautiful boy--my Harry--worthy to be his father's son. We -called him Harry because Henry was Tom's second name, and also that of -my own father, whom I wished to please; for, after all, he was a good -father to me, and I used to think that perhaps I had not been as good a -daughter to him as I might have been. This thought occurred to me when I -had a baby of my own, and wondered how I should feel if, when he was -grown up, he were to take his own wilful way as I had done. It does make -such a difference in one's point of view, with regard to all sorts of -things--having a baby of one's own. For instance, I knew that Miss -Coleman--Mrs. Marsh, I ought to say--had two, and when Aunt Kate told me -I was actually angry about it; it seemed to me that it was just another -impertinence on her part, and that the children were interlopers in my -old home. I could not bear to picture them sitting on father's knee, and -being carried in his arms, filling my place and consoling him for the -loss of me. But now I was quite glad that he had them, and I sympathised -with Miss Coleman. I wished she could come and nurse me now, as she used -to do; how much better we should understand each other! I resolved to -have baby's likeness taken as soon as possible to send home to her, and -to ask her to send me the photos of her little ones in return. I was -convinced, of course, that there would be no comparison between them. -Doubtless hers were nice children enough--father was a particularly -handsome man, in the prime of life--but my baby was really a marvel; -_everybody_ said so. His proportions were perfect, his skin as fine and -pure as could possibly be, his little face too lovely for words, and his -intelligence simply wonderful. Before he was a week old he knew me and -smiled at me. He had Tom's fair hair and straightforward blue eyes---- - -However, I suppose all this is silly. At any rate, the silly fashion is -to call it so. - -It was dreadfully hot upstairs in that venetian-shuttered room, but -still I rallied quickly, and everything went well. The old lady was -indeed a mother to me, the nurse inflexibly conscientious, and my own -little maid like a faithful dog upon the doormat, constantly asking to -look at the baby and to be allowed to hold him. And yet--I know it was -ungrateful to them, but I could not help it--I never felt that I was -properly taken care of, because Tom was not behind them. I pined for -him--oh, _how_ I did pine for him!--happy as I was in every other -respect. While I was still weak, and inclined to be a little feverish, I -fell asleep and dreamed that the Bendigo had been wrecked, and that he -would never come home to see his child. I cannot describe how that dream -frightened me and haunted me--that, and the memory of our last parting, -when we seemed to have had so many forebodings. - -"If I could only go to him!" was my constant thought, knowing that weary -weeks had still to pass before he could return to me, even if his voyage -prospered; and once I put it into words, "If we could only go to him, -Mrs. Parkinson, _what_ wouldn't I give!" - -The old lady patted my shoulder soothingly, and assured me he would be -home in no time, if I would have but a grain of patience; while I had to -reflect that it was impossible to go a-travelling without money. I would -have "given anything" indeed, but I had nothing to give, though Tom had -amply provided for all my wants at home. Moreover, I could only have -left the house, while she was in it, over the dead body of my nurse. I -could manage the old lady, but not her; she was a rock of resolution -where her duty was concerned. - -Suddenly a series of things happened. The old lady had a telegram -summoning her to the sick-bed of her son--the very son that Tom had been -so good to--and flew to him, distracted. Poor old lady! My mother's -heart bled for her. And next day my little maid upset a kettle of -boiling water over the nurse (providentially, when the baby was not in -her arms), and the poor thing had to go to a hospital to have the -scalds dressed. She sent a substitute at once, because it was found that -she was for a few days incapacitated for her work; but I was able to -manage without the substitute. I told her I was now perfectly well--as -in truth I was--and therefore did not require her services. And the day -after that, by the English mail, I had a letter from _dear_ Aunt Kate, -which, when I opened it, shed a bank draft upon the floor. She had heard -that I was going to have a baby, and sent fifty pounds to pay expenses. -A box of baby-clothes, she said, had been despatched by the same ship; -for she didn't suppose I had any money to buy them, or that, if I had, I -could get anything in "that outlandish country" fit for a poor child to -wear. - -I went straight into town and cashed that draft, taking my son with -me--proud to carry him myself, though he nearly dragged my arms off. At -the same time I ascertained at the company's office that the Bendigo was -hourly expected to report herself from Sydney. - -"We will go to Sydney," said I to my little companion, as we travelled -home again, rich and free. "We'll get Martha's mother to come and keep -house until we all return together--with _father_ to take care of us." - -That same night I had a wire from him. He was safe at Sydney, all well; -and would I telegraph immediately to inform him how it was with me? -Would I also write fully and at once, so that he might get the letter -before he left? - -"We will telegraph immediately, to set his dear mind at rest," I said to -the son, who smiled and guggled as if he perfectly understood--and I am -sure he did; "but we won't write fully and at once. We can get to him as -quickly as a letter, and he would rather have us than a million letters. -Oh, what a simply overwhelming surprise we shall give him!" I was so -full of this blissful prospect that I never thought how I might be -embarrassing him in his professional capacity. - -There were no intercolonial railways then, and we could not have stood -the wear and tear of overland travel if there had been. Nor was there -any choice in the matter of sea transport. I was obliged to take the -mail steamer that brought me Aunt Kate's money, for it was the only -vessel going to Sydney that could get me there in time. I had to be very -smart to catch her, and just managed it, leaving my home at the mercy of -a plausible red-nosed charwoman who was all but a perfect stranger to -me. - -Of course I was an idiot--I know that; but, as Tom says, you can't put -old heads on young shoulders, and don't want to; and there is no -occasion to remember things of that sort now. _He_ never blamed me for a -moment, and I am sure I cannot regret what I did, when I weigh the -pleasures of that expedition against what in the end we had to pay for -them. They were richly worth it. - -The voyage, even without the nursemaid whom I did not feel justified in -adding to my other extravagances, not only did me no harm, but really -invigorated me. A new-made mother, I had been informed, was never -sea-sick, and my experience seemed to prove the fact; while as for baby, -in spite of his catching a little cold, which he might have caught at -home, the exquisite sea air must have been better for him than the -gutter smells of Melbourne. He was as good as gold, and the stewardess -was an angel, and we slept like tops all through our two nights on -board. - -It was afternoon when we entered Sydney Harbour--that beautiful harbour -which I had never seen before, but had no eyes for now. All I cared to -look at was my beloved Bendigo, and there she was at her berth, and the -blue-peter was up! When I saw that, I felt quite faint. I ran round the -deck asking everybody when she was expected to leave, and all but those -who did not know said at five o'clock. It was now three. So that, with -other weather, I might have missed her! And Tom would have gone home to -find----Great heavens! But with the misadventures that we did have, -there is no need to count those we didn't. As it chanced, I was in -plenty of time. - -It was nearly four before I could get off the mail boat, and it was -considerably past that hour when I hurried up the gangway of the -Bendigo, panting, and bathed in perspiration--for Sydney is a hot place -in January--looking everywhere for Tom. The second officer, who knew me, -uttered an exclamation as he ran to take my bag from the cabman; and the -way he looked at baby--then asleep, fortunately--was very funny. - -"Oh, Mr. Jones," I cried, "is the captain on board?" - -"No, Mrs. Braye; he's on shore," was the reply, accompanied with violent -blushes. "You must have missed him somehow. Are you--are you going back -with us?" - -"Of course I am," I said, as calmly as I could. "But he does not know it -yet. I had some business in Sydney, and I thought I would give him a -surprise. Don't tell him, please; I will go up to his cabin on the -bridge and wait for him." - -"He may be here any moment," said the young man. And, looking to right -and left in an embarrassed way, he asked if he should call the -stewardess. - -"Not yet," I returned affably. "I will ring when I want her. He will -sleep for a long time. He's such a good baby--not the least little bit -of trouble." And then I turned back the lace handkerchief from the -placid face, and asked Mr. Jones what he thought of that for a month-old -child. - -He said he was no judge, and behaved stupidly. So I left him, and went -up to the bridge, where Tom had a room composed of a bunk and a bay -window, entirely sacred to himself. I don't suppose a baby had ever been -in it, but the pillows and things I found there made a perfect cradle. -As I laid my little one down on his father's bed, I was afraid the -thumping of my heart would jog him awake, but it did not. He sank into -his nest without sound or movement, leaving me free to watch at the -window for Tom's coming. - -It was past five o'clock before he came, and I knew when I saw him why -he was so late. He had been looking for his expected letter up to the -last moment, and had now abandoned hope. I also knew that somebody on -deck had betrayed my secret when I heard the change in his step as he -ran upstairs. Ah--ah! Before I could arrange any plan for my reception -of him I was in his arms. Before either of us could ask questions, we -had to overcome the first effects of an emotion which arrested breath as -well as speech. Never when we were lovers had we kissed each other as we -did now. - -"But what--how--why--where?" the dear fellow stuttered, when we began to -collect our wits; and in the same bold and incoherent style I -simultaneously gave my explanation. Half a minute sufficed to dispose of -these necessary preliminaries. Then I led him into his own cabin, the -doorway of which I had been blocking up. - - * * * * * - -"But what are we going to do with him?" Tom asked--a singular question, -I considered, but he was full of the business of the ship--I wondered -how he _could_ think about the ship at such a moment. "Hadn't you better -make a nursery of my cabin on deck? It's empty, and the stewardess'll -rig you up whatever you want." - -"I will make a nursery of it," I replied, "when I want to bath and dress -him for the night. And, by the way, perhaps I had better do that now, -before we start." For our son had been wakened out of his sleep, in -order that his father should see how blue his eyes were. - -"Yes, yes, do it now," urged Tom, in a coaxing way. It was sweet of him -not to cloud my perfect happiness by hinting at the scandalous breach of -etiquette it would be to let a baby appear on the bridge while he was -taking the ship out. For my part, I never thought of it. - -He took me down to the deck, now crowded with people, who stared rudely -at us, and into the one cabin there, which was his own; and he called -the stewardess--a delightful woman, charmed to have the captain's baby -on board--and left us together, while he rushed off to speak with the -superintendent of the Sydney office, I suppose about my passage. Soon -afterwards we started, and until we were away at sea I was fully -occupied with Harry's toilet. Then came dinner, and Tom made me go in -with him, while the stewardess stayed with the child; and the short -evening was taken up with preparations for the night. It was arranged -that I should spend it in the nursery, of course, and I was strongly -advised to retire early. - -But the cabin was hot, and the outside air was cool, and I simply could -not rest so far from Tom. The moonlight was lovely at about ten o'clock, -so bright that, stepping out on the now deserted deck to look for him, I -could plainly see his figure moving back and forth at the end of the -bridge, outlined against the sky. And I could not bear it. Slipping back -into my room to pick up my child and roll him in a shawl, I prepared to -storm the position with entreaties that I felt sure my husband was not -the husband to withstand. - -He came plunging down the stairs just as I was about to ascend. I -stopped, and called to him. - -"Tom, _do_ let me be with you!" - -"I was on my way to you, Polly, to see if you were awake, and would like -to come up for a little talk. It's quiet now." - -He put his arm round my waist, and turned to hoist me upward. - -"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "Is that----" - -"Of course it is. You wouldn't have me leave him behind, all alone by -himself?" - -"But won't he catch his death of cold?" - -"How can he, on a night like this? It will do him good. And I won't let -him cry, Tom." - -"Give him to me. I'll carry him up." - -"_Can_ you?" - -He laughed, and took the little creature from me in a delightfully -paternal fashion, and without bungling at all. I had been half afraid -that he was going to turn out like so many men--like Mr. Jones, for -instance--but had no misgivings after that. Even when we encountered Mr. -Jones on duty, he was not ashamed to let his officer see him with an -infant in his arms. Certainly he was born to be a father, if anybody -ever was. - -It was very stuffy in his little house, which had the funnel behind it; -so he put a chair for me outside, under the shelter of the screen, and I -sat there for some time. It was simply the _sweetest_ night! The sea is -never still, of course, however calm it may be, but its movements were -just as if it were breathing in its sleep. And the soft, wide shining of -the moon in that free and airy space--what a dream it was! At intervals -Tom came and dropped on the floor, so that he could lean against my knee -and get a hand down over his shoulder. The man at the wheel could see -us, but carefully avoided looking--as only a dear sailor would do. The -binnacle light was in his face, and I watched him, and saw that he never -turned his eyes our way. As for Prince Hal, he slept as if the sea were -his natural cradle. So it was. - -Presently Tom went off the bridge, and when he returned a steward -accompanied him, carrying a mattress, blankets, and pillows, which he -made up into a comfortable bed beside me. - -"How will that do?" my husband inquired, rubbing the back of a finger -against my cheek. "It isn't the first time I've made you a bed on -deck--eh, old girl?" - -I was wearing a dressing-gown, and lay down in it, perfectly at ease. He -lowered the child into my arms, punched the pillows for our heads, -tucked us up, and kissed us. - -"This is on condition that you sleep," he said. - -"It is a waste of happiness to sleep," I sighed ecstatically. "I want to -lie awake to revel in it." - -"If I see you lying awake an hour hence," he rejoined, pretending to be -stern, while his voice was so full of tenderness that he could scarcely -control it, "I shall send you back to your cabin, Polly." - -So I did not let him see it. But for several hours, when he was not -looking, I watched his dear figure moving to and fro, and the sea, and -the stars, with the smoke from the funnel trailing over them, and -revelled in full consciousness of my utter bliss. - -Even now--after all these years--I get a sort of lump in my throat when -I think of it. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -A PAGE OF LIFE. - - -Does love fly out of the window when poverty walks in at the door? No, -no--of course not! Only when love is an imitation love, selfish and -cowardly, as true love can never be. I am sure ours stayed with us -always, no matter how cramped and starved. We never felt a regret for -having married each other, even when the practical consequences were -most unpleasant--never, never, not for a single instant. And yet--and -yet--well, it is all over now. One need not make one's self gratuitously -uncomfortable by reviving memories of hardships long gone by, and never -likely to be repeated. - -Another thing. _Is_ it fair that a sea-captain should have such -miserable wage for such magnificent work? He has no play-hours, like -other working men, no nights' rest, no evenings at home, no Saturday -holidays--no Sundays even--and no comfort of his wife and family. He is -exposed to weather that you would not turn a dog into, and to fatigue -only measured by the extent of human endurance; and accepts both without -a thought of protest. He has the most awful responsibilities continually -on his mind, as to which he is more inflexibly conscientious than any -landsman living; and he is broken and ruined if an accident happens that -he is but technically to blame for and did his utmost to prevent. Yet -all he gets in return is a paltry twenty pounds a month! At least, that -is what Tom got--with an English certificate and a record without a -flaw. It is because sailors are not money-grubbers, as landsmen are, -that the money-grubbers take advantage of them. - -Tom used to bring his money home and give it all to me, and he almost -apologised for having to ask for a little now and then, to provide -himself with clothes and tobacco. Moreover, he never pried into my -spendings, though anxious that I should be strict and careful, and -pleased to be asked to advise me and to audit my small accounts. In this -he was the most gentlemanly husband I ever heard of. And of course I -strained every nerve to manage for the best, and prove myself worthy of -the confidence reposed in me. But I was not much of a housekeeper in -those days. At home Miss Coleman had attended to everything, even to the -buying of my frocks; for my father had never made me an allowance--which -I do think is so wrong of fathers! If you are not taught the value of -money when you are a girl, how are you to help muddling and blundering -when you are a married woman?--especially if you marry a poor man. I -thought at first that twenty pounds a month was riches. But even at the -first, and though we used enough of Aunt Kate's wedding present to cover -the cost of setting up a house, there seemed nothing left over at the -month's end, try as I would to be economical. When the second draft -came I had doctor's and nurse's fees like lead upon my mind; we did not -invest that hundred at all, and it melted like smoke. And then--before -Harry was fairly out of arms--Phyllis was born, and I was delicate for a -long time; without a second servant my nursery cares would have killed -me. I thought Aunt Kate would have sent me help again, but she did -not--perhaps because I had neglected to write to her, being always so -taken up with household cares. And I got into arrears with the -tradesmen, and into the way of paying them "something on account," as I -could spare the money and not as it was due; and this wrecked the -precise system that Tom had made such a point of, so that I kept things -from him rather than have him worried when he wanted rest. And it was -miserable to be struggling by myself, weighed down with sordid -anxieties, tossing awake at night to think and think what I could do, -never any nearer to a solution of the everlasting difficulty, but rather -further and further off. And I know I was very cross and fretful--how -could I help it?--and that my poor boy must often have found the home -that should have cheered him a depressing place. He seemed not to like -to sleep while I was muddling about, and used to look after the -children, or clean the knives and boots, when he should have been -recruiting in his bed for the next voyage. For I was again obliged to do -as I could with one poor maid-of-all-work, and I am afraid--I really am -a little afraid sometimes--that I have a tendency to be inconsiderate -when I have much to think of. - -By the time that Bobby was born--we had then been five years -married--all the romance of youth seemed to have departed from us, dear -as we were to one another. Our talk when we met was of butchers and -bakers, rents and rates, the wants of the house and how they could be -met or otherwise; and we had to shout sometimes to make ourselves heard -above the noise of crying babies and the clack of the sewing-machine. It -was exactly like the everyday, commonplace, perfunctory, prosaic -married life that we saw all around us, and to the level of which we had -thought it impossible that _we_ should ever sink. - -Tom says, no. On second thoughts I do too. The everyday marriage was not -dignified with those great moments of welcome and farewell, those tragic -hours of the night when the husband was fighting the wind and sea and -the wife listening to the rattle of the windows with her heart in her -mouth--such as, for the time being, uplifted us above all things tame -and petty. And what parents, jogging along in the groove of easy custom, -can realize the effect of trials such as some of those that our peculiar -circumstances imposed on us, in keeping the wine of life from growing -flat and stale. The same thing happened at Bobby's birth as at Harry's, -Tom was perforce away, and I might have died alone without his knowing -it. Three months later the little one took convulsions and was given up -by the doctor; and the father again was out of reach, and might have -come home to find his baby underground. Never shall I forget those -times of anguish and rapture--and many besides, which proved that -nothing in the world was of any consequence to speak of compared with -our value to one another. - -But we forget so soon! And the little things have such power to swamp -the big ones. They are like the dust and sand of the desert, which cover -everything if not continually dredged away. And all those little debts -and privations and schemings and strugglings to make ends meet that -would not meet, were enough to choke one. Especially as Bobby cut his -teeth with more trouble than any baby I ever had, and as I, what with -one thing and another, grew quite disheartened and out of health, so -that I never knew what it was not to feel tired. - -The ignoble sorrows of this period--which I hate to think of--seemed to -culminate on the morning of the day that I am going to tell of--at the -end of which they were so joyfully dispelled. - -Bobby had cried incessantly through the night, so that I had only slept -in snatches, just enough to make me feel more heavy and yawny than if I -had not slept at all. I dragged myself dispiritedly out of bed, dying -for the cup of tea which did not appear till an hour after its time, and -was then brought to me rank and cold from standing, with no milk in it. - -"I forgot to put the can out last night," was Maria's cheerful -explanation, "and I waited in hopes that the milkman would come back, -but he didn't. And, please'm, what shall I do about the children's -breakfast?" - -"You mean to say you never left a drop over from yesterday, in case of -accidents?" I demanded, tears rushing into my eyes. "Oh, Ma-_ria!_" - -It sounds a poor thing to cry about, but I appeal to mothers to say if I -was a fool. Bobby was a bottle baby, and we had all our milk from one -cow on his account; and he was ill, and the dairy at least a mile away. -Rarely had I trusted Maria to remember to put the can out for the -morning supply, delivered before she was up; I used to hang it on the -nail myself. But last night, having my hands so full, I had contented -myself with telling her twice over not to forget it. With this result! -At any moment the poor child might awake and cry for food, and a -spoonful of stale dregs was all I had for him. - -There and then, with clenched teeth and a lump in my throat, and boots -on my feet that had mere rags of soles to them, I set off with the -milk-can to that distant dairy. It was a thick morning, and presently -rained in torrents. When I arrived, drenched to the skin, I was told -that all the milk was with the cart, and I had to wait half an hour -until the proprietress could be persuaded to give me a little. She was -unsympathetic and disobliging--I suppose because I had not paid her -husband for three months. On my return home Bobby, in Maria's arms, was -shrieking himself into another fit of convulsions; and the other -children, catching their deaths of cold in their nightgowns, were -paddling about on flagstones and oilcloth, fighting and squalling, and -trying to light the dining-room fire. They imagined they were helping, -but had spilled coals all over the carpet and used the crumb-brush to -spread the black dust afterwards; and the wonder is that they didn't -burn the house down. - -It was not quite just perhaps--poor little things, they _were_ trying -their best--but the first thing I did was to box the ears of both of -them and send them back to bed. I don't think I ever saw them, as -babies, take so small a punishment so greatly to heart. They snuffled -and sulked for hours--wouldn't even show an interest in the apricot jam -and boiled rice that I gave them for their breakfast and imagined would -be a treat to them--and were more vexatious and tiresome than words can -say. - -"I wish father was home," Harry kept muttering, in that moody way of -his; it is the thing he always said when he wanted to be particularly -aggravating. "Phyllis, I wish father was here, don't you?" - -"Oh," I cried, "you don't wish it more than I do! If father were here, -he'd pretty soon make you behave yourselves. _He_ wouldn't let you drive -your mother distracted when she's already got so much to worry her, with -poor little brother sick and all." Tears were in my eyes, as they must -have seen, but the heartless little brats were not in the least -affected. - -And father's absence was an extra anxiety, for he was hours and hours -behind his time. The papers reported fogs along the coast, and I thought -of shipwrecks as the day wore on, and began to feel that it would be -quite consistent with the drift of things if I were to get news -presently that the Bendigo had gone down. I knew how he dreaded fogs, -which made a good navigator as helpless as a bad one, and wondered if it -implied an instinctive presentiment that a fog was to be his ruin! I -remembered his telling me that if ever he was so unfortunate as to lose -his ship, he should cast himself away along with her; and the appalling -idea filled me not with anguish only, but with a sort of indignation -against him. - -"And he with a young family depending on him!" I cried in my heart--as -if he had already done it--"and a wife who would die if he went from -her!" - -I was in that state of mind and health that when, early in the -afternoon, I heard him come stumbling in, my solicitude for him suddenly -passed, and only the bitter sense of grievance remained. The grocer had -been calling in person, insolent about his account, which indeed had -been growing to awful dimensions; and I was fairly sick of the whole -thing. It was not my poor old fellow's fault, for he gave me his money -as fast as he got it, but somehow I felt as if it was. And when he -dumped down on the sofa beside me to look at Bobby, I began at -once--without even kissing him--to pour out all my woes. - -I was reckless with misery and headache, and did not care what I said. I -told him things I had been scrupulously keeping from him for -months--things which I imagined would harrow him frightfully, much to my -sorrow when it would be too late. And he--even _he_--seemed callous! He -mumbled a soothing word or two, and fell silent. I asked him for advice -and sympathy, and he never answered me. - -Looking at him, I saw that his eyes were shut, his head dropped, his -great frame reeling as he sat, trying to prop himself with his broad -hands on his broad, outspread knees. - -"Tom," I cried in despair, "you're not listening to a word I'm saying!" - -He jerked himself up. - -"I beg your pardon, Polly. The fact is, I'm dead-beat, my dear. It has -been foggy, you know, and I haven't dared to turn in these two nights." - -It seemed as if _everything_ was determined to go wrong. I could see -that his eyelids were swollen and gummy, and that he was half stupefied -with fatigue. - -"What a shame it is!" I passionately complained. "What wretches those -owners are--sitting at home in their armchairs, wallowing in luxury, -while they make you slave like this--and give you next to nothing for -it!" - -"It's no fault of theirs," said he. "They can't help the weather. And -when I've had a few hours' sleep I shall be as right as ninepence. Then -we'll talk things over, pet, and I'll see what can be done." - -I rose, with my sick child in my arms, and he stumbled after me into our -bedroom. For the first time it was not ready for him. I had been so -distracted with my numerous worries that I had forgotten to make the bed -and put away the litter left from all our morning toilets; the place was -a perfect pigsty for him to go into. And he coming so tired from the -sea--looking to his home for what little comfort his hard life afforded -him! When I saw the state of things, I burst into tears. With an -extremely grubby handkerchief he wiped them away, and kissed me and -comforted me. - -"What the deuce does it matter?" quoth he. "Why, bless your heart, I -could sleep on the top of a gatepost. Just toss the things on -anyhow--here, don't you bother--I'll do it." - -He was contented with anything, but I felt shamed and heart-broken to -have failed him in a matter of this kind--the more so because he _was_ -so unselfish and unexacting, so unlike ordinary husbands who think wives -are made for no other purpose than to keep them always comfortable. In -ten minutes he was snoring deeply, and I was trying not to drop tears -into the little stew I was cooking for his tea. - -"At least he shall have a nice tea," I determined, "though goodness -knows how I am going to pay for it." - -Poor baby was easier, and asleep in his cradle; the two others had gone -to play with a neighbour's children. So the house was at peace for a -time, and that was a relief. It was also an opportunity for -thinking--for all one's cares to obtrude themselves upon the mind--and -the smallest molehills looked mountains under the shadow of my physical -weariness. - -Having arranged the tea-table and made up the fire, I sat down for a -moment, with idle hands in my lap; and I was just coming to the sad -conclusion that life wasn't worth living--wicked woman that I was!--when -I heard the evening postman. Expecting nothing, except miserable little -bills with "account rendered" on them, I trailed dejectedly to the -street door. Opening it, a long-leaved book was thrust under my nose, -and I was requested to sign for a registered letter. - -"Ah-h-h!" I breathed deeply, while flying for a pen. "It is that -ever-blessed Aunt Kate--I know it is! She seems to divine the exact -moment by instinct." - -I scribbled my name, received the letter, saw my father's handwriting, -and turned into the house, much sobered. For father, who was a bad -correspondent--like me--had intimated more than once that he was finding -it as much as he could do to make ends meet, with his rapidly -increasing family. - -I sat down by the fire, opened the much-sealed envelope, and looked for -the more or less precious enclosure. I expected a present of five pounds -or so, and I found a draft for a hundred. The colour poured into my -face, strength and vigour into my body, joy and gladness into my soul, -as I held the document to the light and stared at it, to make sure my -eyes had not deceived me. Oh, what a pathetic thing it is that the -goodness of life should so depend upon a little money! Even while I -thought that hundred pounds was all, I was intoxicated with the prospect -before me--bills paid, children able to have change of air, Tom and I -relieved from a thousand heartaches and anxieties which, though they -could not sour him, yet spoiled the comfort of our home because they -sapped my strength and temper. - -I ran to wake him and tell him how all was changed in the twinkling of -an eye; but when I saw him so heavily asleep, my duty as a sailor's -wife restrained me. Nothing short of the house burning over his head -would have justified me in disturbing him. I went back to my -rocking-chair to read my father's letter. - -Well, here was another shock--two or three shocks, each sharper than the -last. My beloved aunt was dead. She had had an uncertain heart for -several years, and it had failed her suddenly, as is the way of such. -She went to church on a Sunday night, returned in good spirits and -apparently good health, ate a hearty supper, retired to her room as -usual, and was found dead in her bed next morning when her maid took in -her tea. This sad news sufficed me for some minutes. Seen through a -curtain of thick tears, the words ran into each other, and I could not -read further. Dear, dear Aunt Kate! She was an odd, quick-tempered old -lady, cantankerous at times; but how warm-hearted, how just and -generous, how good to me, even when I did not care to please her! When -one is a wife, and especially when one is a mother, all other -relationships lose their binding power; but still I could not help -crying for a little while over the loss of Aunt Kate. And I can honestly -say that I did not think of her money until after I had wiped my eyes -and resumed reading. When I turned over a leaf and saw the word, I -remembered the importance of her will to all her relatives. I said to -myself, "After all, the hundred pounds does come from her. It is her -legacy to me." And I was sordid enough to feel a pang of disappointment -because--being her last bequest--it was so small. - -"We buried her yesterday," wrote father, "and the will was read after -the funeral, and has proved a great and painful surprise to us. She has -left the bulk of her money to a man I never even heard of, an engineer -in India. Uncle John says his father was an admirer of hers when she was -a girl, but she never mentioned the name--Keating--to me, and I can't -understand the thing at all. She was always eccentric, and some of us -think we might contest the will with a fair chance of success. However, -my lawyer advises to the contrary, and my wife also; so I, for one, -shall let it go. - -"She has not altogether forgotten her own family. There are a number of -small legacies, including L2,000 for myself, which will come in very -usefully just now, though not a tithe of what I expected. I have also -some plate and furniture. You, my dear girl, are the best off of us all. -Besides jewellery and odds and ends, she has left you the interest of -L10,000 (in Government securities) for life, your children after you. -This will give you an income of L300 a year--small, but absolutely -safe--and relieve my mind of many anxieties on your behalf." He went on -to tell me about powers of attorney and other legal matters that I did -not understand and thought unworthy of notice at such a moment. He also -explained that lawyers were a dilatory race, and that he was advancing -L100 to tide me over the interval that must elapse before affairs were -settled. - -Again I went into my room and looked at Tom. How _could_ he sleep in a -house so charged with wild excitement! I regret to say it was that, and -not grief, which made my heart throb so that I wonder he did not feel -the bedstead shaking, and the very floor and walls. I ached with -suppressed exclamations; I tingled with an intolerable restlessness, as -if bitten by a thousand fleas. And still he lay like a log, drawing his -breath deeply and slowly, with soft, comfortable grunts; and still, in -an agony of self-control, I refrained from touching him. Baby woke up, -moist and smiling. His tooth was through; he seemed to know that it was -his business to get well at once. It is not only misfortunes that never -come singly; good luck is a thing that seldom rains but it pours. Harry -and Phyllis came home, took their tea peaceably, and went to bed like -lambs. I sent Maria, with half a sovereign, to a savoury cook-shop where -they sold fowls and hams and all sorts of nice things ready for table, -and she brought back a supper fit for a prince. - -"It is all right, Maria," I assured her, in my short-breathed, vibrating -voice, seeing her wonder at my extravagance. "I am rich now. I can -afford the captain something better than a twice-cooked stew. Spend it -all, Maria, on the best things you can get. And you shall have your -wages to-morrow, and a present of a new frock." - -When all was ready--the glazed chicken, the juicy slices of pink ham, -the wedge of rich Stilton, the bottle of English ale--I returned again -to my unconscious spouse. It was ten o'clock, and he had been sleeping -with all his might for seven hours. Surely that was enough! Especially -as he still had the whole night before him. I stroked his hair--I kissed -his forehead--I kissed his shut eyes. He can resist everything but that; -when I kiss his eyes he is obliged to stir and murmur and want kisses -for his lips. He stirred now, and turned up his dear old face. - -"Pol----" - -"Yes, darling, it's me. Are you awake?" - -He sighed luxuriously. - -"Tommy, _are_ you awake?" - -"Wha's th' time?" - -"It's _awfully_ late. Come, you won't sleep to-night if you don't get up -now." - -"Oh, sha'n't I? I could sleep for a week if I had the chance. Ah-hi-ow!" -He yawned like a drowsy lion. "I'd sooner have twenty gales than one -fog, Polly." - -"I know you would. But never mind about gales and fogs and trivial -things of that kind. I've something far, far more important to talk to -you about--something that will make your very hair stand on end with -astonishment. Only I want to be quite sure first that you are awake -enough to take it in." - -He called his faculties together in a moment as if I had been the -look-out man reporting breakers, and was all alive and alert to deal -summarily with the situation, whatever it might be. And I rushed upon my -story, showed him the letter and the draft, and poured out a jumbled -catalogue of all the things we could now do that wanted doing--beginning -with a leaking kettle and ending with his professional appointment, -which I had decided must be resigned forthwith. - -"And we will live together always and always, like other husbands and -wives, only that we shall be a thousand times happier," I concluded, as -I led him in to his supper, hanging on his arm. - -"No more fogs and gales, to wear you out and perhaps drown you in the -end, but your bed every night, and your armchair by the fire, your home -and family, and me--_me_----" - -"Little woman! But you mustn't forget, pet, that I'm not thirty-eight -till next birthday. A man can't give up work and sink into armchairs at -that age." - -"Of course he can't. We can find some nice post ashore. There are plenty -of things, if you look for them." - -"Not for sailor men, who know nothing but their trade." - -"Oh, heaps--any amount of heaps! And you can take your time, of course. -No need to hurry for a year or two. You want a long holiday. You have -never had one yet. And _I_ want _you_. What's the use of money, if we -can't enjoy it together? We have not had so much as one whole month to -ourselves since we were married." - -"Well, a sailor's wife must accept the conditions, you know." - -"Yes, when necessary. But it is not necessary now that we are people of -independent means." - -"Three hundred a year isn't three thousand. And we've got to educate the -kids, and put by for them." - -"No need to put by for them when they are to have my money after I am -dead." - -"For myself, then. You wouldn't like to die and leave me to sell matches -in the streets?" - -"Oh, Tom, don't talk about dying--now that it's so sweet to be alive!" - -"My dear, you began it. I vote we don't talk any more at all, but eat -our supper and go to bed. Here, sit down by me, and let us gorge. I -have had nothing since morning, and this table excites me to frenzy." - -We cut off the breast of the chicken for the children and a leg for -Maria, and demolished the rest. We drank the beer between us, out of one -tumbler; we devoured half of a crusty loaf, and cheese sufficient for a -dozen nightmares; and I never felt so well in my life as I did after it. -Tom said the same. - -But sleep was far away--even from him. We had to arrange our programme -for the morning--the fetching of Nurse Barber to take care of baby, the -business at the bank, the settlings of pressing accounts, the beginnings -of our innumerable shoppings; and whenever a silence fell that I knew I -should not break, something forced me to turn over in bed with a violent -fling and make loud ejaculations. - -"Oh, dear, kind, sweet Aunt Kate! To think that I am so pleased at -having her money that I cannot cry because she is dead! Oh, Tom, Tom! To -think that we never need owe a penny again--never, never, as long as we -live!" - -This was merely the effect of shock. We sobered down next day. And it -was wonderful how soon we grew accustomed to having an independent -income, and to feeling that it would not go half as far as it should. -Long and long had we spent the hundred pounds before the first -instalment of the annuity was paid over; we thought it was never coming, -and when it came it melted like snow in sunshine. One has no idea what -it costs to furnish even a small house comfortably until one begins to -do it, and a few doctor's bills play havoc with all one's calculations. -And my husband could not stay at home with me--rather, he would not. I -am sure there were dozens of situations that he might have had for the -asking--a man so universally beloved and respected--but he would not -ask. He was fit for the sea, he said, but would be a useless lubber -ashore--a fish out of water, a stranded hulk, and things of that sort. -The fact was he _preferred_ the sea--in which he differed from most -sailors--and hated streets and clubs and landsmen's pursuits. He said he -should choke if he were shut up in them, and I said, with tears, that he -cared more for the sea than he did for his wife and children. Of course -he declared it was not so, and his feelings were hurt; but he admitted -the strong affection. I was his mate as he described it, his nearest and -dearest--I and the children; but the sea was his comrade, to whom he had -grown accustomed--his foster mother, who had nursed him so long that she -had made him feel like a part of her. A foster mother is not much of a -rival to a wife so loved as I am, but, oh, how jealous of her I was! - -However, I don't believe that his affection for the sea had anything to -do with it. I doubt very much whether that affection was as genuine as -it appeared. My conviction is that he was in terror of the possible -indignity of having to live upon my money. Such utter nonsense!--when -wife and husband are absolutely one, as we were. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE BROKEN CIRCLE. - -I had my heart's desire at last--with the usual calamitous result. Of -course it came when I least expected it, and in the paltriest kind of -way--merely because a workman, whom I had engaged to put a new stove -into the children's play-room, chose to leave his job unfinished until -over Sunday, instead of clearing it off on Saturday morning, as he -easily might have done. There was no school on Saturday, and it was a -wet, cold day, when even the boys had to be kept indoors; so there was -nothing for it but to turn them and Phyllis into the dining-room--my -nice dining-room, which had lately had a new carpet--while I took the -drawing-room for myself and Lily, to keep her out of harm's way. She was -not very well--nor was I; and I confess that I was in a cross mood. I -had all my four children with me then, safe under my wing, and did not -know how well off I was! - -During the morning they were fairly good, preparing their lessons most -of the time; but after dinner they were at a loss for amusement, tired -of the house, restless and mischievous--very wearing to a mother whose -nerves were out of tune. Even Lily became fractious. I gave her a doll -and some picture-books and my work-basket to play with, but she fiddled -with them, and fidgeted, and would not settle to anything. She kept -listening to the noises from the dining-room--the boys paid no heed to -my repeated calls to them to be quiet--and uttering monotonous whinings -to be allowed to go there. - -"Mother, do let me go and play with the others." - -"No, Lily; little girls must not romp about with rough boys." - -"Phyllis is a little girl, and she's romping with them." - -"Phyllis hasn't a bad cold, as you have." - -"My cold is quite better now, mother." - -"No, it isn't. It is only a little better. And we mustn't let it get -worse again by running into draughts." - -"There are no draughts in the dining-room, mother. It's all shut up. I -can put the flannel round my neck, mother." - -Oh, I could have smacked her! But of course I didn't, poor little ailing -mite--barely three years old; besides, my attention was constantly -distracted by the boys, who, when not rushing into and out of the hall, -yelling and slamming doors as if they wanted to bring the house down, -were scuffling and thumping within the dining-room in a way to make me -tremble for my good furniture. I went to them once or twice to read the -riot act, and each time they left off what they were doing the moment -they heard me, sat mumchance while I scolded them, almost laughing in my -face, and went on worse than ever directly my back was turned. Boys will -be boys, Tom used to tell me, in his easy-going way, but I don't believe -in letting boys defy their mother with impunity. And when presently I -heard the yapping of a dog in addition to their own shouts and cries, I -was at the end of my patience with them, determined to assert myself -effectually once for all. - -Rushing into the dining-room, before they had time to hear me coming, -this is what I saw. The window open--cakes of mud all over the new -carpet--Bobby's dog, streaming with rain, on the nice tablecloth, -barking at Phyllis's cat planted on a silk sofa cushion, which she was -tearing and ravelling in her frantic claws--the children standing round, -Phyllis holding her cat, Bobby his dog, and Harry inciting the impotent -animals to fly at one another, all three consumed with laughter, as if -it were the greatest fun in the world. - -The first thing I did was to dash at Waif, knocking him out of Bobby's -hands and off the table--and I shall never forgive myself for that as -long as I live. It was a shabby mongrel terrier which Bobby had picked -up in the street one day on his way from school, and been allowed to -cure of starvation and a lame leg and keep for his own particular pet; -and the mutual devotion of the pair was a joke of the family. Waif was -now fat and strong, though as ugly as before, but when he scrambled up -from the fall I had given him he limped a little on the leg that had -been broken; and Bobby snatched him into his arms again, and turned upon -me with blazing eyes--Bobby, who had never given me impudence in the -whole course of his life. - -"Hit me, mother," said he, "if you like, but don't hit him--for nothing -at all." - -"You call that nothing?" I cried, and pointed to the pretty terra-cotta -cloth--one mass of smears and muddy footmarks. Ah, my precious boy! What -would a thousand terra-cotta tablecloths matter now? - -He seemed quite surprised to discover that a dog brought in from the -rain and a garden that was a perfect swamp could be wet and dirty, and -stared open-mouthed at the damage done. I marched him to the window and -made him drop Waif out, tossed the scratching kitten after him, shut -down the sash and locked it, and then turned to Harry. For Harry was -the eldest, the ringleader, the one who ought to have known better and -who set the example for the rest. - -"You do this on purpose to vex me," I cried vehemently, "and because you -know I am ill to-day, and that father is away!" I did not quite mean -that, but one cannot help saying rather more than one means in such -moments of acute exasperation. - -"Do what?" returned Harry, looking as surprised as Bobby had done. "I'm -not doing anything. And you never told us you were ill." - -"I have a raging headache," I said--and so I had as the result of the -long day's worry. "And I have been telling you the whole afternoon to be -quiet, and the more I tell you, the more you disobey me. Look at that -beautiful new carpet--ruined for ever! Look at that lovely -cushion--simply scratched to pieces! And a great, big boy like you, who -ought to be a comfort to his mother----" - -But there is no need to repeat all I said to him; indeed, I cannot -remember it; but my blood was up, and I know I scolded him severely. And -he answered me back, as he alone of all the children dared to do, which -of course made things worse; for if there is one thing I cannot stand it -is impertinence. He was just telling me that, if I chose to regard him -as a ruffian and a cad, he could not help it, when we heard a distant -door open--the way a door opens to the hand of the master of the house. - -"There!" I exclaimed passionately. "There's your father! We'll see what -_he_ says to the way you treat me when his back is turned." - -Tom came in, with that bright look he always wears when he sees us after -an absence. How could I have had the heart to extinguish it, and to make -his children quake at sight of his dear face, instead of flying to -welcome him, as was the rule on his return! But a mother's authority -_must_ be upheld. I said so to Tom, and he said I was perfectly right, -and that it was his business to see it done. He bade me explain what -was the matter, and I did so, softening things a little--more and more -as I went on--since, after all, it was nothing so very dreadful. Perhaps -I had been a little hasty and hard; I thought so when I saw how Tom was -taking it. He had that inexorable look of the commander confronted with -mutiny--as if really I were accusing the poor boys of murder at the -least. And when I saw how they stood before him--Bob downcast and -tearful, and Harry with his head up, teeth and hands clenched, too proud -to quail--oh, I would have given anything to save them! But it was too -late. - -"I am sure they didn't mean it," I protested, laying my hand on Harry's -shoulder, which felt as rigid as iron under it. "We can overlook it this -time, father, dear." - -"The one thing I will never overlook," he replied, "is misconduct -towards you when I leave you unprotected. If they don't know the first -rudiments of manliness--at their age--I must try to teach them." - -"But _that_ is not the way to teach them!" I cried--almost shrieked--as -he signed to them to pass out of the room before him. "Oh, Tom, don't! -don't! It is all my fault!" - -Harry turned and looked at me with an ice-cold smile, as if his face -were galvanised, and said calmly, "It is all right, mother. It is -_quite_ right." And then the three of them left me, Tom himself sternly -keeping me back when I tried to follow; and presently, with my head -buried in the torn pillow and my hands over my ears, I heard an agonised -wail from poor little Bob. Not from Harry, of course; he would be cut to -pieces before he would deign to cry out. Oh, what _brutes_ men are! I -hated Tom--though he was Tom--with a hatred that was perfectly murderous -while it lasted. - -We had our tea together alone--a thing that had never happened before, -on his first evening, since we had had a child old enough to sit up at -table. I had sent the little girls to bed--Phyllis for punishment, Lily -for her throat, and because I felt I could not stand her chatter--and -he had sent the boys. There were the usual first-night -delicacies--sweetbreads, wild ducks, honey in the combs--and for once -they were uneaten and unnoticed. All my preparations for his home-coming -were thrown away. He was glum and silent, evidently as upset as I was, -with no appetite for anything. As for me, I felt as if a crumb of bread -would choke me. And I would not speak to him--I could not--with that -shriek of Bobby's in my ears. - -"I suppose," he said, in a heavy voice--"I suppose I'd better resign my -billet and come home, Polly. They're getting pretty old now for you to -struggle with them single-handed. It's not fair to you, my dear." - -I treated this remark as if I had not heard it, and he soon rose from -his seat and left the room. He went into his little smoking den, shut -the door behind him, and locked it. - -When I thought him safely out of the way I stole off to see and comfort -my poor boys. They shared the same room, their beds standing side by -side, with a chair between them. When I crept in they were talking in a -low voice together; as soon as they heard me they fell silent and -pretended to be asleep. A smell of moist dog and an otherwise -unaccountable protuberance implied the presence of a third culprit--and -a flat contravention of one of the strict rules of the house--but I took -no notice, although terrified lest Bobby's shirt and sheets should be -dampened, and sickened by the thought of the fleas that would infest -him. Oh, how thankful I am now that I took no notice, and did not snatch -his bit of comfort from his arms! - -I sat down on the chair and leaned over Harry, smoothed his hair from -his brow, and kissed him. I might as well have kissed the bed-post. He -is a peculiar boy--a little hard-natured and perverse--and he can never -bear anybody to pity him. I was not surprised that he repulsed me, -though I felt dreadfully hurt. My beloved Bobby--my angel, whom I never -rightly appreciated until I had lost him--he was quite different. He -kissed me back again, and whimpered when I talked to him, and told me -he had never meant to be as naughty as father thought. Bless him! I knew -he never did. I told him so. But even then he was just a little reserved -with me, as if he could not quite forgive me for what I had brought upon -him--which was bitter enough at the time, but an agony to think of -afterwards, as it is to this day. So I went away to my room and cried in -the dark, utterly miserable. And I thought to myself, "If this is how -they feel towards me, how will they regard their father, who has treated -them so brutally? Why, they will never have an atom of affection for him -again!" - -But when I went back to them, hoping for a warmer welcome, and anxious -about their poor empty stomachs, there was Tom, sitting on the chair -between their beds, chatting to them, and they to him, as if nothing had -occurred--aye, although Waif had been deposed and banished. Another -chair had been dragged up, and a tray stood on it--a tray piled with -food, duck and sweetbread, cold beef and tongue, all mixed -together--which he was serving out in lavish helpings, with plenty of -bread-and-butter. Harry, leaning on his elbow, rested his head on his -father's arm; Bob, crouched at his knees on the floor, looked up at him -with his dear merry eyes, that bore no malice--not even a reproach. They -did not see me at the door, where I stood a minute to watch them, -suffocated by the sense of being shut out. - -I did not think it was quite right of Tom. But I did not say so. When he -called to me to come in and be apologised to--the boys did it -handsomely, but still rather perfunctorily, I fancied--I was glad to let -bygones be bygones, and to feel we were a united family once more. - -And I thought the incident ended there. Nothing more was said about it -while Tom remained at home, and he went away as usual, giving me--even -me--not the faintest indication of what was in his mind. So that I was -completely dumfoundered when, on his next return, he said, in a -tremulous tone of voice and with quite a tragic air generally: - -"Well, Polly, I've done it." - -"_What?_" I cried, guessing his meaning in an instant, for I remembered -his remark at tea that night when we were all so unhappy. "You _don't_ -mean to say you have thrown up your command--thrown away -everything--just _now_, when we want so badly to increase our income and -not to lessen it--without a word of warning?" - -"No warning?" quoth he. "Why, haven't you been at me every day for the -last dozen years to do it? And quite right too. It's bad for boys to -grow up without a father to look after them, and their welfare is of -more importance than anything else." - -"You say that, and at the same time take away all chance of their having -a decent education and a fair start in the world! How am I to keep them -at the Grammar School, and have a governess for the girls, and support -the house and all, on my poor three hundred a year?" - -I should not have said it, and could have cut my tongue out before the -words were half uttered, but somehow the first news of the shock that we -were to lose half our income, on which we already found it no easy -matter to make ends meet, was overwhelming. And we were so accustomed to -speak freely whatever was in our minds that I never anticipated he would -take a chance remark so ill. I suppose his interview with the owners had -agitated him; as I heard afterwards, the whole office had expressed -regrets at his leaving the service, and said all kinds of nice and -flattering things about him; otherwise I am sure he would not have given -way as he did. He just turned from me, put his arms on the mantelpiece, -and, dropping his head down, gave a sob under his breath. My own good -husband! That ever I should have been the cause--however innocently--of -bringing a tear to his dear eyes, a moment's pang to his faithful heart! - -Of course he forgave me at once--he always does; and in a few minutes we -were talking things over in peace and comfort, while I sat on his -knee--for the children were in school, happily. - -"As for income, Polly, you don't suppose I am going to live on you?" he -said--and a very unkind thing it was to say, as I told him. "You don't -imagine I intend to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs, while you take -the whole burden on your little shoulders--do you?" - -"I don't see why you shouldn't," I replied. "At any rate for a long -while to come. I'm sure if any one ever earned the right to a thorough -rest, you have. And, oh, Tom, no burden can be a burden with you here to -help me!" - -"Thanks, old girl. That's good hearing." - -"As if you wanted to be told that! And by and by, when you have had a -nice long spell, there are sure to be posts offered to you about the -ports----" - -"No, Polly; don't delude yourself with that idea. There are no posts for -a sailor who leaves sea--that is, one or two, perhaps, and a hundred -fellows wanting them. I should be no good at office work, among the -smart hands, and the life would kill me. No, I've a better notion than -that--it's been in my mind a long time, and I've been talking it over -with experts, men who thoroughly understand the matter----" - -"And not with me!" I interposed reproachfully. - -"Well, I didn't see the use of disturbing your mind until one could do -something. But now the time has come." He was quite bright and excited. -"Look here, Polly--listen, dear, till I have explained fully--my idea is -to take a little farm place on the outskirts of Melbourne----" - -"A farm!" I broke in. "Are _you_ one of those who think that farming -comes by instinct and doesn't have to be learned like other trades?" - -"I don't mean that kind of farm, but just a few acres of good land--more -on the edge of the country than in it, you understand--near enough for -the boys to get to the Grammar School by train or on ponies--and breed -pigs----" - -"Oh, pigs!" I echoed, sniffing. - -"Well, if you objected to pigs, there's poultry. With a few incubators -we could rear fowls enough to supply all Melbourne. Or bees. There's a -great trade to be done in honey if you know how to set about it. Bees -feed themselves, and flowers cost nothing--I particularly want us to -live among plenty of flowers--and I could make the boxes myself. But -pigs are the thing, Polly. I've gone into the question thoroughly, and -there's no doubt about it. You see, we should be able to keep -cows--think how splendid to give the children fresh milk from our own -dairy, as much as they can drink!--and we could send the rest to a -factory and get the buttermilk back for the pigs. And vegetables--of -course we'd have a big garden--and they'd eat all the surplus that would -otherwise go to waste, and the fallen fruit, and the refuse from the -kitchen; so that really the cost of feed would be next to nothing. The -pork would be first-class on such a diet, given the right breed to -begin with, and what Melbourne markets couldn't absorb we might ship -frozen to England." - -And so on. - -Well, it was a fascinating picture, and his enthusiasm was contagious. -I, too, thought it would be lovely to live amongst cows and flowers, and -at the same time be making a fortune out of our Arcadian surroundings. -So I went in for the little farm, and all the three classes of -profitable stock--pigs, fowls, bees--in short, everything. What would -have happened to us if Tom had not made a few unexpected thousands by -the purest accident, I don't know. He did a little deal in mining -shares, under the direction of a strangely disinterested friend who was -expert at that business, and so saved us all from ruin. I may add that -it was his sole exploit of the kind. I would not let him gamble any -more--beyond putting an annual pound or two in Tattersall's -Sweeps--because, although he thought he had been very smart, he was as -ignorant as a confiding infant of the ways of money dealers, and never -could have experienced such another stroke of luck. He was easily -persuaded to let well alone, as always to defer to and see the -reasonableness of any wish of mine. - -It was before we had fairly plunged into our messes and muddles--in the -very beginning, when the _couleur de rose_ was over all--when the -dilapidations of our country cottage were all repaired, and everything -in the most beautiful order--when the fields were rich with spring grass -and the scent of wattle-blossom, and the sleek cows had calved, and the -hens were clucking about with thriving families of chicks--when the bee -boxes were still a-making, and the two first pigs only in their smart -new sty--when the children, released from the schoolroom, were -scampering everywhere with their father, who was more of a child than -any of them, and growing fat and rosy on the sweet air and the pure -milk--when we were telling one another all day that we never were so -happy and so well off--it was then that the calamity of our lives -befell us. - -A small creek touched the borders of the two paddocks that we called our -farm, and, like all creeks, was fringed with wild vegetation, bushes and -trees that interposed a romantic screen between its little bed and the -world of prosaic agriculture. It so happened that the children--like -many thousands of native Australians, far older than they--had never -seen the bush. When they had wanted change of air Tom had taken them to -sea; and as he had never had holidays himself, and I had never cared to -go away from home without him, we were nearly in the same case. That -strip of scrub was true bush, as far as it went, and we were delighted -in it. - -We were too busy just then to go thither in daytime, and would not allow -the children to ramble there alone, for fear of snakes--although it was -much too early and too cool for them; besides which, there were -none--but we would take the fascinating walk about sundown in a family -party, and sometimes have our tea there, returning after dark with -strange treasures of leaf and insect, clear pebbles that we made sure -were topazes in the rough, and stones with mica specks in them that we -thought were gold. And once we went there in moonlight--the full moon of -our first October--when it was mild and balmy, and we could easily -imagine ourselves in forests primeval untrodden by a human foot except -our own! How well I remember it--as if it were yesterday!--the enormous -look of the trees in that beautiful, deceptive light, and how we stood -in an ecstatic group under one of them to look up at an oppossum sitting -in the fork of a dead branch. - -Many people think that oppossums, like snakes and laughing jackasses, -are common objects of the country in all its parts; but that is not the -case nowadays with any of the three, and none of our family had beheld -the dear little furry animal, except dead in a museum or torpid in the -Zooelogical Gardens, while it had been one of the great ambitions of our -lives to do so. And here he was, alive, alert, and unmistakable, his -ears sticking up and his bushy tail hanging down, sitting against the -moon, as I had seen roosting pheasants in the woods at home, looking -down at us with the intense interest that an oppossum is able to take in -things at that hour. The excitement was tremendous. The boys literally -danced round and round the tree, and Waif was beside himself; he made -frantic leaps upward, turning somersaults in the rebound, wildly tore at -the bark of the tree and the earth at its roots, and filled the quiet -night with his impassioned yaps and squeaks. He also, to the best of our -belief, had never seen an oppossum before; yet he was as keen as a -foxhound after a fox to get at and destroy it. - -The little animal did not seem to mind. It sat still and gazed at us, as -is the way of an oppossum, even when you have no camp-fire or lantern to -mesmerise and paralyse it; we could almost fancy that we saw its fixed -eyes, large and liquid, in the light of the moon. And suddenly Bobby -ejaculated, from the depths of his heart, "Oh--_oh_--if _only_ I'd got -my gun!" - -We took no notice--never heeded the warning given us--but only laughed -to hear the little chap talking of his gun as if he were an old -sportsman. It was a small single barrel, presented to him on his going -to the country by his godfather, Captain Briggs (much to my dismay at -the time, and the natural chagrin of the elder brother, who should have -been the first to possess one), and Tom had given the child but two -lessons in the use of it--shooting bottles from the top of the paddock -fence. - -Being without a gun, the boys flung aloft such missiles as came to hand, -and, when a stick of wood touched the branch it sat on, the 'possum ran -along it to a place where it was lost in leaves. Then we bethought -ourselves of the late hour, called off Waif, and went home to bed--to -bed, and to sleep as tranquil and unforeboding as the sleep of other -nights. - -The next day was exceptionally full of business. Recreation was not -thought of. It was nine o'clock when we left off work--Tom and I. - -Lily was long in bed, but the other children had no proper hour for -retiring at this unsettled time. I went to the sitting-room to look for -them, and found only Phyllis there. The lamp was not lit, nor the blinds -drawn. I noticed that the moon was up, and by its light saw her crouched -at one of the windows, pressing her face against the glass. I asked her -what she was doing there, and she did not hear me; on my repeating the -question, she sprang up with such a start of fright that I at once -divined mischief somewhere. - -"Where is Harry?" I cried sharply. Somehow it was always Harry, my -handsome first-born, that I expected things to happen to. - -Phyllis stammered and shuffled, and then said that Harry had gone to -look for Bobby. - -"And where is Bobby?" - -She seemed still more reluctant to reply, but suddenly exclaimed, with -an air of joyful relief, "Oh, there he is! There he is! There's Waif--he -can't be far off!" - -She followed me to the verandah, whither I went to meet and reproach my -poor little fellow for having strayed without leave, and there was no -boy visible--only the dear, ugly, faithful dog for whose sake all dogs -are beloved and sacred for ever and ever. Waif ran to my feet, pawed -them and my skirts, squirmed and jumped, yelped and whined, all the time -looking up at me with eyes that were full of desire and -supplication--trying to tell me something that at first I could not -understand. I took a few steps into the garden, and he scampered down a -pathway to the gate; seeing I did not follow so far, he ran back, seized -a bit of my frock in his teeth, and tried to drag me with him. - -"What does he want?" I called to Tom, as he sauntered towards me, pipe -in mouth. "Tom, Tom, _what_ does it mean?" - -"Where's Bob?" was his instant question. - -"Harry has gone after him--Harry is with him--Harry will bring him -home," piped Phyllis, trembling like a leaf. Then she burst into tears. -"Oh, mother--oh, father--I heard the gun such a long, long time ago!" - -The gun! Who would have dreamed of _that?_--locked up in a wardrobe, as -we supposed, and forbidden to be so much as looked at except under -parental supervision. At the word our hearts jumped, and seemed to stop -beating. - -"He wanted to shoot the oppossum and cure the skin for a present to you -on your birthday, mother. And he wanted it to be a secret--for a -surprise to you." - -Waif whined and ran, and we ran after him--Tom in silence, I wailing -under my breath, already in despair and heart broken. I can see the -devoted creature now, pattering steadily over the moonlit paddocks -towards the creek and the trees, stopping every now and then to make -sure that we were coming; and see him tracking through the scrub with -his nose to the ground, and hear his little uneasy whimper when for a -moment he could not perceive us. - -Once we stopped at the sound of a distant whistle, and I shrieked with -joy. - -"No," said Tom gently. "That's Harry calling him." - -And we came to the place where we had seen the oppossum the night -before. The moonbeams trickled through the branches from which it had -looked down upon our happy, united family, and just where we had stood -together there was a dark something on the ground. Waif ran up to it and -licked it---- - - * * * * * - -I can't write any more. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -A LITTLE MISUNDERSTANDING. - - -It was years, literally, before I got over it. Indeed, I have never got -over it--never shall, while I have any power to remember things. -Death--we all know, more or less, what it means to the living whom it -has robbed. To lose a child--the mothers know, at any rate! It is no use -talking about it. Besides, there are no words to talk with that can -possibly explain. - -I often hear the remark that my husband has the most patient temper in -the world, and I realise its truth when I think of that dreadful -time--how I must have wearied and discouraged him, and how he never once -reproached me for it, even by a glum look. He knew I could not help it. -For one thing, I was ill--physically ill, with the doctor coming to see -me. He ordered me tonics, stimulants, a complete change of scene, and so -on, but no doctor's prescriptions were any good for my complaint. -Winding a watch with a broken mainspring won't make it go. Tonics gave -me headaches--tonics accompanied by constant tears and -sleeplessness--and, hideous as the house was, with an empty place -staring at me from every point to which I could turn my eyes, I knew it -would be worse elsewhere. I clung to my own bed, my own privacy, my home -where I could do as I liked and shut out the foolish would-be -sympathisers and their futile condolences; and I could not bear to leave -the other children. Once you have lost a child, you never again feel any -confidence that the rest are safe; you seem to _know_ they are going to -die if they but catch a cold or scratch a finger, and that they will -have no chance at all if you let them out of your sight. Besides, there -were things to see to--the poultry, for instance, which was under my -charge--if only I could have seen to them! I tried, but sorrow made me -stupid; and when the incubator was found stone-cold, and again -overheated, and on one occasion burnt to ashes with dozens of poor -chicks inside, and when dozens more were drowned in a storm for want of -timely shelter--all fine, thriving birds, when, you couldn't get a -decent turkey in Melbourne for under a pound--I suppose it was my fault. -But Tom always said, "Never mind--don't you worry yourself, Polly," and -his first thought was to get me a glass of wine. He was like an old -nurse in the way he cosseted and coddled me. When I was more ill than -usual, he thought nothing of sitting up all night by my bedside, and -making little messes for me in the kitchen with his own hands. He never -even said, as I have heard men say at the first starting of tears--not -after they have been flowing, like mine, for weeks and weeks--"Why don't -you make an effort to control yourself? You know perfectly well that -crying only makes you worse and does nobody any good"--as if a poor -mother cried from choice and perversity and the pleasure of doing it, -when her heart was broken! He knew my heart was broken. He understood. -No one else understood. They all thought I could control myself if I -liked. Some of them said so, and told one another, I am sure, though I -did not hear them, that it was the calm and composed ones who felt the -most. That is the theory of books and cold-hearted people; I don't -believe in it for a moment. Whenever I see a woman bearing up, as they -call it, without showing ravages in some way or other, I know what -supports her--not more courage, but a harder nature than mine. A man is -different. Tom mourned for our little son with all his heart, though he -did not show it; and he did not show it because he is so unselfish. He -thought of me before himself, and would not add a straw to my burden. -Never was a tenderer husband in this world! I believe those women -thought him foolish and weak-minded to indulge me as he did, but that -was envy, naturally; they did not know, poor things, what it was to have -such a staff to lean on. - -However, one day, when I was showing him how thin I had grown, taking up -handfuls of "slack" in a bodice that had been once tight for me, he -began to look--not impatient or aggrieved, but determined--as he used to -look on board ship when the law was in his own hands. - -"Polly," he said, "this has gone on long enough. I'm not going to stand -by and see you die by inches before my eyes. Something must be done. I -shall take you to sea." - -"To sea!" I exclaimed. "We can't leave the children. We can't leave the -farm. We can't afford----" - -"I don't care," he broke in. "I'm not going to lose you, if I can help -it, for anybody or anything. You're just ready to fall into a rapid -decline, or to catch some fatal epidemic or other, and I can't have it, -Polly; it must be put a stop to before it is too late. The sea's the -thing. The sea's what you want. Come to that, it's what I want myself; -I've got quite flabby from being away from it so long. It would brace us -up, both of us, and nothing else will. You pack a few clothes, pet, and -I'll go into Melbourne and look up a nice boat. Don't you bother your -head about the farm or the children or anything--I'll see that they're -left all safe." - -He was so firm about it that I had to give in. The sea, of course, was -not like any other change of air and change of scene--it did seem to -promise refreshment and renovation, peace even greater than that of my -home, where I still suffered from the mistaken kindness of neighbours -coming to expostulate with and to cheer me. Besides, when Tom said he -had got flabby for want of it, I noticed that he was not looking well. -There could be no doubt about the proposed trip being beneficial to -him--I must have urged him to take it for his own health's sake--and I -could not be left without him. So I mustered a little energy to begin -preparations while he went to town; for though I had begged for time to -think the matter over, he would not hear of delay. I never knew him so -resolute, even with a crew. - -At night he brought back a brighter face than had been seen in our house -for many a long day. I was sitting up for him, and even I had stirrings -in my heavy heart of a reviving interest in life. All day I had been -thinking of our old voyage in the Racer--remembering the beautiful parts -of it, forgetting all the rest. - -"Well, Polly," said he; "did you wonder what was keeping me so late? The -old man"--he meant the head of his old firm--"insisted on my dining with -him, and I couldn't well refuse. Talked about everything as frank and -free as if I'd been his brother--all the business of the old shop--and -said they'd give a hundred pounds to have me back again. By Jove, if it -wasn't for you and the children--no, no, I don't mean that; we're -happiest as we are--or will be when you are well and heartened up a bit. -What do you think, Polly? I'm to take the old Bendigo her next trip. -Watson hasn't had a spell for years, and there's a new baby at his -place; I saw Watson first--he put me up to it--but the old man was -ready to do anything I liked to ask him. 'Certainly,' says he; 'by all -means, and whenever you choose. And bring the missus, of course--only -too proud to have her company on any ship she fancies.' You know he -always thought a deal of you, Polly; I declare he was quite affectionate -in his inquiries after you--never thought he could be so kind and jolly. -I could have got free passages for both of us easy enough, but it's -pleasanter to work for them; and I don't think, somehow, that I could -feel at home in the old Bendigo anywhere but on the bridge." - -"And I should not like to see you anywhere else," I said; "not if we -paid full fares twice over. And how nice not to have to pay, when the -farm is keeping us so short! How nice an arrangement altogether! I can -be upstairs with you--the old man would wish me to do whatever I -liked--and have more liberty than would be possible if another was in -command, and so can you. It's a charming plan! And the Bendigo, -too--our own old Bendigo! Oh, Tom, do you remember _that night!_" - -It was some years since he had left the boat on board of which he had -been introduced to his eldest son; but whenever we recalled the time -that he was captain of her our first thoughts pictured the moonlit -bridge and the baby; at any rate mine did. And in my terribly deepened -sense of the significance of motherhood nothing could have suited me -better than to go back to the dear place where my mother-life began, for -it did not properly begin until Tom shared it with me. I would sooner -have chosen the Bendigo to have a trip in--if I had the choice--than the -finest yacht or liner going. - -So we went to bed almost happy. And two days later, having been quite -brisk in the interval, safeguarding our home and children as completely -as it could be done, we walked down the familiar wharf, amongst the -bales and cases, to where the steamer lay, feeling exhilarated by the -thought of our coming holiday, as if old times were back again. It was -on the verge of winter now and an exquisite afternoon. Even the filthy -Yarra looked silky and shimmering in the mild sunlight, tinted rose and -mauve by the city smoke; and the vile smells were kept down by the clean -sharpness of the air, so that I did not notice them. We were to sail at -five, but went on board early so that Tom could gather the reins into -his hand and have all shipshape before passengers arrived. - -How pleasant it was to see the way they welcomed him! Mr. Jones was -first officer now (and had babies of his own), and some of the old faces -were amongst the crew. The head steward was the same, and the head -engineer, and the black cook who made pastry so well; and they all -smiled from ear to ear at the sight of their old master, making it quite -evident to me that they had found poor Watson, as they would have found -any one else, an indifferent substitute for him. Above all, there was -the "old man," as he was irreverently styled--the important chief -owner--in person, down on purpose to receive me, with a bouquet for me -in his hand. Dear, kind old man! He was something like Captain Saunders -in his extreme admiration and respect for "pretty Mrs. Braye," as I was -told they called me, and nothing could have been friendlier than his few -words of sympathy for my trouble and his real anxiety to make me -comfortable on board. One might have imagined I was an owner myself by -the fuss they all made over me. It always gratified me--on Tom's -account--that I was never put on a level with the other captains' wives. - -I had the deck cabin again, and we went there for afternoon tea. The -steward brought cakes and tarts and all sorts of unusual things, to do -honour to the special occasion; and I put my flowers in water, wearing a -few of them, and it was all very nice and cheerful. I felt better -already, although we had not stirred from the wharf, and although a New -Zealand boat close by us was turning in the stream, stirring up the dead -cats and things with her propeller, and making a stench so powerful that -it was like pepper to the nose. - -Then, as five o'clock drew near, the "old man" went to look after -business about the ship, and Tom to put on his uniform. How splendid he -looked in it! Almost the only regret I had for his leaving the sea was -that he could no longer wear the clothes which so well became him. Talk -about the fascination of a red coat! I never could see anything in it. -But a sailor in his peaked cap and brass buttons is the finest figure in -the world. - -I was just going to meet him and tell him how nice he looked, when one -of the lady passengers who had been coming on board, and whom I had been -manoeuvring to avoid, cut across my bows, so to speak, and rushed at him -like a whirlwind. I really thought the woman was going to throw her arms -round his neck. - -"Oh, Captain Braye!" she exclaimed loudly, "how too, too charming to see -you here again. Have you come back to the Bendigo for good? Oh, how I -hope you have! Do you know, I was going to Sydney by the mail, and was -actually on my way to the P.&O. office, when somebody told me you were -taking Captain Watson's place. I said at once, 'Then no mail steamers -for me, thank you. No other captain for me if I can get Captain Braye.' -And so here I am. I managed to get packed up in a day and a half." - -I could see that Tom looked quite confused. We had both hoped so much -that the people would all be strangers who would leave us alone, and he -guessed the annoyance I should feel at the threatened curtailment of our -independence by this forward person. But there was no need for him to -inveigle her out of earshot, and there stand and talk to her for ever so -long, as if there were secrets between them not for me to overhear. I -know what she wanted--I heard her ask for it--whether she could have the -deck cabin as before! A very few seconds should have sufficed to answer -_that_ question. She was a stylish person in her way, and her clothes -were good, and the servants paid court to her; I asked one of them who -she was, and he said the "lady" of a merchant of some standing in -Melbourne--just the class of passenger we were most anxious to be -without. When their confabulation was at an end Tom brought her to the -bench where I was sitting and introduced her to me. - -"My wife, Mrs. Harris--Mrs. Harris, dear--who has sailed with me -before." - -"Often," said Mrs. Harris, extending a bejewelled hand. "We are very old -friends, the captain and I." - -"Indeed?" I said, bowing. He had never mentioned her name to me. But, as -he explained when I told him so, he couldn't be expected to remember the -names of the thousands of strangers he carried in the course of the -year. I reminded him that she considered herself not a stranger, but a -friend; and he said, with a laugh, "Oh, they all do that." - -I confess I did not take to Mrs. Harris. I should not have liked any one -coming in our way as she did, when we wanted to be free and peaceful, -but she was particularly repugnant to me. She gushed too much; she -talked too familiarly of Tom--to me also, not discriminating between -one captain's wife and another; and she accosted the servants and -officers as they passed quite as if the ship belonged to her. However, I -stood it as long as she chose to sit there, making herself pleasant, as -she doubtless supposed. As soon as it occurred to her to go and look at -her cabin I seized my hood and cloak, and went to seek sanctuary on the -bridge with Tom. It was nearly six o'clock, and he was just casting off. - -"Oh, Polly," he said, turning to me with a slightly worried air, "you -wouldn't mind staying on deck till we get down the river a bit, would -you, pet? It don't look professional, you know, for ladies to show up -here. And Mrs. Harris might----" - -I interrupted him in what he was going to say, because anything to do -with Mrs. Harris had nothing whatever to do with the case. - -"Passengers," said I, "are one thing--the captain's wife is -another--_quite_ another--and especially when the old man has asked me, -as a sort of favour to himself, to make myself at home, as he calls it. -Is he on the wharf, by the way? I should like to wave a hand to him. It -would please him awfully. Thank Heaven, we are not subject to Mrs. -Harris, nor to anybody else, on board this, ship. That's the beauty of -it." - -"I feel in a sense subject to Watson," said Tom, "and he's a punctilious -sort of chap. I don't care to seem to make too free with his -command--for it's his, not mine. And there are heaps of people about -besides the old man. You really would oblige me very much, Polly----" - -"Oh, of course, dear!" - -I saw his point of view, and at once effaced myself. I went into the -little bridge house, just behind the wheel--he was satisfied with -that--where I could see him close to me through the bow window, and -speak to him when I chose. He lit the candle lamp at the head of the -bunk, so that I could lie there and read; but I did not want to read. I -preferred to stand by the window, which held all there was of table--the -top of drawers and lockers--on which I spread my arms, propping my face -in hollowed palms, and to look out upon the river with the sunset upon -it, and the fading daylight, and the starry lights ashore. To call that -city-skirting stream romantic is to provoke the derision of those who -know it best, but it _was_ romantic that night--to me. Anything can be -romantic under certain circumstances, in certain states of atmosphere -and mind. - -We were alone together. The dinner-bell rang downstairs, but Tom never -left the bridge till he was out of the river, and I did not need to ask -him to let me share his meal. The steward brought us up a tray, and we -stood in the warm little cabin--the table was not made to sit at--and -ate roast chicken and apple pie, like travellers at a railway buffet, -Tom stepping out and back between hasty mouthfuls to see that all was -right. He was intensely business-like, and as happy as a boy at his old -work. We both had the young feeling that comes to holiday-makers who -don't have a holiday very often. I could not help it. - -Then--when we steamed out between the river lights into the bay--how we -sniffed the first breath of the salt sea! And what memories it brought -to us!--to me, at least, who had been so long away from it. The -passengers were at dinner still, and it was falling dark, and there were -no spectators save the man at the wheel, who was nothing but a voice, an -echo of the quiet word of command, most pleasant to hear; I was free to -roam the bridge from end to end, hanging to my husband's supporting -arm--to bathe myself in air that was literally new life to both of us. -Cold and clean and briny to the lips--oh, what is there to equal it in -the way of medicine for soul and body? What sort of insensate creatures -can they be who do not love the sea? - -Hobson's Bay was ruffled with a south wind--belted round with twinkling -lights that grew thicker and brighter every moment, a gleaming ring of -stars set in the otherwise invisible shores, in a dusk as soft as -velvet. Somewhere amongst them, doubtless, was the lighted window that -had once been mine, where I used to stand half a dozen lamps and candles -in a bunch, to show Tom that I was watching for him when he used to pass -out after nightfall. Our eyes turned in that direction simultaneously. - -"When we are old folks, Polly," said he, with an arm round my shoulder, -"when the kids are all grown up and out in the world, and you and I -settle down alone again, as we did at the beginning, I should like us to -have a little place somewhere where we could see blue water and the -ships going by." - -"Yes," I said at once, feeling exactly as he did--that though the farm -and our country home were well enough under present circumstances, they -would not be our choice when we had only ourselves to think of--that the -sea was the sea, in short, and had reclaimed our allegiance--"yes, that -is what we will do. We will end our married life where we began it--with -this beautiful sound in our ears!" - -We had turned the breakwater at Williamstown, and were meeting the wind -and tide of the outer bay, which was a little ocean this fresh night. -The sharp bows of the Bendigo, and her threshing screw astern, made that -noise of racing waves and running foam which was thrilling me like music -and champagne together, so that I had no words to describe the -sensation. My hair was blown hard back from my forehead and out of the -control of hairpins; my face felt as if smacked by an open hand, and I -had to screw up my eyes and pinch my lips together to stand the blow; I -felt the keen blast pierce to my skin through all the invalid wrappings -that I was swathed in--and it was lovely! Tom thought I should catch -cold, but I knew better, though I was glad to be tied into his 'possum -rug, with an oilskin overall to take the flying spray; and I insisted on -staying out with him till nearly midnight--till we had passed the -furious Rip and were battling with the real swell of the real ocean, -which tossed the steamer like a cork without making me seasick. It was -squally and galey and dark as a wolf's mouth--neither moon nor -stars--only the lighthouse lights which were all we needed, and the -white streaks in the black sea which were the long rollers coming to -meet us. And I felt as safe as--there is nothing that can give a notion -of how safe I felt. My husband took care of me as he used to do on the -Racer, only fifty thousand times more carefully, because he was my -husband. Ah, how sweet it was! With all our sorrows, how happy we were! -And might have remained so if we had not been interfered with. - -But that wretched woman spoiled it all. I had forgotten her altogether -during the evening, when dinner and darkness and the rough weather kept -her from us; I forgot her in the night, which I spent in my deck cabin -so as to leave Tom his bunk on the bridge for such snatches of sleep as -he had a mind for; the deck as well as the cabin was my own--his and -mine, for he still came down at intervals to look at me through the open -door and assure himself that I was all right--and the common herd were -under it. But when I emerged in the morning, just as the breakfast-bell -was ringing, the first thing I saw was Mrs. Harris coming down the -stairs which had "no admittance" plainly affixed to them, and Tom in -attendance on her as if she were the Queen. She descended backwards, -feeling each step with her glittering pointed shoe, slower than any -tortoise, and he guided her with one hand and held her skirts down with -the other, out of the wind. It was a windy morning, but sunshiny and -beautiful, and I had intended to enjoy my first meal in the air and in -privacy with my husband, as I had done the last. - -I suppose I looked my surprise, for they both seemed to colour up when -they perceived me standing and watching them. In one breath they bade me -a loud good morning, and made unnecessary announcements about the -weather. - -"You have been on the bridge?" I questioned, with my eyes fixed on the -brass plate which proclaimed the bridge sacred. - -"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Harris gaily. "It's the nicest place I know to be -on, especially at this time of day. Many an early visit have I paid the -captain up there, haven't I, Captain?" - -I lifted eyebrows at Tom, but he would not look. - -"Got an appetite for breakfast, Polly?" he shouted, taking my arm. "Come -along, and let's see if you don't do your doctor credit." - -"I am not going to the saloon," I returned quietly, disengaging myself; -"I am going to have my breakfast on the bridge with you." - -"But I'm not going to breakfast there. I'm off duty, and we may as well -be comfortable when we can." - -Then he congratulated us both on being such good sailors as to be able -to go to breakfast the first morning, and, not to make a fuss, I let him -take me down into the saloon, and seat me at the public table by his -side, _vis-a-vis_ with Mrs. Harris. He spoke to other passengers, -shaking hands with some, and introducing me to one or two. A rather -nice man talked to me throughout the meal, while Mrs. Harris monopolised -Tom entirely. - -This was not what I had come to sea for, and so, as soon as I had -finished, I slipped away, ran up to the bridge, got out a little chair, -and prepared for a quiet morning with my husband, where no one had the -right to disturb us. In fact, I was fully resolved to defend that -bridge, if need were, against unauthorized intruders. Mrs. Harris might -have done what she liked with it and him in those old times that she was -for ever flinging in my face. She would not do it now. - -Scarcely had I opened my workbag and threaded my needle when up she came -as bold as brass, with a yellow-back under her arm. It was too much. I -felt that, if I were to make any stand at all, it must be now or never, -or I should be altogether trodden under foot. So I looked at her with an -air of calm inquiry, and said, "Oh! Mrs. Harris--do you want anything?" - -"No, thanks," she replied in an off-hand tone. "The steward is bringing -up my chair." - -"Bringing it _up?--here?_" - -"Certainly. Why not?" - -"Only that--perhaps you don't know--nobody is allowed on the bridge. The -notice is stuck up against the stairs." - -"Then why are you here?" she retorted, bristling. - -"I am the captain's wife." - -"I presume the captain's wife is as much a passenger as the rest of us," -she argued, with an offensive laugh. "I presume the captain can do what -he likes with his own bridge, at any rate. If _he_ gives one the freedom -of the city, one certainly has it, beyond question; and I have always -been accustomed to sit here when travelling with him. Thank you, -steward--in this corner, please." - -She took possession of her chair. - -"If one person has the freedom of the city," I said, trying to keep my -voice from shaking, "all should have it. He has no business to make -distinctions where all are equal." - -"All are not equal," she cried, reddening. And I remembered that she was -a considerable person in her own eyes. But I said firmly, "Pardon me. -All who pay the same fares are on the same footing--or should be. And -there is not room here for everybody." - -"The captain," said she, "can entertain his friends as he chooses, and I -am one of his oldest friends, besides being related to his owners. And -as for his having no business to do this or that--oh, my dear Mrs. -Braye, do allow the poor man to know his own business best--I assure you -he knows it perfectly, nobody better--and let him be master, at any -rate, on his ship, whatever he may be in his home." - -She laughed again, as she settled herself and opened her book. I was -simply speechless with indignation. But, even had I been able to speak, -I was not one to bandy words with that sort of person. I just rolled up -my work, quietly rose, and went downstairs to my cabin on deck. - -"Why do you go away?" she asked, as I passed her. "Isn't the bridge big -enough for us both?" - -"No," I replied. And that was my last word to her. - -Going down the stairs, I met Tom coming up. He said, "Hullo, Polly, -where are you off to?" I looked at him steadily--that's all. And his -face clouded over. He passed on, leaving me alone. - -But they were not long together. Five minutes later I heard her voice -suddenly through the open port of my cabin--that horrible deck cabin, -where I was surrounded and pressed upon by talking, boot-clumping -passengers, who just could not spy in upon me because I had door shut -and window curtain down. Doubtless she did it on purpose. She must have -known where I was, seeing that I was not on the bridge or sitting out on -deck. She was speaking to some man of her acquaintance. - -"It is always a mistake," she said, "for captains to have their wives on -board. I wonder the owners allow it. It spoils the comfort of the other -passengers--who, after all, are the chief persons to be considered--and -demoralises the poor fellows to such an extent that they are not like -the same men. Look at Captain Braye, whom I've known for ages--the -dearest old boy you can imagine when he's let alone--it's pitiful to see -him henpecked and cowed, and afraid to call his soul his own, shaking in -his very shoes before that vixen of a woman!" Her companion said -something that I could not hear--I believe it was my pleasant neighbour -at breakfast whom she was trying to set against me--and then she put on -the crowning touch. "It is always the fate of those exceptionally nice -men," said she, "to marry women who don't know how to appreciate them." - -I wondered for a moment if I could have heard aright. It was hard to -believe in such consummate insolence--such a wild, malignant, perversion -of facts. To talk of _Tom_ as a henpecked husband! To dub _me_, of all -people in the world, a vixen!! To say that I--_I_--did not appreciate -him!!! The thing was too utterly ludicrous to be taken seriously, and -yet it made me so angry that I could hardly contain myself. It made me -feel that it would have been a pleasure to rush out upon her and tear -her hair from her head, just like the real vixens do. I felt that my -husband, who was also the commander of the ship, ought to have spared me -this gross indignity, which could not have occurred if he had respected -his position, and kept himself to himself. - -Knowing that she was not with him now, I went back to the bridge. But -alas and alas! The bridge, that had been a little paradise, was a place -despoiled. Though the serpent had gone out of it, she had been there and -poisoned everything. Tom was not the same to me. All the pleasure of our -trip was at an end. I had a wretched day, and at night a gale came on, -and I was seasick for the first time. He did not know it, and I would -not send for him. Oh, it was horrible! It was tragical! It was -heart-breaking! I can't talk about it any more. - - * * * * * - -People came to meet her at Sydney, but she could not leave without a -ceremonious good-bye to her dear captain. She was calling for him -everywhere while he was busy making fast, and when she got him she shook -hands two or three times over, standing apart with him as at first, -regardless of me. Goodness knows I did not want to intrude, yet it was -impossible to help noticing the fuss she made. I heard her say--I am -quite _sure_ I heard her--that she was coming back with us; meaning, of -course, with him. She explained that she had but a day's business to do -in Sydney, and would then be able to return by the "dear old Bendigo"--I -distinctly caught those three words, in her high-pitched voice. And I -thought to myself that this would really be more than I could -stand--more than I could in reason be expected to stand. In fact, I was -so enraged that I was strongly tempted to put it to my husband that he -must make his choice between her and me. However, on second thoughts, I -perceived that it would be more dignified to say nothing, but to let my -acts speak for me. We had never been accustomed to bicker between -ourselves, he and I, and to a certain extent he was not responsible for -the situation. Any one not suffering from madness or an infectious -disease had the right to travel in the ship; he could not help it. But -if he could not turn the otherwise objectionable person off, he could -keep him or her in the passengers' proper place. My grievance with him -was that he did not keep that woman in her place. - -Being quite determined not to have another voyage with her, and not -wishing to say nasty things to him about it, I was glad when an old -acquaintance, paying us a call on board, asked me to stay awhile with -her, for the further benefit of my health, representing that the time -covered by the sea trip was all too short to recruit in. - -"Thank you very much," I answered, on the spur of the moment. "I really -think I will. I was never in Sydney but once, and then I had no chance -to see the beauties of the place, of which I have heard so much; and I -daresay it would do me good to have a longer change." - -I was aware of Tom's utter, silent astonishment, but I would not look at -him; I left him to read the riddle for himself. When he spoke it was to -quietly fall in with the proposal, adding suggestions that would have -made it difficult for me to draw back if I had wanted to do so. He was -so ready to leave me, indeed, that I fancied he _wanted_ to get rid of -me--of course he did not, but any one would have thought so--and -naturally that made me bitter. I spoke but little to him afterwards, and -he was certainly cold to me---he seemed to divine my suspicions and to -resent them--and I did not go to see him off; I could not. In short, our -holiday was entirely and irreparably ruined. - -I believe I cried nearly the whole time that I was in Sydney. It did -seem hard, in my state of health and under the sad circumstances, to be -stranded amongst strangers, who did not understand my sorrows, nor my -habits of life, and gave me none of the little pettings and coddlings -that I needed and was accustomed to; and the thought of that woman going -home with Tom, having the deck cabin, sitting on the bridge with him of -nights, making free with the whole ship, usurping my place and -privileges, drove me simply frantic--until one day I met her in the -street, and found she had not gone with him after all. - -Shaken all to pieces with the awful overland journey, more dead than -alive, I reached home a day or two after him, and discovered him calmly -digging the garden, as if he had forgotten my very existence. When he -saw me he smiled in an odd, constrained way, and said, as though it -didn't matter one way or the other: "Well, Polly? Had about enough of -it?" - -Angry as I was with him, I could not maintain any dignity at all--I was -too spent and weary. I broke down completely, and he took me into the -tool-shed to comfort me--took me into his arms, where I had simply ached -to be ever since I had left them, driven out by that detestable little -scheming, mischief-making snake-in-the-grass. - -"Oh," I sobbed, when I could find words and strength to utter them, "how -_could_ you leave me behind? How _could_ you abandon me like that, when -I was so ill and unhappy?" - -"Because," said he, "you wanted to be left. You distinctly asked and -were determined to be left. As for abandoning--it's I that was -abandoned, it seems to me." - -"You _knew_ I did not want to be left," I urged--for of course he knew. -"You must have seen that I only did it because I was vexed." - -"And what were you vexed about?" he inquired. "I must be too dense and -stupid for anything, but I'll be shot if I can understand you this time, -Polly." - -I told him that he was dense and stupid indeed, or he would not need to -ask the question. But when I told him, further, what it was that had -vexed me, he said that in some ways, when it came to denseness and -stupidity, he was not a patch on me. - -Of course it was not his fault in the very least. It was all hers. - - * * * * * - -P.S.--I have forgiven her now. Poor thing, it was only a manner with -her; she meant no harm. I did not see it then--no one could have seen -it, and I do not blame myself for being imposed on by appearances that -would have deceived a very angel, which I confess I am not, though the -least suspicious and uncharitable of women--but I became convinced of it -afterwards. - -It was when my Harry was made _dux_ of his school, a year later than he -would have been but for the favouritism of a master, who deliberately -miscalculated examination marks. Harry, by the way, will not allow that -this was the case, but that is his modesty and his feeling for the -honour of the school; he does not know as much about it as I do. I was -told on the best authority that he ought to have had the position, being -far and away (as I well knew) the cleverest boy, and that a certain -master had a "set" or "down" on him because he had caricatured the -wretch on the blackboard. It was another sixth-form fellow who said he -felt sure the figures must be wrong when he heard the result. - -However, there was no mistake about it this time. I, at any rate, was -sure of it, when I dressed for the Speech Day function, although the -names in the prize list were supposed to be unknown beforehand. Besides, -I had only to look at his face, calmly elated, the eyes twinkling with -suppressed excitement, to see that he had the secret--to be assured that -his merits were to meet their just reward at last. But there were some -mothers who allowed their mother's partiality to run away with them. I -heard of two who, up to the last moment, fully expected _their_ sons to -come out top. And Mrs. Harris was one of these. - -There was some justification for hope on her part, because young Harris -was really a very industrious, plodding fellow, and had always given a -good account of himself. He had not half Harry's brains, of course, but -he had great application and perseverance, and the moral of the hare -and tortoise fable is often exemplified in these cases. Especially when -the hare is such an all-round genius as my boy, a prize-taker for -goal-kicking, the mile handicap and the long jump, as well as for work -in class. Several times I had heard Harry say, with quite a serious air, -that the only one he was afraid of was Harris, and they stuck very close -together through the examinations, as far as the figures were known. So -when she crushed into the seat in front of me, gorgeously dressed and -beaming, nodding to right and left, I saw how it was. She was prepared -for any amount of envious notice and congratulation, quite thinking she -was going to outshine me. I smiled--I could not help it. But I was glad -afterwards that she had not seen me smile. - -I was also glad that Tom had not been able to accompany us this time, -though grieved for the cause--an accident to his foot while -tree-chopping. Our proximity to the maker of so much trouble in the -past, as to which we were still sore and reticent, might have rendered -the situation uncomfortable and altered its development altogether. -Harry had escorted me and his eldest sister--she a perfect dream, though -I say it, in pink cambric and a white muslin hat--and had now left us to -go and sit with his comrades at the back of the hall, whence a deafening -noise arose continuously, most exhilarating to hear. Dear lads! I -screwed my head round to look and laugh at their delightful antics, and -the figure of my fine boy leading all the revelry, until Phyllis's face -showed her sense of the indecorum of the proceeding. Children are so -dreadfully proper where their parents are concerned, and I am always -forgetting that I have to sit up and look dignified if I would have -their approval and respect. - -When the hall was crowded so that not another creature could squeeze -into it, a fresh demonstration heralded the entrance of the headmaster, -hooded and gowned, escorting the distinguished visitors, chief of whom -was the Exalted Personage who had consented to distribute the prizes. -They packed the dais, round the book-piled table; the boys yelled and -thumped the floor with their boot-heels, sung a Latin hymn with all -their might, subsided with difficulty, and allowed the formal -proceedings to begin. I sat in a perfect simmer of joyous excitement and -expectation, fully equal to theirs, and I noticed that Mrs. Harris's -face was flushed and that she kept smiling to herself in a vague way, -restless and fidgety. Poor thing! Her boy was an only son, like mine, -and she was one of those many love-blind mothers who mistake their geese -for swans. I saw quite plainly that she had no suspicion of the truth, -and was sorry for her. Some one ought to have given her a hint. - -The headmaster read his annual report--every paragraph punctuated with -vociferous cheers from the back benches--and the Exalted Personage made -a speech, unnecessarily diffuse. Then there was a shuffling and -whispering and readjustment of the blocks of books on the table, the -E.P. advanced to the front of the dais, the H.M. lined up beside him -with his list, and after a few little preliminaries (the awarding of a -couple of scholarships) the great moment arrived. Although I had known -so certainly what would happen, when it did happen I literally jumped -from my seat. - -"_Dux_ of School--_Henry Thomas Beauchamp Braye._" - -My heart seemed to leap into my throat, I clasped my hands, I suppose I -made some exclamation unconsciously, for Phyllis plucked at my sleeve -and whispered "Hush-sh!" quite fiercely. The child was not grown-up -then, but still thought herself competent to teach me how to behave in -public. She sat herself like any stock or stone, an image of propriety, -as if it was a matter of no concern to her at all that her brother was -set on the highest pinnacle of honour that a schoolboy could reach. - -He came striding up the hall like a young prince, with none of that shy -awkwardness which made the other boys look so clumsy, and his mates -cheered him to the echo as he mounted the platform to receive his load -of prize-books and the congratulations of all the great folks. I never -saw anything prettier than his quiet bows, his modest and yet dignified -bearing, and his kind way with the fellows who crowded up to shake hands -with him when he came down amongst them again, helping him to carry his -trophies and making a regular royal progress of his return to his seat. -I noticed young Harris amongst the first of these, and thought to myself -that a defeated rival who could behave so nicely to the successful one -must have the essential spirit of a gentleman in him. And I found it was -so when I came to know him. - -A little later, when the lesser prizes were being disposed of, and the -interest of the proceedings was not so all-absorbing--as I just sat in -placid ecstasy, thinking of nothing but my own happiness--a movement in -front of me brought his poor mother to my mind. She had ceased to -fidget, and I had forgotten to notice her. Now she rose slowly, in a -fumbling sort of way, remarking to a lady near her that the heat of the -hall was insufferable and was making her faint. It was very hot, and -she looked faint, with all the colour gone from her cheeks and her lips -twitching and trembling; but, oh, _I_ knew what the trouble was! Poor, -stricken soul! She felt just as I should have felt had I been in her -place--just as I had felt a year ago when told that that pig-faced -Middleton boy had ousted Harry--and my heart bled for her. Of course she -pretended not to see me as she passed out--I should have done the same -had our positions been reversed--and must have almost wanted to murder -me, indeed; but--well, mothers have a fellow-feeling at these times, -under all the feelings common to humanity at large. I could not resist -the impulse that came to me. She had no sooner disappeared through the -nearest door, seeking the fresh air for her faintness, than I, defiant -of my daughter's dumb protests, got up and went out after her. - -She was leaning against the grey wall, holding her handkerchief to her -eyes. When she heard me she turned and glared, like a strange cat that -you have penned into a corner. The next moment we were in each other's -arms, and she was sobbing on my neck with the abandonment of a child. - -And we have been the greatest friends ever since. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -DEPOSED. - - -The little sound that is as common as silence--a familiar step, a -murmured word, an opening door--one hears it a thousand times with -contented indifference, as one hears the singing of the tea-kettle. But -one day it falls on the heart as well as on the ear, like the stroke of -a swift sword. It seems exactly the same, but one knows at once that it -is not the same. In the twentieth part of a second one recognises the -voice of a dire calamity--especially if one is a mother, and has heard -it before. - -Tom came into the house by way of the kitchen, and I heard him say to -Jane, in quite a quiet tone, "Where's Mrs. Braye?" That was all. I -sprang from my chair, wild with terror, dropping my needlework to the -floor. For I knew--I knew--I didn't want to be told--that something had -happened to Harry. My boy! my boy! I had been scolding him, only an hour -ago, for making love to Lily's governess--a minx, whom I had just -requested to find another situation--and he had slammed the door almost -in my face on leaving me. I had been longing for Tom to come in, that I -might tell him all about it, and have a little cry on his shoulder, and -my dignity and authority in the house supported; but now that he was -here my tongue was paralysed. And I had no grievance, but an -immeasurable remorse. - -"Don't be frightened," said my husband, trembling, in a would-be -off-hand voice, "it's nothing very serious--just a bad shaking--I told -him that new mare of his wasn't to be trusted, and there was a nasty -stone just where she threw him. He's stunned a bit, that's all--no bones -broken. I have sent for the doctor. Now look here, Polly----" - -He opened his arms across the doorway, but I broke through them -furiously. Did he remember the night when little Bobby shot himself, -trying to get an opossum skin for his mother's birthday? I was not kept -back then. We ran together, hand in hand, to meet our common woe, and I -was first at the spot, and it was on my breast that he lay to breathe -his last. Why not now, when a worse thing had befallen me? No, I don't -mean that; nothing could be worse--except that every year your child is -with you adds innumerable fresh strands to the rope of woven -heart-strings already binding you to him, and thus makes more to bleed -and ache when the wrench comes. And Harry was -twenty-three--twenty-three, and over six feet, and the handsomest young -fellow in the whole country! I flew full speed to find him, and see what -they were doing to him. It was my mother's right, which a dozen fathers -should not deprive me of. - -At the garden gate I met the procession coming in. They carried him -carefully on a mattress, over saplings roped together. A little rabble -of people followed, one of them leading the fiend that had done the -mischief, a vicious, half-broken, buck-jumping brute that had worried us -for a long time, although Harry always trusted his own fine horsemanship -to get the better of her tantrums. And rightly, too. If he had not been -in a bad temper, poor darling, and doubtless running risks for the -perverse satisfaction of doing so, because of the mood he was in, -nothing in the shape of a horse could have thrown him. He was -notoriously the best rider of the day--at any rate, of our -neighbourhood. - -I slammed the gate to shut out everybody, and the bearers lowered his -litter, and I bent over him. He did not know me. When I leaned down to -listen if he breathed, I saw a little bubble of blood oozing from his -mouth; then I knew that he was more than stunned--that it was worse even -than broken bones. I left off crying, and became quite calm. I had to. - -We were sliding him from the mattress to his bed when Dr. Juke arrived, -and he made us stop and let him do it; for, though my poor lad seemed -unconscious, he panted and grunted in a way that showed we were hurting -him, with all our care. The doctor felt and lifted his limbs, and said -they were all right, and then undressed him as he lay; I got my large -cutting-out scissors, and we hacked his good clothes to pieces--but that -didn't matter--until we left him only his shirt and woollen singlet, and -even those we cut. And just as we were finishing making him comfortable, -as we hoped, he came to and looked at us. My precious boy! His breathing -was short and fluttery, and he seemed too full of pain to speak, except -in gasps. - -"Oh, my side! my side!" - -He wailed like a child--a sound to drive a mother mad. - -Dr. Juke said, "Ah, I thought so." And, having made a little -examination, he reported a fracture of the ribs, with some injury to the -lung. He whispered something to Tom, and then told me I had better send -for a trained nurse, and said it would be as well to get a good surgeon -from town also, so as to be on the safe side. - -I was willing enough to send for a dozen surgeons--though I had perfect -faith in Juke, who was a clever young man, newly out from home and up to -date, an enthusiast in his profession--but I could not bear the thought -of a professional nurse. I knew those women--how they take possession of -your nearest and dearest, and treat even an old mother as if she were a -mere outsider and an utter ignoramus. I protested that I could do all -that was necessary--that no one could possibly take the care of him that -I should. Was it likely? - -"But he will probably want nursing all day and all night for weeks," -said Dr. Juke. "You could not do that unaided. You would break down, and -then where would he be?" - -"I will telegraph for my daughter," I rejoined. Phyllis was away at the -time, visiting. - -"Miss Braye is too young and inexperienced," he objected, with the airs -of a grandfather. "It would not be fair to her. She is better where she -is, out of all the trouble. However, there is no need to decide -immediately. We'll see the night through first. All we can do for the -present is to make him as easy as possible and watch symptoms. The -_most_ important thing is not to meddle with him." - -This seemed a hard saying, and at first I could not credit it. It was -terrible to see nothing done, when he evidently suffered so--more and -more as the first shock passed and the dreadful fever rose and rose; but -while the lung was letting blood and air into the cavity of the chest, -which could not be reached to stop the leak, handling of any sort only -aggravated the mischief. The doctor explained this to me when I was -impatient, and I had to own that he was probably right. He asked me to -see about drinks and nourishment, and when I left the room to do so I -had a mind to seize the opportunity for a few frantic tears in private, -impelled by the pent-up anguish I could not otherwise relieve. - -But outside the door--Harry's door--I came upon Miss Blount. The little -fool was crying herself--as if it were any concern of hers!--and looked -a perfect sight with her swelled nose and sodden cheeks. Somehow I -couldn't stand it, on the top of all the rest--I just took her by the -arm and marched her back to the schoolroom. I hope I was not rough or -unkind--I really don't think I was--but to see her you would have -thought she was a ridiculous little martyr being led to the stake. I -said to her--quite quietly, without making any fuss--"My dear, while you -remain in this house--until the notice I have been compelled by our -contract to give you has expired--oblige me by keeping in your proper -place and confining your attention to your proper business." - -Just as if I had not spoken--and I am sure she never heard a word--she -turned on me at the schoolroom door and clutched at my dress. With both -hands she held on to me, so that I really could not get away from her. - -"Oh, tell me, tell me," she cried, with a lackadaisical whine, as if we -were playing melodrama at a cheap theatre, "_What_ does the doctor say? -Is he, oh, _is_ he going to die?" - -I replied--cuttingly, I am afraid--that the doctor seemed perfectly -well. There was no sign of dying, that I could see, about him. - -Then she said "Harry!" Yes, to my very face! As if she had a right to -call my son by his christian name. I was greatly exasperated; any mother -would have been--especially after what had happened. - -I answered, "_Mr_. Harry _is_ going to die--_thanks to you_, Miss -Blount." - -I truly believed that he was, and I honestly thought that it was her -doing; because if she had not misconducted herself, and tempted him to -do so, I should not have had to scold him, and he would not have gone -out in a rage, to ride a young horse recklessly. Still, it has occurred -to me since that perhaps I was not quite just to her, poor thing. - -Oh, what a night that was! Temperature 103 degrees, and a short, -agonising cough catching the hurt side, which he was obliged to lie on, -because the other lung had to do the work of both. We padded him with -the softest pillows in the house, and tried ice, and -sedatives--everything we could think of; but we could not soothe the -struggling chest, which was the only way to stop the inward bleeding. -And he kept up a sort of grinding moan, like a long "u" in French--worse -than shrieks. It was too, too cruel! I wonder my hair did not turn -white. - -Next day we got the surgeon from town; the day after, the nurse. But I -came to an understanding with her before she set foot in Harry's room. I -bade her remember that he was my son, and that a mother could not -consent to be superseded. She asked if she were to be allowed to carry -out the doctor's orders, and when I said "Yes, of course," she seemed -satisfied. She was a good creature. After all, I don't know what we -should have done without her. There is a limit to one's strength, and -though Phyllis was a great help outside the sick-room, we did not think -it right--Dr. Juke did not think it right--to let her be much in it. - -She came home as soon as she heard what had happened, in spite of his -advice. I went downstairs one day, and found her sitting in the deserted -drawing-room, with her hat on, talking to him; I thought he had gone an -hour ago, but he had seen her arriving, and stayed to break things to -her and give her all the particulars, before she met the rest of us. He -was somewhat inclined to be officious, though he meant well. - -I exclaimed in astonishment at the sight of her. - -"It was no good, mother; I had to come," said she, rising quickly and -taking out her hat-pins. "And I did not warn you, for fear you should -prevent me. Don't scold me--Dr. Juke doesn't. I want to help, and he -says I can be a lot of use." - -"Invaluable," said Juke, in a young man's gushing manner. "It was only -for your own sake, Miss Phyllis, that I wished you out of it." - -She is not Miss Phyllis, by the way, but Miss Braye. - -"I mean to be everybody's right hand," she continued, trying to cheer -me. "We are not going to let you kill yourself any more, mother dear. -And we are not going to let Harry die, either--are we, Dr. Juke?" - -"No, no," replied the doctor, with an exaggerated air of reassuring me, -as if pacifying a timid child. "We'll pull him through amongst us. The -sight of your face"--it was not my face he meant--"will be the best -medicine he can have. Only, remember, you must not talk to him." - -"I know--I know. You will find that I shall be discretion itself." - -She was quite gay. I could see that she did not yet realise the -situation, poor child, whatever Juke had told her about it. But when I -took her upstairs, and showed her the changed face in the sick-room, she -was shocked enough. She and her brother were devoted to each other. They -used to go to their little parties and entertainments together, and -everybody used to remark upon their looks and say what a handsome pair -they made. He thought--that is, he used to think, before other girls -spoiled him--that there was no one like his sister Phyllis, and she -thought the same of him. Nevertheless, when I told her of his conduct -with Miss Blount, she was quite indignant. She said she would never have -believed it of him. At the same time she was firmly convinced, as I was, -that Miss Blount had done the love-making and led him on. What a comfort -it was to have my dear girl to talk to and confide in! She was not only -a lovely young creature--though I say it--but had the sense of an old -woman. Lily was quite different. But then Lily was a child--barely -seventeen--and she had an absurd infatuation for her governess, such as -you often see in a raw schoolgirl. It was a stupid mistake on my part to -engage a person of twenty-two to teach her--I saw it now; and I think it -a still greater mistake to confer University degrees on such young -women. You seem to expect them to be above the imbecilities of ordinary -girls, and they are not a bit. - -Well, we shut them up together in a separate part of the house, giving -them their meals in the schoolroom. We did not want Lily to be losing -the education we were paying so much for, and Tom and I just took our -food as we could get it. We had no heart to sit down to table. Sometimes -he slept for a little, and sometimes I, but one or the other of us was -always on guard; while Phyllis prepared the iced milk and soda, and -waited on the nurse and doctor. Certainly the doctor was most devoted; -he could not have done more for his patient if he had been his own -brother. - -I am sure it was the opinion of his medical colleague that Harry could -never pull through. He said, in so many words, that the case was as -grave as possible, owing chiefly, as I understood, to the accumulation -of fluid in the chest, which could not be mechanically dealt with. -Nevertheless, the dear boy rallied a little, and then a little more--the -fever keeping down in the daytime, and not running quite so high at -night--until it really seemed that we might begin to hope. He was such a -splendid young fellow, and had such a magnificent constitution! But for -that I am convinced he could not have survived an hour. One afternoon he -was sleeping so comfortably that they all insisted on my going out for -some fresh air. Tom took me for a walk round the garden, and we planned -what we would do for our beloved one when he got well--how we would go -for a little travel to amuse and cheer him, to recruit his strength and -distract his mind from nonsense. - -When I returned, I found that he had awakened from his sleep, calm and -refreshed; that he had asked to see his sister Lily, and--that that fool -of a nurse had allowed it! Oh, I could have shaken her! As it was, I -gave her a talking to that she sulked over for a week. Lily, she said, -had only remained with him ten minutes--as if one minute wouldn't have -been enough to undo all our work! _Idiot!_ And to call herself a trained -nurse, too! - -As soon as I approached his bed I saw the difference. Not only had he -been doing so well, he had been so nice to me, so loving and gentle, as -if feeling that all was right between us. Now he was flushed--I knew his -temperature had gone up again--and he looked at me as if I were his -enemy instead of his mother. - -"Is it true," he said, "that you have given Miss Blount notice?" - -I did not know what to say. Seeing the absolute necessity for keeping -him quiet, I tried to put the question aside. But he would have an -answer. - -"Dearest," I pleaded, "I am doing for the best. And you will be the -first to acknowledge it when you are yourself again. It is for her -sake," I added, though I'm sure I don't know why I said that. - -He continued to look at me as if I were a graven image, insensible to -the tears that filled my eyes. And he looked _so_ handsome--even in this -wreck of health--a fit husband for a queen. - -"Mother," he said, in a stern way, "if you do a thing so unjust as that -I will never forgive you." - -Ah, Harry! Harry! And after all I had done for him--slaving night and -day! After all the love and care, the heart's blood, that I had lavished -on him for nearly twenty-four years! - -"Unjust!" I repeated, cut to the quick. "My boy, I may have my faults--I -daresay I have--nobody is perfect in this world; but my worst enemy -cannot lay it to my charge that I have ever committed an injustice." - -He smiled, but it was a hard smile. And the nurse came up, as bold as -you please, to tell me I must be silent, as I was exciting him. _I_ -exciting him! It was then I gave her that talking to. - -Well, he had been getting on as satisfactorily as possible up to this -point. But now, of course, he went back. His temperature was 104 degrees -in the night, and he complained of pains and uneasiness, and turned -against his nourishment, light and liquid as it was. When he did get a -snatch of sleep, his breathing was as restless as possible. Sometimes it -went fast, and sometimes it seemed to stop, and then he would suddenly -give a deep snore, and a jump that hurt his side and roused him. After -which he would lie still a little while, staring at the wall. His eyes -were full of fever, and presently he began to talk, and we could not -make out what he was saying, except that little huzzy's name--Emily. He -kept saying "Emily"--no, "Emmie"--as if he thought she was in the same -room. Once I fancied he called me, and when I went to him he put up his -poor hands--already so thin and bleached!--and I thought he wanted to be -forgiven and be friends with his mother again. But, just as I was -dropping on my knees beside him to take him into my arms, he said, "Kiss -me, Emmie." And, oh, in such a voice! It made me feel--but I can't -describe how it made me feel. - -And next day he had a shivering fit, and the day after another, with -more fever than ever when they had passed off--a thirst like fire, and -pain in breathing, and delirium, and everything that was bad and -hopeless. Dr. Juke said it meant blood-poisoning, and that he had -expected it from the first; but I did not believe it. For was he not -doing beautifully up to the moment when Lily was allowed to see him and -upset him with her tales? This time we sent for two doctors from -Melbourne, and they and Juke were closeted together for an hour after -making their examination; and, when they came out at last, they said -they were agreed that our boy was in so desperate a state that nothing -short of a miracle could save him. - -I called the girls into my room to break it to them, and we sat on the -sofa at the foot of my bed and had our cry together. I was completely -broken down. So was poor Lily. She sobbed so violently that I was afraid -Harry would hear her. Phyllis was more composed--she always was--and -refused to despair as long as life was in him. She professed contempt -for the great doctors, and pinned her faith to Juke. Juke had told her -that miracles, in his profession, were constantly happening, and that -for his part he did not mean to give up the fight until all was over. - -"I believe, mother," said my brave girl, "that he will succeed, after -all, in spite of those old fogies. He knows a lot more than they do, and -he says there's no calculating the power of youth and a sound -constitution in these cases. He says----" - -But I was too wretched to listen to her. They were not old fogies to -me--those two experienced men--and a young doctor is but a young doctor, -however clever; I found it impossible to hope at this juncture. Lily was -kneeling by me with her arms round my waist, quite hysterical with -grief; and for the moment I felt that she was more in sympathy with me -than her sister. I realised my mistake when the child suddenly sprang to -her feet, hitting my chin with her head as she did so, and declared that -she must go to "poor Miss Blount." - -"Lily," I cried, as she was flinging out of the room in her impetuous -fashion, "what are strangers at such a time as this?" - -"Nothing," said Lily, in a brazen way--she would never have spoken to -her mother in that tone if she had not been encouraged; "but Miss Blount -is not a stranger. She loves Harry, and Harry loves her, and she's -broken-hearted, and she's ill, and she's nearly out of her mind, and -nobody ever says a kind word to her! Even now that he's dying, and they -can't have each other, you treat her as if she were dirt. Poor, poor -Emily! Let me go to her! Now that Harry's dying, she's got nobody--not a -soul in this house--but me!" - -Well, indeed! Who'd be a mother, if she could foresee what would come of -it? To have this blow, on the top of all the rest, and at _such_ a -moment! I felt quite stunned. At first I could only stare at her--I -could not speak; then I said, "Go, go!" and pointed to the door. For I -could bear no more. - -As soon as she was gone, I turned to my faithful Phyllis, put my head on -her shoulder, and sobbed like a baby. - -"Oh, Phyllis," I cried, "never you get married, my dear! Never you have -children, to suffer through them as I suffer!" - -She was wiser than I, however. She said she didn't think it was -altogether the children's fault. - -I admitted it at once. "You are quite right," I said, "and I was wrong. -It is not the children's fault. It's the fault of that hateful creature, -who has set them both against me. First Harry, then Lily--the very one -she was hired to teach her duty to! Fancy a governess, calling herself a -governess, and a B.A. to boot, corrupting an innocent young girl, a mere -child, with all the details of a clandestine love intrigue! What infamy! -What treachery!" I was beside myself when I thought of it. Any mother -would have been. - -But Phyllis was not a mother, and she was but lukewarm in this matter -upon which I felt so strongly. Indeed, I was half inclined to fear that -she, too, had become infected by the evil influence amongst us, until I -found that it was Dr. Juke who had been putting ideas into her head. -Dr. Juke was undoubtedly very clever, and we were enormously indebted to -him; still, I have always felt that he was too fond of giving his -opinion upon things that were altogether outside his province. It -appeared he had been telling Phyllis that it was very bad for Harry to -have any trouble on his mind, and that it was absolutely necessary, if -we would give him his full chances of recovery, to remove any that we -knew of which could be removed. - -"After all," said Phyllis, in a tone that showed how he had talked her -over, "she's a ladylike person enough, and certainly a clever one." - -"Clever, indeed," I retorted, "to have caught a man like him! And -looking all the while as demure and innocent as a nun--as if butter -wouldn't melt in her mouth! Oh, Phyllis, it would blight his career for -ever." - -"Perhaps not," she rejoined tolerantly--for she was too young to know; -"but even so, I would rather have him blight his career than die." - -"You speak," I cried--"you actually speak as if _I_ wanted him to die!" - -Here Tom came in, and when she saw her father she got up to leave us -together. I was glad indeed to have him to myself for a few minutes. We, -at any rate, understood each other. He has his faults, dear fellow, and -I often get impatient with him; but he loves me--he thinks the world of -me--he doesn't question my judgment and criticise my conduct, as the -children do. I was going to tell him about Lily, and about what Juke had -said to Phyllis; but when he took me into his great, strong, kind arms, -I was too overcome to utter a word. I could do nothing but weep. Nor -could he. We thought how we had toiled and slaved to make our precious -boy the man he was--how we had nursed him through his baby illnesses, -and pinched ourselves to send him to public school and University, and -been so proud of his beauty and his talents and his achievements, and -looked forward with such joy to the name he would make in the world; -and how we were to lose him after all, just as we were looking for the -reward of our love and labours--and in this truly awful way! - -Tom said it was quite certain now that he would die. Blood-poisoning had -set in; there were swellings in some muscles of his body to prove it--a -fatal symptom, as every one knew. It only needed to spread to an -internal organ, and the machine would stop at once. - -"And the sooner it's over, the better," groaned Tom, "and the poor -chap's sufferings at an end. Ah, Polly, old girl, little we thought of -this when he was born, and we were as vain as two peacocks over him! Do -you remember how you brought him up to Sydney, because you couldn't wait -till I got home--and we had him on the bridge at night when the -passengers were a-bed below----" - -"Oh, don't!" I wailed in agony. Remember it! Did I not remember it? And -a hundred thousand heart-breaking things. - -But we had to compose ourselves as best we could, and go back to our -dreadful duties; he to see that the doctors had a proper lunch before -they left, I to renew my watch in the sick-room--to see the last, as I -supposed, of my dying boy. - -On my way I came upon Jane hurrying along the passage with a basin of -hot broth. Harry was not allowed animal food, so I stopped her to ask -what she was doing with it. - -"Taking it to Miss Blount," she replied; and I fancied she did not speak -quite so respectfully as usual. "That poor young lady hardly touches her -meals, and it do go to my heart to see her look so ill. I thought -perhaps a drop of good soup'd tempt her." - -Now I did not want to get the character--which I am the last person to -deserve--of being a hard woman. I am not one of those low creatures that -one reads of in novels who don't know how to treat a governess properly. -To me Miss Blount was as much a lady as I was myself, and I had always -made a point of considering her in anything. Besides, it was not the -time for animosities. All was changed in view of Harry's approaching -death. She could not injure him any more. So I took the little tray -from Jane, and said to her, "Go back to your kitchen, and attend to the -doctors' lunch. I will take the broth to Miss Blount, and find out what -is the matter with her." - -The girl was in her bedroom. When she saw me she jumped up, as scared as -if I had been an ogress come to eat her; but when I first opened the -door she was kneeling against her bed, as if saying her prayers. -Certainly, she did look ill. She had had a very nice complexion--no -doubt poor Harry had noticed it--and her eyes were good; but now her -skin was like tallow, and her eyes all dark and washed out, and they had -a curious empty expression in them that I did not like at all. I put the -tray on the drawers and went up to her, and laid my hand on her -shoulder. "My dear," I said, as kindly as I could speak, "I have brought -you a little nourishing broth, that I think will do you good. And you -must take it at once, while it is hot, to please me." - -She did not so much as say thank you, but just stood and stared in a -dazed, fixed way, like a deaf mute. So, naturally, I did not feel -inclined to bother myself further about her, and I turned to go. As soon -as I did that, however, she spoke to me, calling my name. Her voice had -a sort of lost sound in it, as if she were talking in her sleep. - -"Mrs. Braye," she said, "there's something I have been wanting to say to -you." - -"What is it?" I inquired. - -"If Mr. Harry gets well, I will not marry him--to blight his career. I -never would have injured him, and I never will. I would die sooner." - -Well, it seemed rather late to think of that. Still, it showed a nice -spirit, and I liked the way she spoke of him. She really was a lady, in -her way, and--poor thing!--she did look the picture of misery. I am a -tender-hearted woman, and I could not but feel a pang of pity for her. - -"Ah, my dear," I said, "there's no question of marrying or not now! He -is going fast, and nothing matters any more." - -Then I kissed her--I kissed her affectionately--and bade her lie down, -and not trouble about Lily's lessons; and I told her that whenever there -was a change in Harry's condition I would let her know. - -The change came a few days later--not suddenly, but creeping inch by -inch; and it was not the change we had all anticipated. My splendid boy! -Just as he had struggled and triumphed at football and cricket, so his -magnificent strength fought with and overcame the poison in his blood -before it could deposit itself in vital organs. It was marvellous. The -very doctors, accustomed to miracles, could not believe their senses -when they counted his pulse and looked at the little thermometer, and -felt the places where the sore lumps had been. For weeks, I may say, we -seemed to hold our breath in the maddening suspense, tantalised and -intoxicated with a hope we dared not call a certainty; but at last we -knew that life had conquered death, and that I was not called upon to -undergo _this_ agony of motherhood a second time. Of course he was -weaker than a new-born baby--a mere shadow of himself; but he was saved. -When they told me, I fell on my knees, just where I stood, and cried in -my wild rapture and thankfulness, "Oh, God! God! What can I do--what -uttermost service or sacrifice can I offer--for all Thy goodness to me?" - -They looked at me in an odd way. They all looked at me, even my boy with -his hollow eyes. And Tom said, "Come here, Polly, I want to speak to -you;" and took me into our room, and laid his hand on my shoulders. He -stood six feet in his socks, and weighed sixteen stone, but he trembled -like a child. - -"Old girl," he said, "you'll have to let him have her." - -"Oh," I replied, "if he wants the moon, give it to him! I don't care." - -It was a figurative way of expressing my mood of joy--my longing to -compensate him utterly for what he had gone through; and I don't think I -ought to have been taken so literally. But, before the words were well -out of my mouth, Tom made off to Harry's room, and there and then -informed him that "mother had given her consent." - -And he did not tell me he was going to catch me up in this way. When -next I went to my boy's bedside, and he murmured, "Good old mummy!" and -remarked, with that deep thrill in his voice, that it was worth while -getting well, I thought he meant that it was worth while getting well to -see us all so happy. - -"Ay," I said, from my heart, "if you hadn't got well, it's little that -would have been worth while to _me_ any more." - -"Poor old mummy!" he ejaculated. And then, turning serious eyes upon my -face, "You will never regret it. I can answer for that." - -"You need not waste breath to tell me what I know better than I know -anything," I responded, smiling. - -"I mean," he said, still seriously, "about _her._" - -Then I understood why he had said it was worth while to get well. She -was of more consequence to him than all his own people put together. - -"Her?" I queried, smoothing his hair--not letting him guess the pang I -felt. - -"Miss Blount. Father says you have been so good to us--that you have -given us leave--that it's all right now. Look here, mother, if you only -knew her----" - -I stopped him, for he was getting agitated. - -"If your heart is set on it, darling--by and by, I mean, when you are -quite well, and have thoroughly considered the matter--don't imagine _I_ -shall be the one to disappoint you and make you unhappy. I never have -been a cruel mother, have I? And as for knowing Miss Blount, if I don't -know her, having her constantly in the house with me, who should? Don't -worry yourself about Miss Blounts or anything else till you are -stronger, dearest. Put everything out of your head--think of nothing -whatever--except getting well. And when you are quite well--then we'll -see." - -"I can't put her out of my head. I want to see her, mother." - -"So you shall, dear--as soon as you are fit to see people. I will ask -the doctor about it." - -"Juke wouldn't object; he'd be glad. Oh, mother----!" - -The nurse came up, and said she thought he had talked enough. I thought -so too. His thin cheek was flushed, and his lip trembled; he was -inclined to excite himself, and had not strength to spare for that just -yet. I gave him his nourishment, turned his pillow, and whispered to him -that, if he would sleep for a few hours, then he should have his wish. - -"Honour bright?" he whispered back. - -"Don't insult me," I retorted. "When did you ever know me to break a -promise?" - -"To-day, mother?" - -"To-day--if Dr. Juke approves. Of course we must have doctor's express -permission." - -"All right. Give me a squirt of morphia, nurse." - -"No, Master Harry. No more morphia, my dear--except maybe a time or two -at night, when you _can't_ do without it." - -"I can't do without it now," he said. "I've got to sleep before I can -see her, and I can't sleep, of myself, until I do see her." - -"There," I exclaimed, flinging out a hand. "What did I say? I _knew_ -what the effect would be." - -The woman--who, I found, was actually privy to the whole affair--Tom's -doing, no doubt--began to give her opinion, as is the way of those -nurses. "If you'll take my advice," said she, "you'll let him see her -now, and sleep afterwards. It'll tire him less than fretting for her." - -"And if you will be so good as to mind your own business," I replied, -quietly but firmly, "I shall be infinitely obliged to you." - -I had not been out of the room five minutes before Tom came to seek me, -looking quite hoity-toity, as if he thought himself aboard ship again, -with sailors. - -"Now then, Polly," he said, "I'm not going to have any more nonsense -about this. The boy is too weak to be worried. I am going to fetch -Emily." - -"Since when," I asked, "has it been your habit to call her Emily?" - -He stared, and looked confused. "I suppose," he said, "I've caught it -from Harry." - -"Talking with him so much about her, when it was so necessary to keep -him calm? And to that nurse woman, behind my back--as if the private -concerns of our family were any concern of servants! Tom, I didn't think -_you_ would ever be disloyal to me." - -"I don't think I ever have been, Polly. What's more, I don't think you -would ever imagine such a thing in cool blood. Come, you are not going -to spoil this happy day for us all, are you? The boy has been given back -to us by a miracle----" - -That was enough. I flung myself into his arms. - -"Forgive me! Forgive me!" I cried. "I know it is wicked of me. But you -don't _know_ how I feel it, Tom!" - -"Yes, I do, pet; I know exactly." - -"No one but a mother _can_ know. I used to be everything to him once, -and now he is only glad to get well because of her!" - -"Well, it's natural. We----" - -"No, we didn't. We had no mothers. But never mind--I won't be selfish. I -will go and fetch her at once." - -"Would you rather I went?" - -"_Certainly_ not! Do you suppose I want them to go on thinking that you -are their only friend, and I their implacable enemy? _I_ want to make -him happy as much as ever you can do." - -"That's right, old girl. If you're going to do a kind thing, do it the -kindest way you know. They'll be just fit to worship you, both of 'em." - -I did not ask to be worshipped, but I did want my boy to love his mother -a little. I ran to him, brushing the nurse aside. - -"Dearest," I whispered, "I am going to bring Emily. She shall sit with -you as long and as often as you like. She shall be your wife, if you -want her. I will make a daughter of her--for your sake." - -I took the kiss I had so richly earned, and hurried to the schoolroom. -There sat Miss Blount, still faded and tearful, but beaming with the joy -that filled the house, like the sun through rain. She and Lily had been -crying and rejoicing together, congratulating one another. I waved the -child aside, and, taking her governess by the hand, with a "Come, dear," -which I could see explained everything in a moment, led her into Harry's -room. - -After all, she was a lady, and a B.A. He might have done worse. But when -I saw the look he turned to her when she ran like a deer to his -arms--poor sticks of arms!--and how he held her, and crooned over -her--oh, it was like a dagger in my breast! - -Tom took me away, and tried to comfort me. He reminded me that we did -the same ourselves when we were young, and that we still had each -other. - -"You've still got me, Polly. _I_ sha'n't desert you." - -Yes, yes; of course I still had him. But---- - -Well, a _man_ can't understand. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. - - -A boy who is not yet twenty-four, and who has nothing beyond his salary -as a clerk in a shipping office, and whose young lady is a pauper, can -get engaged if he likes; but he cannot get married. I pointed this out -to Harry as soon as he was well enough to be reasoned with. I said to -him, "You know, my dearest, that there's nothing in the world I would -not do to make you happy, but it would not be making you happy to let -you think for a moment of such madness." It appeared, from Tom's -account, that the child had been thinking of it--doubtless at Emily's -instigation. "I might as well encourage you to cut your throat. Far -better, indeed." - -"Better?" he echoed, lifting his eyebrows, and smiling in that queer way -of his. - -"Better!" I insisted firmly. "You little know what it means--that -rushing into irrevocable matrimony without counting the cost--without -knowing what it entails--without experience or means----" - -"Mother," he interrupted, still smiling--a little impudently, though I -don't think he meant to be rude--"you were not any more experienced than -we are, and not any older or richer, were you?" - -I replied with dignity that my case was nowise in point. He wanted to -know why it was not. I said, because I--unlike him--had been practically -homeless at the time. And he cried, "_Were_ you? I never heard of that!" -and stared at me in such a way that I blushed hotly, though old enough -to know better. He was an obstinate fellow, and he corresponded with his -grandfather and young uncles and aunts in England, and had a heap of -their autographed photos in his room. I thought I had better turn him -over to his father. - -Tom was walking in the garden with Emily, who had managed to get around -him in that innocent-seeming way of hers--well, I must not be -uncharitable; I daresay it _was_ innocent, and I could almost have -fancied that they did not care about being interrupted. Only, of course, -that's nonsense. - -"My dear," I said, in a sprightly voice, "your young man seems to find -his mother a bore these days, and it's only natural. I have been trying -to cheer him, and he responds by yawning in my face. Pray do go and -exercise your spells, which are so much more potent, and leave me my old -man, who is still my own." - -Was there any harm in a little light chaff of this kind? One would -surely think not. But Tom, standing and looking after her as she slipped -away, blushing in her ready, _ingenue_ fashion--so unlike a B.A.--said, -quite gravely---- - -"That's a dear little soul, Polly! And I wouldn't speak to her in just -that sort of a way, if I were you. It hurts her." - -"It hurts _me_," I returned, "when _you_ speak in that sort of a way. -It is most unjust. Can't you take a joke? You know perfectly well that I -treat her with the utmost kindness and consideration--that I have -accepted her unreservedly, for my boy's sake." - -"Well, well," said he, "I know you don't mean it. Your bark's worse than -your bite, old girl. Come and look at the new pigs." - -He drew my hand under his arm and patted it. We had had so many little -tiffs lately--things we never dreamt of till Miss Blount came!--that I -was determined not to quarrel now. It should never be said that _I_ was -to blame for making a happy home unhappy. I swallowed my vexation and -went to see the pigs--thirteen little black Berkshires, all as lively as -they could be, on which he gloated whole-heartedly for the moment, as if -they were more than wife or children. In his expansive ardour he offered -me one of them to make a festive dish of for Sunday. - -"Let us have a little feast, Polly, for the young folks. Harry is able -to sit up to table now, and we have done nothing to celebrate the -engagement yet. Sucking-pig and one of the fat turkeys, and ask Juke to -join us. Eh?" - -"My dear," I replied, "I am perfectly willing to celebrate the -engagement in any way you like--yes, we'll have a nice dinner, and ask -Dr. Juke--I am sure we owe him every attention that we can possibly pay -him; but what I want to warn you against is letting them suppose that -there is to be any celebration of the marriage--with our consent." - -Tom stared as if he did not understand. - -"You mean, not immediately?" he questioned. "Of course not." - -"I mean, not for _years_," I solemnly urged. "Tom, you must back me up -in this. The boy is but a boy, with his way to make in the world. Before -we allow him to saddle himself with a wife who will probably be quite -useless--those University women always are--and the responsibilities of -a family, he _must_ be in a position to afford it." - -"Yes," said Tom, in a tepid way. "But you and I, Polly----" - -"Oh, never mind about you and me," I broke in; "that is altogether -different"--for of course it was. "You were a man of twice his age." - -"Which would make him about fourteen," said my husband, trying to be -funny. - -As for me, I saw nothing to laugh at. I cannot imagine a more serious -position as between parent and child. "At his time of life," I said, -"four years are equal to ten at any other stage. Let him have those four -years--let him begin where his father did--and I shall be quite -satisfied." - -"Well, you see, my dear, it hardly rests with us, does it?" - -Tom stirred up the mother sow with his walking-stick, and sniggered in a -most feeble-minded fashion. - -"How? Why not?" I demanded. "Do you mean to say you have not the power -to influence him? Do you think that Harry, if properly advised, would -persist in taking his own way in spite of us? I refuse to believe that -any son of _mine_ could do such a thing." - -Again Tom laughed, looking at me as if he saw some great joke somewhere. -I asked him what it was, and he said, "Oh, never mind--nothing." But I -knew. He was thinking of my own elopement, to which I was driven by my -father's second marriage--an incident that had no bearing whatever upon -the present case. It exasperated me to see him so flippant about a -matter of really grave importance, but I determined not to let him draw -me into a dispute. - -"Four years," I said mildly, "would give them time to know each other -and their own minds. It would be a test, to prove them. If at the end of -four years they were still faithful, I should feel assured that all was -well. But of course they would get tired of each other long before that, -and so he would be spared a terrible fate, and all the trouble would be -at an end." - -We had left the pigsty and were pacing the paths of the kitchen garden, -surveying the depredations of the irrepressible slug. - -"The rain seems to wash the soot away as fast as I put it on," sighed -Tom. "I'll get a bag of lime, and try what that'll do. Well, Polly, for -my part, I should be very sorry to think them likely to get tired of -each other. And I don't believe it, either. I don't think she's that -sort of a girl somehow." - -"How like a man!" I ejaculated. "Just because she's got a pretty face!" - -"No, not because she's got a pretty face--though it is a pretty -face--but because she's good as well as pretty. She's a right down good -girl, my dear, believe me--just the sort of daughter-in-law I'd have -chosen for myself, if I had had the choosing. I told Harry so. You -should have seen how pleased he was!" - -"No doubt. But I don't see how you can know whether she's good or not. -_You_ are not always with her, as we are." - -"Oh, I see her at times. We have little talks occasionally. A man can -soon tell." He put his arm round my waist as we paced along. "I haven't -been married to you for all these years without knowing a good woman -from a bad one, Polly." - -It was intended for a compliment, but somehow I could not smile at it. -In fact, I shed a tear instead. And when he saw it, and stooped to kiss -it away, my feelings overcame me. I threw my arms round his neck and -begged him not to let fascinating daughters-in-law draw away his heart -from his old wife. I daresay it was silly, but I could not help it. Of -course he chuckled as if I had said something very funny. And his only -reply was "_Baby!_"--in italics. So like a man, who never can see a -meaning that is not right on the top of a word. - -However, I promised to be nice to Emily--nicer, rather, for, as I told -him, I had always been nice to her--and he said he would take an early -opportunity to have a serious talk with Harry. - -"But let the poor chap alone till he gets his strength again," he -pleaded--as if I were a perfect tyrant, bent on making the boy -miserable; "let the poor children enjoy their love-making for the little -while that Emily remains here. She has been telling me that she's got a -fine appointment in a school--joint principal--and that she's going to -work in a fortnight--to work and save for their little home, till Harry -is ready for her." - -"_What?_" I exclaimed. "She never told me that." - -"She will, of course, when you give her the chance," said Tom, with an -air of apology. - -"She ought to have told me, she ought to have confided in me, first of -all," I urged, much hurt, as I had every right to be; "I can't -understand why she did not. You seem," I concluded passionately--"you -all seem to be having secrets behind my back, and shutting me out of -everything, as if I were everybody's enemy. It is always so!" - -"It is never so," replied Tom, laying his arm round my shoulder. "You -are never outside, old girl, except when you won't come in." - -That was what they always said when they wanted to defend themselves. - -But here we dropped the painful subject, and discussed the details of -our proposed festival. - -"Only Juke?" I inquired, counting on my fingers. "That makes seven in -all--an awkward number." - -"No matter for a family party," said Tom. "We are not going in for style -this time. The boy in his armchair and pillows will take the room of -two." - -"Still, we may as well make it an even eight," I urged. "Otherwise the -table will look lopsided, and one or other of the girls will have nobody -to talk to." - -"They will be quite satisfied to have their brother to look at. No, no, -Polly, don't let us make a company affair of it, for goodness' sake. -Harry wouldn't like it, or be fit for it either." - -"And isn't Juke company?" - -"By Heavens, no! We owe it to that young fellow that our only son isn't -in his grave--yes, Polly, I am convinced of it--and my house is his, and -all that's in it. Besides, he'll be here professionally--to see that -Harry doesn't overeat himself. Oh, Juke is quite another pair of -shoes." - -I certainly did not see it. He had served us well, no doubt, and we had -paid him well; each side had done its part in a generous and -conscientious spirit. I considered he had no more claim on us now than -the thousands of passengers Tom had carried when he was a sea captain -had on him. I am sure no doctor in the world can match a ship's -commander of the most common type for self-denying devotion to the cause -of duty. But, seeing Tom so inclined to be cross and unreasonable, I -thought it better to say no more. We returned to the sty to select the -piglet that was to be killed, and in my own mind I selected the guest -who should make the table symmetrical. I knew that Harry would only -rejoice to see another friend, and it was due to Phyllis to provide her -as well as the others with a companion. It was also an opportunity which -I did not feel it right to miss for serving her interests in other ways. - -I am not one of those vulgar match-makers who are the laughing-stock of -the young men, and properly so--quite the contrary, indeed: no one can -accuse _me_ of scheming to get my daughters married. Still, they must be -married some day--or should be, in the order of nature--and surely to -goodness a mother is permitted to safeguard, to some extent, a -thoughtless and ignorant girl against the greatest of all the perils -that her inexperience of life can expose her to. Not for the world would -I force her inclination in any way, but there is a difference between -doing that and letting her make a fool of herself with the first casual -puppy in coat and trousers that crosses her path. The duty of parents is -to protect their adolescent children from themselves, as it were, in -this incalculably important matter; that is to say, to keep their path -clear of acquaintanceships from which undesirable complications might -result, while encouraging innocent friendships that may develop with -impunity. Otherwise, what's the use of being parents at all? Your -children might as well be orphans, and better. I neglected this duty, -certainly, when I allowed Harry and Emily Blount to have access to each -other; but then a son is not like a daughter--you can't be always -overlooking him--and that affair was a lesson to me. I determined to be -more vigilant in Phyllis's case. - -Phyllis is not like other girls. I think I may say, without a particle -of vanity, that she is the very prettiest in Australia, at the least. -There may be greater beauties at home--I don't know, it is so long since -I was there; but if there be, I should like to see them. Her features -are not classical, of course, and that dear little piquant suggestion of -a cast in the left eye is a peculiarity, though it is not a defect, any -more than are the freckles she gets in summer: these trifles of detail -merely go to make the _tout-ensemble_ what it is--so charming that she -has but to enter a room to eclipse every other woman in it. This being -so, I was naturally anxious that she should marry, when she did marry, -into her proper sphere, and not be thrown away upon a man unworthy of -her. And I only took the most simple and necessary precaution for her -safety when I limited my invitations to young fellows whom I could -trust--like Spencer Gale. - -Tom says I never had a good word for Spencer Gale until he made his -fortune in Broken Hills. It amuses Tom to make these reckless -statements, and it doesn't hurt me in the least. I _always_ liked the -boy, but any fair-minded person must have acknowledged that his change -of circumstances had improved him--brushed him up, and brightened him in -every way. It was not his wealth that induced me to throw him into my -daughter's company, but his sterling personal qualities. A better son -never walked, excepting my own dear Harry--that alone was enough for me; -a good son never fails to make a good husband, as everybody knows. - -His sister was a friend and neighbour of mine, and I knew that he was -staying with her. At one time all the family had lived here, Mr. Gale -having Tom's fancy for amateur farming and market-gardening in his -leisure hours. Spencer and Harry, both being clerks in Melbourne -offices, used to go into town together of a morning; that was how we -came to know them. But when Spencer had some shares given him which went -to a ridiculous price directly afterwards, and when his money, by all -sorts of lucky chances, bred money at such a rate that he was worth -(they said) a quarter of a million in a twelvemonth, then they all left -this out-of-the-way suburb for a big place in Toorak--all except Mary -Gale, who married a poor clergyman before the boom. Mary's husband, Mr. -Welshman, was the incumbent of our parish, and her good brother was not -at all too grand to pay her visits at intervals, besides helping her to -educate the children. Which proved conclusively that prosperity had not -spoiled him. - -I walked to the parsonage on Friday afternoon, hoping to find him there; -but he was out, and I only saw Mrs. Welshman. I used to like Mary -Welshman in the old days, but she has become quite spoiled since people -began to make a fuss of her family on Spencer's account. It is always -the case--I have noticed it repeatedly; when sudden wealth comes to -those who have not been accustomed to it, it is the girls whose heads -are turned. I asked for Spencer, and mentioned that we wished him to -dine with us, and you would have thought I was seeking an audience with -a king from his lord chamberlain. - -"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure," she said, with her absurd airs of -importance. "He is so much in request everywhere. He is certain to have -a dozen engagements. I don't think you have the remotest chance of -getting him, Mrs. Braye, on such short notice." - -The fact was that she did not want me to get him. She had the fixed -delusion--all the Gales had--that there wasn't a mother or daughter in -the country who was not plotting to catch him for matrimonial purposes; -and she let me see very plainly her suspicion of my motives and her fear -of Phyllis's power. - -"To-night," she exclaimed, in a tone of triumph--"to-night he is dining -at the Melbourne Club, to meet the Governor." Poor thing! It was amusing -to see how proud she was of it--evidently bursting to proclaim the news -to all and sundry. - -"Very well," I said, smiling, "I will just drop a note to him at the -club." - -And then I turned the conversation upon parish matters, as the best way -of taking the conceit out of her. For I don't believe in clergymen's -wives setting themselves up to patronise their lady parishioners, on -whose favour and subscriptions (to put it coarsely) their husbands' -livelihood depends. - -On my way home I was fortunate enough to encounter Spencer Gale himself. -He was looking very well and handsome, riding a magnificent horse, which -curveted and pranced all over the road when he checked its gallop in -obedience to my uplifted hand. I felt a thrill of maternal pride as I -gazed at him--of maternal anxiety also. - -"My boy," I cried, "do pray be careful! Remember what happened to poor -Harry from this sort of rashness, and what a valuable life it is that -you are risking!" - -"Oh, it's all right, Mrs. Braye," he responded, in his nice, cheerful -way. "It is only oats and high spirits. How's Harry? Getting along like -a house afire, Mary tells me. I'm awfully glad." - -Dear fellow! His kindness touched me to the heart. I suppose he was -afraid to dismount from that obstreperous beast, lest he should lose -control of it, and I am sure he could not help the way it tried to -trample on me with its hind legs when I came near enough to talk. - -I told him how beautifully Harry was doing, and how he was to have his -first dinner with us on Sunday, and how delighted he would be to see an -old friend on such an occasion--and so on. Spencer seemed not to -understand me for a moment, owing to the clatter of the horse, for he -said he could not come because he was going to dine with the Governor at -the Melbourne Club. - -"But that is to-night," I called. "And we want you for the day after -to-morrow--Sunday. Just a simple family meal at half-past one--pot-luck, -you know." - -He did not answer for some minutes--thinking over his engagements, -doubtless; then he asked whether _all_ of us were at home. Aha! I knew -what that meant, though of course I pretended I didn't. I said that no -member of the family would be so heartless as to absent herself from -such a festival as Harry's first dinner; that, on the contrary, his -sister was more devoted to him, and far more indispensable both to him -and to the house than a dozen hospital nurses. I described in a few -words what Phyllis had been to us during our time of trouble, and he -smiled with pleasure. And of course he consented to accept the casual -invitation for her sake, pretending reluctance just to save appearances. -It was arranged that he would be at his sister's on Sunday, and walk -back with us after morning service. - -I told Tom in the evening, when he was sitting in the garden with his -pipe, in a good temper. You would have supposed I was announcing some -dreadful domestic calamity. - -"Whatever for?" he grumbled, with a most injured air. "I thought we -were to be a comfortable family party, just ourselves, and no fuss at -all." - -"There will be no fuss," I said, "unless you make it. He is just coming -in a friendly, informal manner, to fill the vacant place. If you will -have Dr. Juke, there must be another man to balance the table." - -"But why that man? You know Harry can't bear him since he's got so -uppish about his money and his swell friends. Why not have somebody of -our own class?--though I think it perfectly unnecessary to have anybody -under the circumstances." - -"Our own class!" I indignantly exclaimed. "I hope you don't insult your -children, not to speak of me, by implying that they are not good enough -for Gales to associate with?" - -"They are," said Tom; "they are--and a lot too good for one Gale to -associate with. But he don't think so, Polly." - -"If he did not, would he do it?" was my unanswerable retort. But it is -useless trying to argue with a prejudiced man who is determined not to -see reason. And I felt it wise to leave him before he could draw me into -a dispute. - -Harry, however, was equally exasperating. He said, "Oh, then I shall -make it Monday, if you don't mind. Better a dinner of herbs on -washing-day in peace and comfort than a stalled ox on Sunday with -Spencer Gale to spoil one's appetite and digestion for it." But Emily -rebuked him on my behalf. She had but to look at him to make him do what -she wished, and I suppose she thought it good policy to propitiate the -future mother-in-law. - -Phyllis, whom I had expected to please--for whose sake I had gone to all -this trouble--was simply insolent. Alas! it is the tendency of girls in -these days. Respect for parents, trust in their judgment and deference -to their wishes, all the modest, dutiful ways that were the rule when I -was young, seem quite to have gone out of fashion. You would have -thought that she was the mother and I the daughter if you had heard how -she spoke to me, and seen the superior air with which she stood over me -to signify her royal displeasure. - -"Oh, well, you have just gone and spoilt the whole thing--that's all." - -I could have cried with mortification. But then, what's the use? It is -only what wives and mothers must expect when they try to do their best -for their families. - -I had another struggle with her on Sunday morning. She refused to -accompany us to church. She said she was not going to offer herself to -Spencer Gale as a companion for a half-hour's walk--that he was quite -conceited enough without that; if other girls chose to run after him and -spoil him, she didn't. As if _I_ would ask her to run after any man! And -as if Emily or I could not have walked home with our guest! But I -learned a little later what all this prudishness amounted to. When we -came back from church--Emily, Lily, Spencer, and I--we found an empty -drawing-room, Harry and Tom in armchairs on the verandah, and Phyllis -away in the kitchen garden gathering strawberries for dessert with Dr. -Juke! And I discovered that that young man had interpreted an invitation -to lunch at half-past one as meaning that he should arrive punctually at -twelve. Tom pretended that he had called professionally at that hour, -and been persuaded to put his buggy up in our stables and remain. - -"And I suppose you persuaded him?" I said, trying--because Spencer was -standing by me--to keep what I felt out of my voice. - -"Well, my dear," replied the fatuous man, "the truth is, he didn't want -much pressing." - -There are times when I feel that I could shake Tom, he is so -wooden-headed and silly--though so dear. - -However, Phyllis, when I called her in, greeted Spencer Gale with proper -cordiality; and the whole family behaved better than I had expected they -would. They seemed to lay themselves out to be pleasant all round, and -to make Harry's first day downstairs a happy one. It was a delightful -early-summer day--he could not have had a better--and our pretty home -was looking its prettiest, for we had had nice rains that year. Phyllis -had decorated the table beautifully with roses, and Jane had surpassed -herself in cooking the dinner. The pig was done to a turn--I never -tasted anything so delicious--and the turkey was a picture. We had our -own green peas and asparagus and young potatoes, and our own cream -whipped in the meringues and coffee jelly--in short, it was as good a -dinner as any millionaire could wish for, and in the end everything -seemed to go as I had intended it should. - -Harry was no trouble at all. I purposely put him at his father's end of -the table, with Emily between him and Juke, to pacify him; and, with his -young lady at his side and Spencer as far off as possible, the dear boy -was as gay and good-tempered as could be, quite the life of the party. -Spencer sat between me and Phyllis, and she really seemed to devote -herself to him. I was surprised to see how little fear she evidently had -of appearing to throw herself at his head, like the other girls; she -chattered and joked to him--the prettiest colour and animation in her -face--and hardly glanced at Juke opposite, who, for his part, confined -his attentions to his neighbours, Miss Blount and me, and was -particularly unobtrusive and quiet. - -As for Spencer Gale, he was most interesting in his descriptions of what -he had seen and done during his recent European travels; it was quite an -education to listen to him. I was particularly pleased that he was so -ready to talk on this subject, because I hate to have the children grow -up narrow-minded and provincial, ignorant of the world outside their -colony. It has been the dream of my life to take them home and give them -advantages, and I have never been able to realise it. I could not help -thinking, as that young man discoursed of Paris and Venice and all the -rest of it, what a delightful honeymoon his bride might have! And so she -did, as it turned out, no great while afterwards. - -Harry yawned and fidgeted, for sitting long in one position tired him; -so Tom and Juke carried him to a cane lounge on the verandah before the -rest of us had had dessert. I was annoyed with Phyllis for running out -to get pillows, which were already there, and for not returning when she -had made her brother comfortable. Emily had the grace to remain at -table, and of course Lily stayed also. She is a most intelligent child, -voracious for information of all sorts; and she plied our guest with so -many questions, and amused him so much by her interest in his -adventures, that she made him forget the strawberries on his plate and -how time was going--forgetting herself that the poor servants were -wanting to clear away so that they might get out for their Sunday walk. - -At last he finished, and I led the way to the verandah, where I expected -to find the others. But only Harry and his father were there, the boy -looking rather fagged and inclined to doze, and Tom--who has no -manners--placidly sucking at his pipe. - -"Why, where is Phyllis?" I inquired. - -"Kitchen," said Harry promptly, opening his eyes. - -"And the doctor?" - -"Gone off to a patient." - -"Then," said I, "come and let me show you my roses, Mr. Gale;" and I -took his arm. I thought it a good opportunity to have a little quiet -talk with him on my own account. Afterwards I remembered that my husband -and son watched us rather anxiously as we sauntered off into the garden, -but I did not notice it at the time. It never crossed my mind that they -could deliberately conspire to deceive me. - -I had had the garden tidied, and, in the first flush of the summer -bloom, it looked really beautiful--although I say it. I would not have -been ashamed to show it to the Queen herself. And our rustic cottage, -that we had continually been adding to and improving ever since it came, -a mere shanty, into our hands, was a study for a painter, with the -yellow banksia in perfection, quite hiding the framework of the -verandah. I halted my companion on the front lawn, at the prettiest -point of view. - -"A humble little place," I remarked; "but I think I may say for it, -without undue vanity, that it looks like the home of gentlefolks." - -He followed my gaze, and fixed his eyes upon the particular window which -I informed him belonged to Phyllis's room. - -"What's she doing?" he inquired bluntly. He could not conceal his -impatience for her return. - -I told him that, in the case of so variously useful a person, it was -impossible to say. I had no doubt she was attending to housekeeping -matters, which she never neglected for her own amusement. Then I threw -out a feeler or two, to test him--to learn, if possible, something of -his tastes and character; it was necessary, for her sake, to do so. And -I was delighted to find that he shared my opinion of the colonial girl -as a type, and agreed with me that the term "unprotected female" should -in these days be altered to "unprotected male," seeing that it was the -women who did all the courting, and the men who were exposed to masked -batteries, as it were, at every turn. - -"A fellow's never safe till he's married," said the poor boy, doubtless -speaking from painful experience. "And not then." - -"That depends," said I. "There are people--I know plenty--who, having -married dolls like those we have been speaking of, find themselves far -indeed from being safe; but choose a good, modest, clever, loving girl, -who has been well brought up--one devoted to her home and unspoiled by a -vulgar society--and it is quite another pair of shoes, as my husband -would say. By the way, ask _him_ what he thinks of marriage for young -men." - -"I don't know that I want to ask anybody anything," he returned, a -little irritably--for Phyllis was still invisible--"except to leave me -alone to do as I like. I don't believe in having wives selected for me, -Mrs. Braye; I'm always telling my mother and sisters that, and they -won't pay the least attention. I think a fellow might be allowed to -please himself, especially a fellow in my position." - -"Certainly," I said, with all the emphasis I could command. "_Most_ -certainly. That is my own view exactly. I have always said that, in -respect of my own children, I would never force or thwart them in any -way. I chose the one I loved, regardless of wealth or poverty, and they -shall do the same. More than that," I added gaily, "I am going to be the -most charming mother-in-law that ever was! I shall quite redeem the -character. I will never attempt to interfere with my children's -households--never be _de trop_--never--oh! Why, there she is!" - -We were turning into a quiet path between tall shrubs--the fatal place -where, as I was told, Harry had been entrapped--and I suddenly saw the -gleam of a white dress in a little bower at the end of it. At the same -moment I saw--so did Spencer Gale--a thing that petrified us both. I was -struck speechless, but his emotion forced him to hysteric laughter. - -"I'm afraid," said he, recovering himself, "that we are _de trop_ this -time, at any rate." - -"Not at all," I retorted, also rallying my self-command. "Not at all. We -don't have anything of that sort in this family." - -But the facts were too palpable; it was useless pretending to ignore -them. Phyllis jumped out of the arbour, like an alarmed bird out of its -nest, and came strolling towards us, affecting a nonchalant air, but -with a face the colour of beetroot with confusion; and that unspeakable -doctor, who had caused her so to forget herself, strutted at her side, -twirling the tip of his moustache and endeavouring to appear as if he -had not been kissing her, but looking all the time the very image of -detected guilt. - -It is not necessary to state that Spencer Gale left immediately, and -never darkened our doors again. When, a little later, I had it out with -Phyllis, she declared, with a toss of the head, that she wouldn't have -taken him if there had been no other marriageable man living--that there -was only one husband for her, whom she intended to have whether we -liked it or not, even if she were forced to wait for him till she was an -old woman. I have often regretted that I did not control myself better, -but she, who had no excuse for violence, behaved like a perfect lunatic. -She went so far as to say she would never forgive me for the insults I -had heaped upon one--meaning Edmund Juke--who had no equal in the -universe, and who had saved her brother's life. Of course she did not -mean it--and I did not mean it--and we forgave each other long ago; but -I never hear the name of Spencer Gale without the memory of that -interview coming back to me, like a bitter taste in the mouth. - -He married about the same time as she did--a significant circumstance! -They say that he lost his boom money when the boom burst, and that he -drinks rather badly, and makes domestic scandals of various kinds. If he -does, it is no more than one might have expected, considering the -provocation. It is all very well for my family to repeat these tales to -his discredit, and then point to Edmund Juke in Collins Street gradually -climbing to the top of his profession; they think this is sufficient to -prove that they were always Solomons of wisdom, and I a fool of the -first magnitude. It does not occur to them that if some things had been -different, all things would have been different. The one man would never -have fallen into low habits if he had had Phyllis for his wife, and the -other would never have risen so high if he had not had her. That is how -I look at it. And as for material prosperity, no one could have foreseen -how things were going to turn out, and luck is like the rain that falls -on the just and on the unjust--it comes to the people who don't deserve -it quite as often as to those who do. - -For my part, I pay no heed to malicious gossip. There are always envious -persons ready and anxious to pull down those who are placed above them; -if they cannot find a legitimate pretext, they invent one. I see for -myself that he still lives in his beautiful Kew house, that his wife -still leads the fashion at every important social function and drives -the finest turn-out in Melbourne; that does not look as if they were so -very poor. And if one _could_ forgive infidelities in a married man, it -would be in the case of one tied to a painted creature who evidently -cares for nothing but display and admiration--to have her photograph -flaunted in the public streets, and herself surrounded by a crowd of -so-called smart people, flattering her vanity for the sake of her -husband's position. He may have a handsome establishment, but he cannot -have a _home._ So who can wonder if he seeks comfort elsewhere, and -flies to the bottle to drown his grief? It would have been very, very -different if my beautiful Phyllis had been at the head of affairs. - -However, if she is satisfied, it is not for me to say a word. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE SILVER WEDDING. - - -Emily went to her school in Melbourne, and I had to get another -governess for Lily. She was a horrid woman. I stood her for one quarter, -and then packed her off; and we had to pay her for six months, because -she threatened to sue us for breach of contract. The next that I -procured was a clever person enough, and not wanting in good manners, -but she ordered the servants about as if the house belonged to her, and -of course they resented it. So did I. Emily's gentle unobtrusiveness had -spoiled us for ways of that sort. Moreover, Miss Scott was terribly -severe upon Lily; the child was always in tears over lessons that were -too hard for her. I did not believe in overstraining a growing girl, and -ventured to remonstrate now and then on her behalf; but Miss Scott was -quite above taking advice from her elders and betters--as good as asked -me to mind my own business, or, at any rate, to allow her to know hers. -So I thought it best to make a change. - -And then I was deceived by false representations into engaging a widow -lady, who had seen better days. She was recommended to me as an -experienced teacher, having held situations in high families before her -marriage; and I naturally supposed that one who had been a mother -herself would be a safer guide for a young girl than one who had not. -But words cannot describe what a wretch that woman was. There is -something about widows--I don't know what it is--something that seems -almost improper--especially those that are by way of being young and -pretty, like Mrs. Underwood, though she was all forty, if she was a day, -in spite of her baby airs and graces and her butter-yellow hair. She had -the audacity to try and flirt with Tom, under cover of her pathetic -stories of her lost husband and children, and those better days that -were a pure invention; and he was too idiotically stupid--that is, too -innocent and simple-minded--to see what was so glaringly transparent to -everybody else. He used to think her an ill-used woman and pity her, and -think me hard and unfeeling because I didn't. Oh, never will I have a -widow about my house again! She entirely destroyed our domestic peace. -Things came to such a pass, indeed, that Tom even threatened--seriously, -and not in a joke--to get out his captain's certificate and return to -sea, because his home, that had always been so happy, had become -unbearable. - -She went at last, and then I felt that I had had enough of governesses. -Determined that I would never undergo such misery again, and at the same -time strongly objecting to boarding-schools for girls, there was nothing -for it but to superintend Lily's general studies myself, and take her -into town for special lessons. I did not like the job, and found her -very tiresome and disheartening; she seemed to mope, all alone, and -would not interest herself in anything. A girl in these days is never -satisfied with her mother for a companion, and after a time, when the -Jukes were settled in their Melbourne house, I was glad to let her go on -long visits to her sister. There she found plenty to occupy and amuse -her, while I sat solitary at home, working for them both. - -For I had no children left when she was away. The difficulty of the -governess was not the only trouble that resulted from Emily's desertion -of me. Harry also forsook the nest. He said it was inconvenient to live -so far from his office, though he had never thought of that while she -was with us, and that it would be better for business reasons to have a -lodging in town. I did not attempt to thwart him. And so, as soon as he -was strong enough to return to regular work--so valued was he by the -shipping firm which employed him that they had kept his situation open -during his illness--he took himself and a new bicycle to a stuffy -Melbourne suburb, where he would be in the way of meeting his beloved -frequently at the houses of her friends. - -I wanted to settle in Melbourne too, to be near them all. But our little -place was our own--a valuable property, yet unsaleable in these bad -times--and Tom said we could not afford it. Besides, I knew he would be -miserable cooped up in streets, and lost without his pigs and vegetable -garden. - -Thus we felt ourselves stranded on the shore while our young ones put to -sea--deserted in our old age--which, after all, is the common fate. Only -we were not in our old age, either of us. I have not a grey hair in my -head, even now, and have more than once been taken for Phyllis's elder -sister. On the day that she was married, when I wore pale heliotrope -relieved with white, I overheard old Captain Saunders--and a man of -eighty ought to be a judge--say to Mr. Welshman, "She's a pretty girl, -but her mother can beat her." And I should like to see the man of forty -who is the equal of what my husband was at fifty-five--or is at his -"present-day" age, which comes to little more. Tom is stout certainly, -but only in a dignified and commanding fashion; he can out-do Harry in -feats of strength, and his fine, bronzed face, with those keen blue eyes -in it, has a power of manliness that kings might envy. For the matter of -that, kings are not nearly so much of kings as he was accustomed to -being on board his ships. I know the lady passengers made themselves -ridiculous by the way they scrambled for his notice and a seat beside -him at the saloon table. - -To people like Mrs. Underwood, though she was really my contemporary, I -may seem very _passee_--no doubt I do--and a perfect granny to the -children, who regard youth and beauty as solely the prerogatives of -bread-and-butter misses in their teens; but--as Captain Saunders's -remark indicated--I am not too old to charm where I want to charm. No, -indeed; nor ever shall be--to one person, at all events. When Tom and I -woke up on our silver wedding morning and kissed each other, did we not -know what love meant as much and more than we had ever done, without -needing Juke and Phyllis, and Harry and his Emily to teach us? I should -think so, indeed! It seems to me that it _requires_ the fulness of many -years, fatherhood and motherhood in all stages and phases, innumerable -steps of painful experience climbed together, to bring us to the perfect -comprehension of love--the best love--that love in the lore of which -those children, who think themselves so knowing, are mere beginners, -with the alphabet to learn. - -And this, by the way--it has just this moment occurred to me--is the -kernel of the woman question, which seems so vastly complicated. Why, it -is as simple as it can possibly be. The whole thing is in a nutshell. -Those advocates and defenders of this and that, arguing so passionately -and inconclusively at such interminable length--how silly they are! You -have one set of people raving for female suffrage and equal rights and -liberties with tyrant man; you have another set of people storming at -them for thus ignoring the intentions of Nature, the interests of the -house and family. The intentions of Nature, indeed! The house and -family! When millions of poor women are old maids who haven't chosen to -be so!--who, of course, _could_ not choose to be so, unless -physiologically defective in some way or another. Poor, poor things! -They don't want equal rights with man, but equal rights with the lower -animals. As they don't know what they miss, they may be forgiven for the -way they speak of it in their books and speeches; but if they had it--if -all had it who by nature are entitled to it--there would be no more -woman question. I am quite convinced of that. Nature's intentions would -then really be fulfilled, and the other troubles of the case, all -secondary and contingent, would vanish. Of course they would. Man is not -a tyrant, bless him! The child is the only tyrant--the legitimate power -that keeps woman in her place. - -But, oh, how much that child does cost us! We give all freely, and would -give a thousand times more if we had it to give, for it is the most -precious of human privileges--the thing we really live for, though it is -inconvenient to admit it; but we pay with heart's blood, from the -beginning to the end. We pay so much and so constantly that it often -seems to me that the poor childless ones, undeveloped and inexperienced, -who cannot know the great joys of life, are also exempt from all sorrow -that is worthy of the name. - -Baby-rearing, absorbingly interesting though it be, is really a terrible -business; and the fewer the babies the worse it is. You hardly know what -it means to have a night's rest for dread of the ever-recurring -epidemics that so fatally ravage the nurseries of this country. Day and -night you have the shadow of the clinical thermometer, your sword of -Damocles, hanging over you, and are afraid to breathe lest you should -bring it down. Then, when this hair-whitening strain begins to slacken a -little and you think you are going to have an easy time, the children -that are now able to take care of themselves utterly refuse to do so. -Your girl goes wet-footed with a light heart, and you never see a -telegraph messenger coming to the house without expecting to hear that -your boy at school has broken his arm at football or his neck -bird's-nesting. They follow their mischievous devices, and you can't -help it; you can only cluck and fuss like a futile hen running round the -pond in which her brood of ducklings is splashing. That's worse than -baby-rearing, because you can at least do what you like with a baby. - -And then, when you pride yourself on having successfully got through the -long struggle, and you tell yourself that now they are going to be a -help and a comfort to you at last, off they go to the first stranger who -beckons to them, and think no more about you than of an old nurse who -has served her purpose--probably turning round to point out the errors -you have committed, and to show you how much better you would have done -if you had taken their advice. And that is worst of all. - -No trouble that I had had with mine, while they were with me, equalled -the trouble of being without them, especially on the silver wedding -morning, when I had, as it were, the field of my married life before me; -when I felt that a golden harvest was my due, and beheld a ravaged -garden with all its flowers plucked. It was my own fault that no letters -of congratulation came by the first post; I had purposely refrained from -reminding the children of the approaching anniversary, just to see if -they would remember it, and they had been too full of their own concerns -to give it a thought. Afterwards they scolded me for not telling them, -and were very repentant. I had no present either--that is, not on the -day. Tom had given me a silver _entree_ dish, and I had given him a -silver-mounted claret-jug; but we had made our purchases a week too -soon, and had been unable to keep the matter secret from each other. It -was a wet morning, and I, being the first downstairs, was greeted with -the smell of burnt porridge in the kitchen. I thought it too bad of Jane -to let such a thing happen on such an occasion, and a hardship that -rain should be running like tears down the breakfast-room window panes -when I so particularly wanted to be cheered. It was April, the month of -broken weather, and leaves were falling thickly on the beds and paths -outside. I surveyed the dripping prospect, and noted how impossible it -was to keep the weeds down, with the summer-warmed earth so moist; and I -turned back into the room to see a late-lit fire fading on the hearth, -and the children's empty chairs against the wall. - -Well, I sat down behind the two lonely tea-cups and bowed my head on the -table, on the point of tears--feeling that I too was a denuded autumn -tree, an outworn woman who had had her day. And then, before I could get -out my handkerchief, Tom came in. - -He kicked two logs together, and the dying fire sprang to life; he -opened a window, and the freshest and sweetest morning air poured in, -sprinkled with a gentle shower and hinting at coming sunshine. - -"What a lovely day we've got, eh, Polly? What a beautiful rain! This'll -bring the grass on, and make the land splendid for ploughing, hey? -What's the matter, old girl? Missing the children? Oh, well, they're -happy; we've nothing to fret about on their account--nor on our own -either--and that's more than most people can say on their silver wedding -morning. Porridge spoilt? Oh, that's no matter--we have something better -than porridge. Here, Jane! Jane! Bring in the you know what, if you've -got 'em ready." - -Jane came in, smiling, with the new _entree_ dish in her hands. Tom -watched it with gleeful eyes, and assisted to place it on the table. It -was his little surprise for me--mushrooms, to which I am extravagantly -partial--the first of the season. He had gone to Melbourne the day -before to buy them, and it was her absorption in the task of cooking -them delicately which had caused Jane to neglect the porridge--Tom's -first course at every breakfast. - -"There" said he, as he lifted the shining lid. He was as pleased as a -boy with his plot and its _denouement._ - -"Oh, you _precious!_" I responded; and the gratitude he expected brought -tears to my eyes. "No one _ever_ had such a husband as mine!" - -He beamed complacently, and sat down beside me, inconveniently close. -With his arm round my waist, he helped me to pour out the coffee, and -spilled it on the cloth; he fed me with the best of the mushrooms and -morsels of beef steak, and wiped gravy from my lips with his own napkin. -He seemed to feel that I needed some extra comfort to make up for the -children's absence, though he said repeatedly that it was only fitting -we should have our wedding-day, whether gold, silver, or pewter, to -ourselves. - -"As for you," he said, "I declare you don't look a day older than when I -married you, Polly. Oh, well, a little fuller in the figure, perhaps; -but that's an improvement. Old Saunders is quite right--you can beat -the young girls still." - -I told him he could beat the young men in the making of pretty speeches, -and I pretended not to believe his flatteries; but I knew that he meant -every word he said, being the sincerest of men. And my spirits rose by -leaps and bounds, until I felt even younger than I looked, and like a -real bride once more, just as if those strenuous intermediate years had -dropped out of the calendar. The barometer was rising too. Before we had -finished our mushrooms the rain had all passed off, and the sun was -shining on a clean and fragrant earth. Everything outside glittered and -shimmered. It was a thoroughly bridal morning, after all. - -"And now, what shall we do?" my husband inquired, having lit his pipe -and taken a rapid glance over the newspaper. "We must do something to -celebrate the day. What shall it be?" - -"It doesn't much matter what, so long as we do it together," was my -reply. "But I think I should like to go out somewhere, shouldn't you? -It is going to be the perfection of weather." - -"Oh, we'll go out, of course. We'll have a day's sight-seeing, and our -lunch in town. Let's see"--we studied the "Amusements" column, as we had -so often seen the children do--"there's the Cyclorama; we have never -seen the Cyclorama yet, and I'm told it's splendid." - -"And it is years since we were at the Picture Gallery," I remarked. -"There must be dozens of pictures there that we have never seen." - -"We might go to the Zooelogical Gardens. If there was one thing more than -another that I was fond of as a boy it was a wild beast show. They feed -them at four o'clock." - -"Yes, and the seals at the Aquarium too. I remember seeing the seals fed -at Exhibition time. It was most interesting." - -"And they've got Deeming at the Waxworks, Harry says----" - -"Oh, Tom--waxworks! However, I don't see why we shouldn't go to -waxworks if we feel inclined. We are free agents. There is nobody to -criticise us now." - -I began to feel that it was really almost a relief to be without the -children, just for once in a way. Children are so dreadfully severe and -proper in their views of what fathers and mothers ought to do. - -"Well, go and get your things on," said my husband, "while I have a look -round outside." - -He dashed off to see that pigs and fowls were fed, and the boy started -on his day's work; and I ran into the kitchen to tell Jane not to cook -anything, and upstairs to change my dress and put on my best bonnet. In -our haste to make the most of our holiday, we frisked about like young -dogs let off the chain. It did not matter how undignified it looked, -since there was nobody to laugh at us. - -Before ten o'clock we were off, and before eleven we were in Melbourne, -sliding up Collins Street on a tram dummy, on our way to the Cyclorama. -The Picture Gallery had been set down as a first item of the -programme--it opened at ten, and one had the place to one's self during -the forenoon--but afterwards we put it at the bottom of the list, and -finally struck it out altogether. Our feeling was that we could do -pictures at any time--pictures were things young people would thoroughly -approve of as an amusement for parents--but that we could not always do -exactly as we liked. So we went to the Cyclorama first, and were so -intensely interested that we stayed there nearly an hour. We had read of -the battle of Waterloo in our school books, but never realised it in the -least; now we were like eye-witnesses of the fight, and the whole thing -was clear to us. A soldier amongst the spectators pointed out a number -of mistakes in the arrangements of troops and guns, but we did not -understand them, and did not want to; indeed, we would not listen to -him. We moved round and round in our dark watch-tower to the quiet -places, and gazed over the far-stretching fields with more delight than -our first peep-show at an English fair had given us. The illusion of -distance was so complete that it corrected all crudities of detail, and -we simply lost ourselves in the romance of the past and our own -imaginations. - -"Never saw anything so wonderful in my life," said Tom, as at last we -tore ourselves away. "I seem to smell that chateau burning, and to hear -those poor chaps groaning with their wounds. I'm glad we went, aren't -you, Polly?" - -I truthfully replied that I was very glad indeed, and we emerged into -the street, and he hailed a passing tram. Again we took our places on -the dummy, that we might see and feel as much of the bright day as -possible. Melbourne was still gay and busy, in spite of gloomy -commercial forecasts, and the weather was all that a perfect autumn -morning could make it. The sun shone now with an evident intention to -continue doing so till bed-time, and we basked in it on the dummy seat -like two cats. - -"What shall we do next?" asked Tom, consulting his watch. "It is not -near lunch-time yet. We must get an appetite for the sort of meal I mean -to have to-day." - -Before we could make up our minds what to do next, the tram had carried -us into Burke Street, and lo! there was the temple of the waxworks -staring us in the face. Tom signalled the conductor, and we jumped off, -hand in hand, and without a word made our way to the door of the show -which we had heard even young children speak of as beneath -contempt--only fit for bloodthirsty schoolboys of the lower orders and -louts from the country who knew no better. - -Well, we were from the country; and, whatever the artistic shortcomings -of this exhibition, it had the charm of novelty at any rate. Neither of -us had been to waxworks since we were taken as infants to Madame -Tussaud's. This was a far cry from Madame Tussaud's, but I must confess -that it amused us very well for half an hour. The effigies were full of -humour, and the instruments of torture in the chamber of horrors very -real and creepy. Also there were some relics of old colonial days that -were decidedly interesting. In short, we did not feel that we had wasted -time and two shillings when we had gone through the place, though we -pretended to have done so, laughing at each other, saying, "How silly we -are!" - -"Well, let's be silly," said Tom, at last. "There's no law against that, -that I know of." - -"None whatever," I gaily responded. "There's nobody to----" - -"Hush!" he exclaimed, interrupting what I was going to say with a sharp -snatch at my arm. We were just leaving the waxworks, and he pulled me -back within the door. - -"What's the matter?" I cried, bewildered by his sudden action and tone -of alarm. - -"Come back--come back!" he whispered excitedly. "For Heaven's sake, -don't let her see us!" - -"Who? who?" - -He pointed to the street, and I had a momentary glimpse of our daughter -Phyllis going by in her husband's buggy. Edmund, in his tall town hat, -which glittered in the sun, was driving her himself; she sat beside him -under her parasol, calm, matronly, dignified, a model of all propriety. -How would she have looked if she had seen her mother coming out of the -waxworks? It was quite a shock to think of it. - -"She has been shopping," said Tom casually, "and Ted's been out after -patients, and has picked her up, sending the groom home. It isn't every -Collins Street doctor who'd let his wife be seen with him in the -professional vehicle. Ted's a good fellow and a first-rate husband. We -have a lot to be thankful for, Polly." - -"We have," I assented, drawing a long breath of relief. For the moment I -was most thankful that my dear girl, whom I had so yearned for, was out -of sight. The coast was clear, and we sallied forth once more in pursuit -of our own devices. Being still not quite as hungry as Tom desired, we -strolled around the block and looked in at the shop windows--the -florists, the milliners, the photographers. - -"Do you remember," said Tom, as we gazed upon a galaxy of Melbourne -beauties smiling down upon the street, "how we had our likenesses taken -in our wedding clothes?" - -"And, oh, such clothes!" I interjected. "A flounced skirt over a -crinoline, a spoon bonnet----" - -"It was the image of you, my dear, and I wouldn't part with that picture -for the world. I say, let's go and be done now. I'd like a memento of -this day, to look at when the golden wedding comes. Just as you are, in -that nice tailor tweed--in your prime, Polly." - -I told him it was nonsense, but he would have it. The people said they -would be ready for us at 2.30, and when we had had an immense lunch, and -were both looking red and puffy after it, we were photographed together, -like any pair of cheap trippers--I sitting in an attitude, with my head -screwed round, he standing over me, with a hand on my shoulder. The -result may now be seen in a handsome frame on his smoking-room -mantelpiece; He thinks it beautiful. - -After the operation we had a cup of tea in the nearest restaurant, and -by that time it was too late to think of the Zooelogical Gardens, which -closed at five, and required a whole day to reveal all their treasures. -But we thought we might be in time to see the seals fed, and so took -tram again for the Exhibition building. As we entered the Aquarium -through the green gloom of the Fernery, we heard the creatures barking, -and saw the keeper walking towards the tanks with his basket of fish. We -were in good time, and there was no great crowd to-day, so that we could -stand close to the iron bars and see all the tricks of the man and the -beasts, which were unspeakably funny. I don't know when I have laughed -so much as I laughed that afternoon. And Tom was just as much amused as -I was. - -But when the last fish had been thrown and caught, and we sat down on a -bench to rest for a minute, he fell suddenly silent, and I thought he -appeared a little tired. - -"I know what it is," I said, looking at him. "You are just dying for a -pipe." - -"No," he answered; "at least, not particularly. But I'll tell you what I -do seem to long for, Polly, and that's a sight of blue water. Looking at -those creatures diving and splashing somehow reminds me of it. I haven't -seen the sea for months." - -"Oh, you poor boy!" I exclaimed, jumping up. "Why didn't you say so at -first--at the beginning of the day? I never once thought of it. Of -course we ought to have been beside the sea on our silver -wedding-day--the sea that married us in the beginning--or else on it. -Let us get down to Swanston Street at once, and take a St. Kilda tram. -There is time to reach the pier before the sun goes down, and we can -stay there till dark, and dine at the Esplanade. It will be a nice long -ride, and you can have your pipe on the dummy as we go." - -"All right," he said, with renewed alacrity. "Mind you, Polly, I -couldn't have enjoyed the day more than I have done, so far as it has -gone; but a sniff of brine to top up with will just make it perfect." - -So we had our sniff of brine. It took three-quarters of an hour to get -it, but the drive was delightful in the fresh evening air; the rain had -laid the dust of that dustiest of Melbourne roads, and C-spring -barouches are not easier to travel in than the cable tramcars on it. Tom -had the comfort of his pipe, allowable on the dummy; and the scent of -his good tobacco, which the breeze carried from me, was a scent I loved -for its associations' sake. When we got to St. Kilda the sun was low; no -effect of atmosphere and sea water could have been more lovely. It was -only bay water, to be sure, but it was salt, and it sufficed. We called -in at the hotel to order our dinner, and walked down and out to the end -of the pier, and sat there silently until the ruddy full moon rose. At -night, when all was white and shining, we returned there and sat for an -hour more, hand in hand. - -"What it must be," said Tom, soliloquising, "outside!" - -"Ah-h!" I sighed deeply. The same thought had been in both our minds all -through the silence which he had broken with his remark. If he had not -made it, I should have done so. In imagination we were "outside" -together, as in our youth; the scent of sea in the brisk air had acted -on us like the familiar touch of a mesmerist on a subject long -surrendered to his power; the nostalgia of the seafarer, the -sea-lover--which is a thing no other person can understand--had taken -hold of us; it was as if some long silent mother-voice called to us -across the bay, "Come home, come home!" - -Near us, sheltered in the angle of the pier, a bunch of sail boats -tugged gently at their ropes; the flopping, squelching sound made by the -run of the tide between and under them was sweet in our ears, like an -old song. A little way off some yachts of the local club lay each at its -own moorings, a hull and a bare pole, ink-black on the shining water. -Tom was no yachtsman, of course; he even had a contempt for the modern -egg-shell craft, all sail and spar, in which the young men out of the -shops and offices raced for cups on summer Saturdays; they were as -children's toys in his estimation. But a boat is a boat, and, feeling as -I did, and thinking of the remark he had made in the Aquarium, and how I -had unaccountably forgotten what we ought to have done on our silver -wedding-day, I said-- - -"Why shouldn't we have a silver honeymoon, and spend it at sea?" - -Though he did not answer at once, and though his face was turned from me -towards an incoming steamer, a distant streak of shadow sprinkled with -lights, that he was trying to identify, I knew that he jumped straight -at the suggestion with all his heart. - -"Hm-m," he mused; "ha-hm-m. That's not a bad idea of yours, Polly. I -daresay it might be done, if you think you'd like it. We have no -children to tie us at home--Harry would keep an eye on the pigs and -things--it would do us all the good in the world--by Jove, yes!" He sat -erect and alert. "Why, the very thought of it makes me feel twenty years -younger. I don't see why we shouldn't have a silver honeymoon while we -are about it. But what sort of a trip do you fancy? Portland and -Warrnambool? Tasmania? New Zealand? I'm afraid Europe is a bit too large -an order." - -"Nothing of that sort at all," I urged; "but something that we can do -all by ourselves, without being interfered with." I pointed to the boats -near us. "A yachting cruise to some of the places I have never seen, if -you could find a strong, homely sort of yacht, with bulwarks and a cabin -in it. Perhaps a hired man or two--yes, that would even give us greater -freedom--if there was a place for them to sleep in away from us." - -I enlarged upon my idea, while he listened and nodded, proposing -amendments here and there; then he jumped up in his resolute way, -lifting me with him. - -"Let us get home and to bed," said he, "and I'll be up first thing in -the morning to see about it. We must save this weather and the moon--the -honeymoon, Polly." - -We bustled back to town. And whom should we meet in the tram but an old -brother salt, who knew exactly what we wanted and where it was to be -had--a stout, yawl-rigged craft with something beside lead keel under -water, not too smart to look at, but able to travel, and warranted safe -"outside" as no ordinary pleasure yacht could be. One day sufficed to -stock this vessel with our requirements, and on the morning of the next -we set sail, with one quiet man for crew, and a minute dinghy behind us, -bound for no port in particular, and to no programme--determined to be -free for once, if we never were again. The children thought us quite -silly, naturally. I believe Harry felt it something of a hardship to -have to give up Emily's society occasionally for the sake of the pigs, -and I am sure, though I did not hear them, that Phyllis and Lily made -remarks on their poor dear mother's erratic fancies, and the way poor -father gave in to them. Phyllis took the opportunity of my absence to -"settle up the house," as she called it--meaning my house, and that -matters there had fallen into a sad state since she had ceased to -superintend them. - -But we were emancipated now. We were out of school. I was able to -wear--what they had considered inappropriate for years--a hat to keep -off the hot sea sunshine, which burns old faces as badly as young ones; -and I could fish, and paddle barefoot, and sing, and talk nonsense to -Tom to my heart's content, with no sense of appearing ridiculous or -undignified to anybody. The crew was an old Bendigo hand, about the age -of my father, devoted to us both; and Tom was like a boy again, with the -tiller in his hand. What ages it was since he had steered a sailing -boat, of any sort or size! Yet even I could tell the difference in a -moment, as soon as he took the helm. Not only did he make the yawl do -exactly what he wanted, but he seemed to know exactly what _she_ wanted -as well. It was the same sort of sympathy as that between a perfect -rider and a horse that thoroughly understands and trusts him. Some -people--good seamen in everything else--can never steer like that, -although they may have been a lifetime at it. It is an instinct, like -good riding, inherited and not acquired. Tom's people had been sailors -since the Battle of the Nile. - -How he _did_ love it, to be sure! And _what_ a holiday that was! We had -our little discomforts of various kinds, and I was seasick for a night -and seedy all the day afterwards; but these trifles were of no account -in the sum of our vast enjoyment, and cannot even be remembered now. -Looking back on that cruise--that last cruise--perhaps the very last in -life--it is one idyllic dream, simply. I find it hard to believe that it -could have happened in such a prosaic world. - -I daresay that much of the fairyland feeling was due to weather. There -is no weather on earth like Australian weather for making holiday -in--that is, when it is good. What fell to us on this memorable occasion -was as good as good could be--fine and fresh by day, calm and beautiful -by night, with various effects of moonlight, each sweeter than the rest. -The beginnings of the days were the best of them, perhaps. We went to -bed betimes--in that not too spacious chamber of ours between the big -and the little masts--and so were ready to see the sunrise, to bathe -ourselves in the clean, sharp, early morning air, to set about clearing -up the cabin, airing the mattresses on deck, frying the eggs and bacon -or newly caught fish, and cooking the coffee over the spirit stove, -before the land people were astir, every vein in our bodies thrilling to -the salt breeze, tingling with health, and our appetites keen as razors. -Later, we would visit the shore for provisions, for newspapers, for a -hotel meal, to send inquiring telegrams to our family and await replies, -to amuse ourselves with a ramble in the bush or through the bay -watering-places whose summer season had ebbed away from them. Later -still, I lay prone on deck, snoozing over a novel, while Tom and the -crew sailed the boat, and smoked, and talked shop in contented growls, a -couple of sentences at a time. Then tea, and washing up, and the fishing -lines got out; and the sweet twilight that, when it became darkness, was -too cold to sit in; and the lamp lit in the little -cabin--yawns--bed--the stirless sleep of nerves at peace and digestion -in perfect order. - -It was almost the same "outside" as in--not a cat's-paw squall molested -us. There was sea enough for good sea-sailing, but not enough to wet me -or my little house below--not till we got to Warrnambool, where, being -weather-bound for a day or two, we had the joy of seeing great breakers -again. They thundered on the rocky shore like cannons going off; they -flung foam over the breakwater; they would not let the Flinders come in. -We sat on a brown boulder a whole morning and a whole afternoon to look -at and listen to them, as one would listen to some archangel of a -Paderewski. - -Ah me, how happy we were! The second honeymoon, like the second -wedding-day, was miles better than the first. We married for love, if -two people ever did, not having fifty pounds between us, but my old -bridegroom was a truer lover than my young one. He said the same of his -old bride. We were like travellers that have climbed to a noble -mountain-top and sit down to rest and survey the arduous road by which -they came--all rosy in the bloom of sunset--and the poor things still -struggling up, not seeing what they head for. I never had such a rest in -my life before, and we had never, in all our twenty-five years of dear -companionship, been at such perfect peace together. There was only one -little cloud, and that passed in a moment. Tom said--it was a mere -thoughtless jest, for he did not mean to be unkind--that our divine -tranquillity was due to there being no person near for me to be jealous -of. I ought to have laughed at such an obviously absurd remark, but I am -dreadfully sensitive to anything like injustice, and was foolish enough -to feel hurt that he could say such a thing, even in fun. _I_ jealous! -I may have my faults--nobody is perfect in this world--but at least I -cannot be justly accused of condescending to petty ones of that sort. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -GRANDMAMMA. - - -"Good-morning, Grandmamma!" - -I was in my kitchen after breakfast, seeing about the dinner--calmly -slicing French beans, because it was Monday morning and Jane was helping -the washwoman--when I was suddenly accosted in this extraordinary way. -With a jump that might have caused me to cut my fingers, I turned my -head, and there in the doorway stood my son-in-law, Edmund Juke, panting -from his bicycle, and grinning idiotically, as if he had said something -very funny. By what he had said, and by the expression of his face, and -by seeing him miles away from his consulting-room at that hour of the -day, I knew, of course, what had happened. My heart was in my mouth. - -"What--what--you don't say--not really?" I gasped, scattering the beans, -cut and uncut, together about the floor as I sprang to meet him. "Why, -it isn't nearly time yet!" - -"Oh yes, it is," said he. "Everything is all right. The finest boy you -ever saw, and she doing as well as possible. I would not let any one but -myself bring you the good news, Mater dear"--and here he kissed me, more -affectionately than usual--"ill as I could spare the time. I knew you'd -be easier in your mind, too----" - -"But I am _not_ easy in my mind," I broke in, excessively concerned -about my child, and beginning to see that I had not been fairly treated -in the matter. "I am quite sure it is premature, whatever you may say. -Phyllis distinctly gave me to understand that it was a month off, at -least. Otherwise should I be here?" - -"It is an easy thing to make mistakes about, as you know. I can assure -you there is nothing wrong in any way. You must allow a medical -man--two medical men, for Errington attended her--to be the judge of -that," said he, with the airs a young doctor gives himself when he has -begun to make a name. - -I was indeed thankful to hear him say so, but still I could not quite -understand it. I wondered if it were possible--but no, it could not be! -The cruel suspicion having entered my mind, however, I felt obliged to -speak of it. - -"I am not to suppose, am I, that Phyllis _wished_ to deceive her own -mother--and on such a point?" - -Edmund at once replied, stormily, that I was certainly not to suppose -any such preposterous thing; but he protested over much, I thought, and -grew red in the face as he did so. I thought it not improbable that _he_ -had suggested my being put off the scent--he, who seemed to have known -just when the baby was to be expected; afterwards I was sure of it. My -own dear girl would have been incapable of such an idea. - -I asked Edmund the hour at which the event had taken place. He said at a -little before three that morning. It was now between nine and ten--as I -pointed out. He said they had all been glad of a little sleep after -their excitement, and that he had come as soon as he could get away. He -had also ridden at racing pace, averaging I don't know how many miles an -hour. No, the buggy would not have been quicker, even with a pair, and -he had wanted his wheel for refreshment and exercise. Of course he could -not take me back on it, but there was no hurry about that. He had left -Phyllis sleeping as soundly as a top, and the longer she was undisturbed -the better. - -"Certainly," I said, with rigid face and shaking heart. "And it is right -that I should be there to see that she is undisturbed. I ought to have -been there _hours_ ago, Edmund, and I can't _think_ why you did not send -for me--her own mother--the very _first_ person who should have been -informed." - -He began to make all sorts of lame excuses. - -"You see, Mater dear, the telegraph offices are not open on Sundays." - -"Was it Sunday? So long ago as yesterday? And where were the buggy and -the bicycle--not to speak of the trains?" - -"The buggy and the bicycle were there, but I had to send the groom -hunting for Errington, and of course I could not leave her myself. There -was not a soul to take a message to you, Mater dear. Besides, there was -no earthly use in giving you an upset for nothing. We soon saw that -everything was going on beautifully--otherwise, of _course_, you would -have been fetched at once--and so we thought you might as well be spared -all the worry--you would have worried frightfully, you know--and that we -would give you a pleasant surprise when it was all over. And now you -don't seem half grateful to us for being so thoughtful about you." - -He laughed at this poor joke. I could not laugh. My heart was too full. - -"Poor, poor, _poor_ girl!" I passionately exclaimed. "To face that trial -for the first time--terrified to death, naturally----" - -"Oh dear, no," he interposed, in his flippant way. "I am proud to inform -you that Phyllis conducted herself like a perfect lady. She was as calm -as possible." - -"How can you tell how calm she was?" I thundered at him. "You know -nothing about it, though you are a doctor. _I_ know--I know what she had -to go through! And no one near her to help her with a word of comfort, -except a hired person--one of your precious hospital nurses that are -mere iron-nerved machines--women who might as well be men for all the -feelings they've got!" - -"But she had--she had," cried Edmund, hastily. "She had my mother near -her--one of the kindest old souls that ever breathed." - -"_What?_" - -I stared at him, petrified with astonishment and indignation. _His_ -mother assisting at the confinement of _my_ daughter! And _I_ shut out! -I could not believe it for the moment--that they would deliberately put -such an insult upon me. - -Edmund said it was not done deliberately, but was a pure accident. "It -just happened," he said, "that she chanced to be in the house yesterday. -She came in after morning church, as she often does, and seeing that -something was up----" - -"What--as early as yesterday morning!" I burst out, thoroughly and -justifiably angry now, and not caring to hide it. "You mean to say -Phyllis was taken ill in the _morning_, Edmund, and you did not let me -know? Oh, this is too much!" - -Of course he hastened to excuse himself--with what I feel sure, though I -am sorry to say it, was a barefaced lie. He declared she was not taken -ill in the morning--not until quite late in the day--but that she was a -little restless and nervous, and his mother had stayed to cheer her. - -"Mother is such a bright, calm-minded, capable old body," he said--as if -I were a dull, hysterical fool--"and she has had such swarms upon -swarms of children, and such oceans of sick-nursing, and Phyllis is so -fond of her, and as you were not get-at-able, Mater dear----" - -Oh, it was sickening! I hadn't patience to listen to him, with his -"Mater dears" and his hypocritical pretences. I saw clearly that it had -been what Harry would call a put-up thing; he had preferred old Mrs. -Juke--a woman of no education, with a figure like a sack of flour tied -round the middle--to me. I suppose his friends had been twitting him -about the tyrannical mother-in-law, in the vulgar conventional way; or -he had been afraid that I would dispute his authority and orders in the -sick-room; or perhaps, to do him justice--he had thought nothing of an -affair which was in his daily experience, although it was his own wife -concerned. In any case, I was sure that Phyllis had not been to blame. -However fond she might be of Mrs. Juke--and probably she feigned -affection to some extent, for her husband's sake --it was her own -mother she would long for at such a time. And her mother she should -have, or I'd know the reason why. - -"It is not my fault that I was un-get-at-able yesterday," I said to -Edmund, quietly but firmly. "At any rate I am get-at-able now. I see you -are in a fidget to be after your patients--go, my dear, and tell her I -will be with her in an hour or two. Oh, I daresay there _is_ no -hurry--from your point of view; I am of a different opinion. I am a -woman--_and_ a mother; I understand these things. You don't--and never -could--not if you were fifty times a doctor." - -"All right," he returned cheerfully, or with assumed cheerfulness. "I am -sure she will be delighted to see you. Only we shall have to keep her -very quiet for the next few days--not let her talk and argue and excite -herself, you know----" - -I laughed--I could not help it--and waved him off. I told him to get -himself some beer, or whatever he fancied, and not to suppose that he -could teach me mother's duties at my time of life. And in a few minutes -he went flying back to town, and I sought my dear husband, where he was -busy digging in the vegetable garden, and flung myself weeping into his -grubby arms. - -Tom, too, was quite overcome. Not nearly so surprised as I expected him -to be, but tremulous in his agitation, and almost speechless at first. -For a tough old sailor as he is, he has the softest heart I know. - -"My little girl!" he murmured huskily, and cleared his throat again and -again. "And it was only the other day that she was a baby herself. Makes -us feel very ancient, don't it?" - -"_No_," I returned emphatically. "I don't feel ancient in the _very_ -least. And you, my dear, are in your prime. It is simply an absurdity -that we should be grandparents." - -"Well, it does seem rather ridiculous in your case," he rejoined--my -sweet old fellow!--"with your brown hair and bright eyes and figure -straight as a dart. But I----" - -"But you," I insisted, "are just as handsome as ever you were--worth a -dozen priggish little whipper-snappers like Edmund Juke." - -"Oh! What has Edmund Juke been doing?" - -"He let her be ill yesterday--_all_ yesterday--and never sent for me to -be with her!" I sobbed, feeling sure of sympathy here, if nowhere else. -"Did you ever know of a mother being treated so before?" - -But Tom--even Tom--was unsympathetic and disappointing. He did not -exclaim and protest on my behalf--did not seem to see how unnatural it -was, and what a slight had been put upon me--but just patted my shoulder -and stroked my hair, as if I were a mere fretful child. - -"If you ask me," he said, when I pressed him to speak his mind, "I must -say that I think they showed their sense, Polly. And it's a great relief -to me, my dear, on your account. You are so highly strung, pet, that you -can't stand things like other people. You'd have been worse than -Phyllis. Whereas a placid old Gamp like Mother Juke----" - -"_Tom!_" I broke in sharply. "_Who_ told you that Mother Juke was -there?" - -"Nobody," said he, with a disconcerted look. "I only thought it likely -that she might be. Was she not?" - -"She was. But I want to know why you concluded that she was, when I had -not mentioned the fact?" - -"I didn't conclude it. I only knew that she was keeping an eye on the -child, being so experienced, and living so handy." - -"How did you know?" - -"Ted told me--in a casual way--a good bit ago--I forget exactly -when----" - -"Tom----" - -But Tom pulled out his watch hastily, plainly anxious to avoid the -corner he felt himself being pushed into. - -"Look here, Polly, if you want to catch that train, and have to pack -your bag before you start, there's not a minute to lose. Now that she -knows you know, she'll be looking out for you--wanting to show her baby -to her mother, bless her little heart! And a fine boy too. I'm glad the -first is a boy--though I'm sure I don't know why I should be, for the -girls are far and away the best, to my thinking--girls that grow up to -be good and pretty women, treasures to the lucky men who get them--like -you." - -Silly fellow! But he means it all. There are no empty pretences about -Tom. To him there is one perfect being in the world, and that's his -wife. It comforted me to feel that I was appreciated in one quarter, -whatever I might be in others, and the mention of the baby made me -forget everything but my longing to have him in my arms. - -"I will go at once," I said, "and you must come too, dearest. You must -support me against the Juke faction. You must see that your child's -mother has her rights." - -"Oh, rights be blowed!" he replied, rather rudely. "There's nobody will -dream of disputing them. You don't know what a humble-minded, unselfish, -dear old soul that mother of Ted's is; she wouldn't deny the rights of -a sucking-pig--let alone an important person like you." - -"Your mind is always running on pigs," I laughed. "And I am sure that -old creature is just like a great sow fattened up for the Agricultural -Show. She grunts as she walks--if you can call it walking--and you -almost want bullocks to get her out of an armchair when she has once -sunk into it." - -"Well, that isn't her fault," Tom commented, grave as a judge. - -"Of course it isn't," I acquiesced. "She is getting into years now." - -"So are we all." - -"Yes. But she is fifteen years older than I am, if she's a day." - -"Fifteen years'll fly over _us_ before we know it, Polly. And then _you_ -won't like to be crowed over, I'll bet." - -"Who's crowing? I merely state a fact. She is." - -"Then all the more reason why you should be grateful to her." - -"Grateful to her for usurping my rights----" - -"Nonsense!" - -He had one of his short moods on him, when it is better not to argue -with him. Besides, there was no time for argument. He led the way to the -house, pulling down his shirt-sleeves. He said he would have a wash and -put on his coat and take me to Phyllis's house, and see the baby if -allowed to do so; but he would not promise to stay more than a few -minutes. He did not want, he said, to put them about, when already they -had so much to attend to. Talk of humble-mindedness! His -humble-mindedness makes me want to shake him sometimes. Off the sea he -seemed to forget that he was a commander--a character that Nature -intended him to maintain, wherever he was. One had but to look at him to -see that. - -I had to make so many preparations for his comfort and for the proper -safeguarding of Lily in my absence, which I supposed likely to run into -a week or two, that it was noon before I could be ready to set forth. -So I yielded to Tom's suggestion that we should have our usual one -o'clock dinner before starting, and drive ourselves to town in the -afternoon. He wanted to take in the buggy for stores. He could see me -"comfortably settled," he said, and do his necessary business at the -same time. - -Alas! How little we anticipated the circumstances of the return journey! -No one could have been happier than I, as I sat beside him behind our -fast-trotting Parson--we called him Parson because of his peculiar -rusty-black colour and a white mark on his chest--talking of the -grandchild we were going to see, and all the family affairs involved in -his arrival. It never crossed our minds for a moment that he was -bringing, not peace, but a sword. - -In our excess of considerateness we drove to livery stables, and there -put up our trap; then we walked quietly to Phyllis's house, and Tom -slunk away somewhere, like a rat into a hole, as soon as we were -admitted. His anxiety to be "out of the road" was really undignified. -Of course I made straight for my daughter's room. - -The large dining-room was full of waiting patients; I counted three -women and a child as I passed up the hall. Whatever Edmund's faults, he -is one of the cleverest and most sought after doctors in Melbourne. I -have heard Mary Welshman and others boasting about Fitzherbert, and -Groom, and Sewell, and the rest, but not one of them is to be named in -the same day with my son-in-law. Phyllis was obliged to use a little -room on the first floor for meals, on account of the lower part of the -house being so overrun; and the poor parlourmaid spent her entire time -in answering the door. - -Creeping upstairs, with my noiseless, sick-room step, I met old Mother -Juke, as Tom calls her, lumping down, with the gait of a rheumatic -elephant. She seemed to shake the very street. How my poor child could -stand such a woman about her, at such a time, I could not imagine; it -would have driven me into a fever. Of course she is kind and -well-meaning enough--she can't help her age and her physical -infirmities--I know that. And it is quite true that she has been a great -nurse in her day. But her day is past. - -"Good-morning, Mrs. Juke," I said pleasantly, as we met and paused on a -little landing at the turn of the stairs, "you are here early." - -Scarcely had I opened my mouth when the mountain fell on me, as it were; -the old thing put her huge arms about my neck and kissed me. I have -always objected to being slobbered over by comparative strangers, and I -did not return the kiss; nevertheless I treated her with the courtesy -that I felt due to my son-in-law's mother. - -"And so," I said, smiling, "you have all been conspiring together to -steal a march on me! You have been jumping my claim, as the miners -say--defrauding a poor woman of her natural rights." - -"Nothing of the sort, my dear," she replied, in her fat voice--and if -there is one thing that I dislike more than another is to be -"my-deared" in this promiscuous fashion. "You were best out of it, with -your feeling heart. It would only have upset you, my dear, and that -would have upset her; and then Ted would have been in a way, and Captain -Braye would have blamed us. I am sure _he_ is grateful, if nobody else -is." - -"He is nothing of the sort," I cried, flaming. "My husband is perfectly -astounded at the way I have been shut out. He never heard of such a -thing as a mother being set aside at such a time." - -She was at a loss for an answer to this, so fell back upon praises of -the baby and of Phyllis's satisfactory condition. There was nothing, she -said, that could give me the faintest cause for uneasiness, nor had been -from the first--nor would be, provided she were kept quiet and free from -all excitement. And we ought to be humbly thankful that this was so--to -feel nothing but joy that she had done so excellently, and that the -child was so strong and beautiful. - -"That is all very well," I remarked. "But that is not the point. What I -want to know is--and I intend to have an answer--whose doing it was that -I was not sent for yesterday morning?--that I was kept in utter -ignorance of the most important event that has ever occurred in my -family--when, for all you people did to prevent it, my daughter might -have died without my seeing her again!" - -We were now in the little first-floor sitting-room, just off the stairs. -It was between three and four, and the luncheon things were not cleared -away. Indeed the house seemed completely disorganised, having no one to -look after it. Old Mrs. Juke, who did not seem to notice this, stood -just within the door, puffing like a porpoise, and trying to look -dignified, which was quite impossible. - -"I am very sorry you take it in this way," she said, in a hoity-toity -tone. "We may have made a mistake, but, if we did, we made it with the -best intentions. All we thought of was to save you useless pain. We -knew your nervous, anxious temperament, and how keenly you feel anything -affecting your children; and so we decided----" - -"It was not a matter for you to decide," I broke in, with natural -asperity. "I am neither a baby nor an idiot. I have at least as much -sense as any one in this house--I should be sorry for myself, indeed, if -I had not--and I prefer to attend to my own business, if it's all the -same to you. Whether I should be here, or whether I should not, was for -_me_ to say--for me and for my daughter. She, I am very certain, had no -part in shutting me out; and she ought to have been considered, if I was -not." - -"It was she," said Mrs. Juke, "who wished it most. Her one desire was to -spare you." - -"I don't believe it." - -"I am sorry if you don't believe it." The old thing shook like -blancmange in hot weather. "I can only say that it is perfectly true." - -"I will ask her if it is true--that she wished to have strangers with -her in place of her own mother." - -I started to cross the landing to Phyllis's room, and my teeth were set, -and my heart was thumping with an emotion that I could scarcely -control--but I need not say I did control it. Mrs. Juke hung on to me to -stop me, pleading that Phyllis and the baby were fast asleep together, -and must not be disturbed; and I asked her how she, who had been a -mother fifteen times, could insult a mother by supposing that she would -be less careful of a sick child than anybody else. If I had gone in -alone I am sure she would not have heard me--Tom says that I walk about -the house as if shod with feathers--but Mrs. Juke would come too, and -there was no hushing that solid tread. I saw my darling start up from -the pillow, frightened out of her sleep by the noise, and the flush come -into her cheeks. And Mrs. Juke cried "There!" reproachfully, as if it -had been my fault. - -At the same moment another stranger came out of Edmund's dressing-room, -and turned upon me like a perfect fury. - -"I must ask you, madam, to be so good as to be quiet," she said. "The -doctor's orders are----" - -But I did not wait to be told by her what the doctor's orders were; I -simply took her by the shoulders, ran her back into the dressing-room, -and locked the door upon her. If Edmund's mother liked to be rude to me, -she could, but I was not going to take impudence from a hospital nurse. -I cannot understand the passion young doctors have for those conceited, -overbearing women. This creature was not even married. What, I wonder, -would _my_ mother have thought of a single woman attending a lady in her -confinement? I call it scandalous. - -When I had got rid of her, I requested Mrs. Juke to retire also, which -she did. I apologised to her if I had said anything that seemed -discourteous in the heat of the moment, for there was a watery look -about her eyes as if she were feeling rather hurt; and I said to her in -a gentle way, that, if she would only for one instant imagine herself in -my place, she could not help admitting that I was more than justified. I -suggested that it would be a kindness to us if she would see what the -servants were about, judging from appearances, they were entirely -neglecting their duties. I mentioned the state of the lunch-table, and -Phyllis broke in to explain that Ted had begun work so late that he had -not yet found time to come up for anything to eat. - -"Never you mind," I said to her, soothing her. "_You_ are not to trouble -your little head about these matters. I am here, darling, and you can -rest from all housekeeping worries now." - -And so at last I had my treasure to myself. She was very fluttery, and -cried a little--which I did not wonder at--but soon composed herself, -and proudly displayed the little one cuddled to her dear breast under -the bedclothes. He was a lovely baby (and at this time of writing is the -most beautiful boy you ever saw--the image of me, Tom says); and I -felt, when I took him into my arms, as if my own happy young mother-days -had come over again. - -"Now, Phyllis dear," I said to her, as I laid him back into his nest, "I -don't want to bother or disturb you in the slightest degree, but I _do_ -want to know whether it was your wish, as Mrs. Juke declares it was----" - -However, before I could get the question out, or she could answer, the -door opened; and there stood the nurse, looking at me with her nasty, -hard eyes, as if I were some venomous reptile; and Errington was behind -her. She had actually been to fetch him--he lived almost next door--in -her rage with me for having had the firmness to keep her in her place. -He was one of these modern young doctors who swear by the new ways, and -of course he believed her tales and took her part against me. - -"Mrs. Braye," he began, trying to be very professional and superior, "I -must beg of you to leave my patient's room. The nurse has my orders not -to allow her to talk or to be agitated in any way. I do not wish her to -see people at present." - -"I will take care," I answered, with dignity, "that she does not see -people." - -"Excuse me--she is seeing people now." - -"I suppose you are not aware," I said, very quietly, "that I am your -patient's mother? It seems to be taken for granted in this house that -such a person does not exist." - -"I am aware of it," he was good enough to admit; "I recognise the fact, -Mrs. Braye, and sympathise with your feelings, believe me. But, if you -will allow me to say so, you are so excitable--you have such a quick, -nervous temperament----" - -"And who has dared to discuss my temperament with you?" I demanded -furiously--for this was the last straw--an utter stranger, a boy young -enough to have been my son! "Where is Dr. Juke? I will ask _him_ to -explain. Mrs. Juke"--she was lurking in the passage outside--"will you -be kind enough to send Edmund to me? After all, he is the medical -authority here." - -Edmund came hurrying up, and I never saw a man look so much like a -whipped dog. He had not the courage of a mouse in the presence of his -colleague. He spread out his hands with a helpless air--said we were all -under Errington's orders, and that he no longer had a say in -anything--in short, left me undefended to be a laughing-stock to those -people. - -I flew downstairs to find Tom, whom I had left in a little office behind -the consulting-room, waiting until I summoned him to see the baby. I -knew what he would think of the way I was being treated, and how he -would vindicate and uphold me. But here I was again frustrated. The -aroma of his strong tobacco was in the air; the ashes from his pipe were -still hot in the tray; but he had vanished. Rushing back into the hall, -I collided with that pert little parlourmaid who answers the door. She -had come to tell me, she said, with an ill-disguised smirk, that Captain -Braye had gone to do some business in the town and would return in the -course of an hour or two. She must have seen that something was the -matter, but she was just as callous as the rest of them. - -I said "Very well," as cheerfully as I could, and sought the only refuge -I knew of--the drawing-room on the first floor. It was dark with drawn -blinds and the tree ferns on the balcony, but not so dark that I could -not see the thick dust on everything; and there were flowers in the -vases that literally stank with decay and the bad water their stalks -were rotting in. Feeling sure that I was safe in this deserted and -neglected place, I closed the door behind me, sank upon a sofa, took out -my pocket-handkerchief, and had a good cry. Any mother, hurt to the -heart as I had been, would have done the same. - -And while I was in the middle of it I heard a gentle creak, and the -rustle of a soft gown, and a step like velvet on the carpet--Edmund -would have a Brussels carpet, instead of the polished boards and rugs -that I advised. Looking up, alarmed and ashamed, whom should I see but -dear little Emily Blount, with her kind, sweet face, full of the love -and sympathy that I was so much in need of. I had always known that she -was one in a thousand, but never had I felt so thankful that my Harry -had made so wise a choice. She had stolen away from her school to hear -how Phyllis was, and, instead of pushing in where she was not wanted, -had crept like a mouse to the empty drawing-room, to wait there until -she could intercept somebody going up or down the stairs. What an -example of good feeling, of good manners, of good breeding and good -taste! I held out my arms to her, and she ran to them, and kissed and -hugged me, crying out to know what was the matter, in the utmost -concern. - -Well, I told her what was the matter--I told her everything; I had to -relieve my overcharged feelings in some way, and, Tom being absent, I -could not have found a truer sympathiser. Words cannot express the -comfort it was to me to know that she would be my real daughter some -day. - -"Emmie," I said to her, as she sat beside me with her arm round my -waist, "promise me that, when _you_ have a baby, you will send for me to -be with you--and send for me _in time._" - -She blushed perfectly scarlet--which was silly of her, being a B.A., and -of course not like the ordinary ignorant bread-and-butter miss--but she -laid her little face into my neck in the most tender, confiding way. - -"It is what I should wish," she whispered, "if only my own dear mother -would not think----" - -"Your own mother," I broke in, "has only had you, and I have had four -children. I know much more of those matters than she does, and _you_ -know from experience, having been in the house all through Harry's -illness, what a good nurse I am." I had seen Mrs. Blount once or -twice--a sharp little fidgety woman, who would get dreadfully on the -nerves of an invalid who was at all sensitive. "Besides," I added, "own -mothers as a rule are a mistake on these occasions. They are -over-anxious, and the personal interest is too strong." - -"Oh, I think so--I do think so," she said, agreeing with me at once. "It -is too hard upon them both, unless they are cold-hearted creatures. And -I would much, much rather have you, dearest Mrs. Braye, if I am ever so -happy--so fortunate----" - -"As you will be," I broke in, warmly embracing her. "I am going to talk -to Harry about that little house which he has fallen in love with. I -don't believe in young people wasting the best years of their lives in -waiting for each other." - -We had a nice talk, and I told her how well Phyllis was doing--wonderful -as it was, when one considered the mismanagement that prevailed--and -described the beauty of the baby. Emily said she was satisfied, having -such a report on my authority, and stole away as she had come, with no -noise or fuss. I wanted her to stay with me until Tom returned, but she -pleaded her duties, and I am not the one to dissuade in such a case. -When she was gone I sat alone for a few minutes, calmed and braced, -thinking what I should do; then I heard a step, and Edmund came in. - -"Oh, _here_ you are!" he exclaimed, with forced hilarity. "I've been -hunting for you everywhere. Look here, Mater dear, I'm so awfully -sorry----" - -But I was prepared for these counterfeit apologies, which had no sorrow -in them. I cut him short by inquiring mildly whether Captain Braye was -in the house. - -"Not yet--he's not back yet--he will be soon. But look here, Mrs. Braye, -honestly, I wouldn't have had it happen for a thousand pounds." - -"Then may I ask you, Edmund, kindly to have my portmanteau sent to the -stables? I will join my husband there." - -"No, no," he urged, in a great fluster. "You are not going to leave us. -We sha'n't let you. Your portmanteau is gone to the spare room. You will -stay with Phyllis and the baby, and my mother will go. She is putting -her things on now." - -"Then go and stop her _instantly_," I cried. "What! Do you suppose I -want her to be slighted and humiliated because I am? Do you want to set -it about everywhere that I turned your mother out of her own son's -house? I have no place here, Edmund--I had forgotten it for the moment, -but I shall not forget it again; she has. Go at once and tell her that, -if she doesn't stay, Phyllis will have no one." - -"And why can't you both stay?" he demanded foolishly. - -"My dear boy," I laughed, "if you think that possible, after what I have -just experienced, you must have a very queer opinion of me. I am not -proud, nor prone to take offence, but one must draw the line somewhere. -Two perfect strangers have turned me out of my daughter's room and -insulted me before my daughter's face, apparently with your approval. I -wonder what the captain will think when he hears of it? It will rather -astonish him, I fancy. Even if I consented to expose myself to further -treatment of the kind, I am quite sure he would not. But I am not the -person to force myself where I am not wanted, Edmund; you ought to know -that by this time." - -And yet I pined to stay. And when he pleaded that they had all done for -the best, according to their lights, and tried to persuade me that the -entire household, including Phyllis, was overwhelmed with grief because -I was offended, I wondered whether I could, with any justice to myself -and Tom, pocket the indignities that I had received. I said to my -son-in-law-- - -"Let us understand each other. When you ask me to remain, do you -contemplate keeping on that nurse who was so insolent to me?" - -"Oh," said he, "I don't think she meant to be insolent. She's a -first-class nurse. Very strict ideas about duty, but that's a fault on -the right side, isn't it? Errington got her for us, and as he's -attending Phyllis----" - -"He would still go on attending Phyllis, I suppose?" - -"Oh, I suppose so. Why not?" - -"No reason why not, of course, if you wish it. Only you can hardly blame -me if I prefer not to meet either of them again. Good-bye, Edmund. I -have a little shopping to do. And I hope," I burst out, breaking from -him and running down the stairs, "I hope that when your children grow -up, they won't cast you off in your old age as mine have done." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -VINDICATED. - - -Naturally, I did not see much of the Juke household after the affair of -the baby's birth. There is nothing so sad, and so disgraceful to the -parties concerned, as discord in families; but this was no vulgar -quarrel, although several officious busybodies regarded it as such. I -merely took the very broad hint that my son-in-law and his mother had -given me, to the effect that Phyllis by her marriage had passed into -their possession and no more belonged to me. Moreover, one must have -_some_ self-respect, as I represented to Tom, who either could not or -would not recognise the facts of the case, remaining stupidly impervious -to arguments that would have convinced a child; and a proper sense of -dignity is an element of good breeding which I have inherited with my -blood--fortunately or otherwise, as the case may be. - -But I was just as anxious, and even more so, to be assured that all was -well. _My_ feelings towards my own kith and kin can know no change. -Therefore I sent Tom to Melbourne every morning to make inquiries. -Perhaps he would have gone in any case, for his own satisfaction, but he -was not the messenger I should have chosen had there been a choice. -Unfortunately, he was the only one available. Without, I am sure, -meaning to be disloyal to me, he would stay there half the day, smoke -with Edmund, lunch with Mrs. Juke, pay Phyllis visits in her room, and -generally allow himself to be cajoled into forgetting the actual state -of things--making me cheap as well as himself, and putting me into a -most false and ignominious position. And then he would come back laden -with "best loves" and "when was I coming to see them again?" and "Baby -was wondering what he had done to be deserted by his dear grandmamma," -and rubbish of that sort, which any one but he must have seen was -simply insulting under the circumstances, and which sometimes drove me -wild. His weak amiability, in season and out of season, and his habit of -taking everybody to be as goodnatured as himself, made him incapable of -perceiving that a gross outrage had been committed, for which formal -apologies were due. I argued the matter with him for hours at a time, -and had my labour for my pains; he would never positively admit that I -was right, simply because he could not understand the point of view. The -silence that gives consent was the most I got, and I was not satisfied -with that--from him. And so we fell out rather frequently--we, who had -never had a disagreement in our lives--and I was very unhappy. - -Nevertheless, I was not going to set foot in Edmund Juke's house until -proper reparation had been made. It was not for a woman of my years and -standing to bow down to a boy and girl and an ignorant old person, who, -I believe, began life in a baker's shop, or some such place. An apology -I intended to have before I would receive them back to favour. - -And they did not apologise. It seems to me a petty sort of thing not to -frankly own it when one is in the wrong, but very few people are -large-minded enough to apprehend the difference between false pride and -true. As a rule, they think it derogatory to dignity--a "come-down" so -to speak--to confess to being human and therefore liable to error; -whereas you cannot have a better proof of moral superiority. Edmund and -Phyllis were no exceptions to this rule. They would do anything short of -the one thing they should have done. When the time came for the baby to -be baptized, they wrote a joint letter, couched in extravagantly -affectionate terms, asking me to be his godmother. It was the dearest -wish of their hearts, they would have me believe; and yet--not a word of -regret for what they had made me suffer! - -I saw through it at once. They were merely throwing a sop to Cerberus, -as it were, expecting that the little compliment would pacify -me--treating me as a cross child to be appeased with lollipops. Tom was -angry when I expressed my views; he said--what I am sure he was very -sorry for afterwards--that I was "the most perverse woman that ever -walked;" and it really seemed at one time as if this miserable affair -was destined to wreck the happiness of a marriage which for more than a -quarter of a century had been the most perfect in the world. I had never -imagined it possible that _my_ husband could be morose and rude--and to -me, of all people! - -I answered the letter the same day. I said I was much obliged to Edmund -and Phyllis for their kind invitation, but I considered I was too old to -stand sponsor to the baby, who should have some one likely to be of use -to him through life. I did not suggest Mrs. Juke as a substitute; I did -not even mention her, nor refer to my grievances; I wrote temperately -and courteously, though not gushingly, and I fully expected that my note -would bring forth another, urging me to reconsider the matter, and -assuring me that I was not too old for anything--as of course I am not. -Instead of this, they affected to be huffy, made no rejoinder, and took -no further notice of me. So my feelings can be imagined when Lily calmly -informed me that _she_ was to be the baby's godmother. I was keeping the -child closely at home, engaged with her studies; I had put a stop to the -Melbourne visits, because I do not believe in town life for a girl so -young, and it was just as easy and very little more expensive to have -her masters come out to give her lessons; therefore I could not imagine -how she had been, as Harry would have said, "got at." - -"Oh, are you?" I ejaculated, dissembling my surprise, "and, pray, who -says so?" - -"Father," she replied. "Ted spoke to father, and he said I might. And -they want father to be godfather--Mr. Stephen Juke and either father or -Harry--and Harry says his conscience is against something or other in -the baptismal service--and so is Emily's--and that's why they chose me. -And oh, mother, I must! I MUST!" - -She said it as if it were "I will," and with that mulish look which I -knew of old, and which meant that she would fight to the death to get -her own way, no matter whose feelings might be trampled on. I did not -stay to argue with her, but flew down the garden to find Tom. He was -pitchforking clean straw into the pigsties, and when he saw me, stood -and leaned on the fork handle with an exaggerated air of resignation. -"Well, and what's the matter now?" was expressed in his face and -attitude, though he did not speak. - -"Tom," I demanded, as I paused before him--I will not deny that I was -boiling over "Tom, are you going to be godfather to the Jukes' baby?" - -"I don't know, Polly," he said evasively. "Nothing is settled yet." - -"If you do," I declared with passion, "I will never speak to you again." - -Of _course_ I did not mean that, but he took it as if I had said -something horrible. Never did I expect to see my husband look at me as -he looked then, or to hear him speak to me in a tone so cold and cruel, -or call me names as if he were a common costermonger instead of the -gentleman I had always found him. - -"Polly," he said, "because you are behaving like a maniac, am I to do so -too?--to turn against my daughter for nothing at all--my dear, good -child, who never grieved me in her life--and at this time of all times, -when her little heart is full----" - -I could bear no more. I burst into tears. I believe the boy was digging -potatoes not twenty yards away, but I did not care; in the middle of -Collins Street I must have done the same. To be misunderstood by the -whole world was a trifle indeed, but to be misunderstood by _him_ an -insupportable calamity. - -It was but for a moment, after all. No sooner did he see my tears than -he flung away his fork, hurried me behind a shed, and took me into his -arms to comfort me, as he had always done. All piggy as he was, I threw -mine around his neck, forgiving him everything for the sake of his -constant love. - -"There, there," he crooned, "don't cry, pet. What a baby it is, after -all! You know as well as I do that you are just cutting off your nose to -spite your face--now don't you, sweetheart?" - -"Oh, Tom," I wailed, "if you would _only_ understand!" - -"Well, I do," he assured me, ruffling my hair with his grubby paw. "I -know all about it, little woman. And I'm ready to do anything in the -world to please you. I always am." - -"Then you won't stand godfather to that child--without me?" - -"Suppose we both stand together? We've done everything together so far." - -"I can't. I have refused." - -"Then write and say you have changed your mind." - -"It's too late. And they don't want me to change it, Tom--they don't -indeed; they only asked me out of politeness; they did not press me the -least little bit. I am sure they were delighted when I declined. They -had calculated upon it." - -"Pooh! That's your imagination." - -"It is _not_. What, are you going to accuse me of not speaking the -truth?" - -"No, no, my dear; but sometimes--well, never mind; we are all liable to -make mistakes. And when I think of the letter they wrote, asking -you--and I'm sure they meant it----" - -"They could not have meant it, because when I only half declined--I left -it open to them to ask again--they would not take the hint. Oh, they -don't want me for anything now, and I would die sooner than ever force -myself on them again!" - -Tom inquired, in a grave tone, what I had said in my letter--what reason -I had given for declining, or half-declining, in the first instance; and -I told him. - -"And, dear," I urged, "if I am too old--and they accepted that as a -valid excuse--what are you?" - -"Hm-m," he mused. "I never thought of that. Harry's the man--not me--if -there's anything in being godfather beyond the name. Only Harry jibs at -saying 'I will' and 'all this I steadfastly believe'--as if it were for -a young donkey like him to criticise the Prayer Book that's been good -enough for generations of us. That boy's head is full of maggots. So's -Emily's." - -"I beg," said I, "that you will not say a word against Emily, nor Harry -either. They are perfectly right. I think their loyalty beautiful." - -"To whom?" asked Tom. - -"To me," I said. "Was it likely they would stand sponsors to the baby -over my head? No, they love me too well to countenance anything that -would humiliate me. And Tom, my dear, I think it downright tyranny to -keep those two dear children hanging on as they are doing, wasting their -best years. You forget that I was barely twenty when you married me." - -"Barely twenty-two," he corrected. - -"And Emily is twenty-three. You might remember what it was to _us_ to -get each other and our little home--how _we_ should have felt if cruel -fathers had kept us out of it!" - -"Well, I never thought to hear myself called a cruel father," laughed -Tom, taking everything literally, as usual. "And as for Hal and -Emily--why, you yourself----" - -"I did nothing of the sort," I broke in--for I knew what he was going to -say--"and I have always advocated early marriages, because our own was -so successful. Now, Tom, when we have settled the affair of the -christening--but we must do that first----" - -"And how's it to be done?" he sighed, heavily. "Good God! I've been -true-blue Church and State all my life, but I'm hanged if I don't wish -there were no such things as christenings!" - -I am sure I heartily agreed with him. - -And after all he had his wish, as far as our baby was concerned. That -christening was postponed indefinitely. I heard that Edmund had said, -with a man's obtuseness to the logic of the case, that it was better the -child should remain a technical sinner than that all its relations -should become real ones. I was greatly surprised at the decision, but if -they chose to make the poor infant suffer for their faults, it was no -concern of mine. Mary Welshman and her husband wanted to make out that -it was--this, however, was merely a bit of revenge for some strictures I -had passed upon that disreputable brother of hers--and they took upon -themselves to such an extent that I resigned my sitting in the church -and stopped all my subscriptions. Welshman said that if baby died -unbaptized and unregenerate, his eternal damnation would lie at my -door--or something to that effect. I was not going to sit under a -clergyman who presumed to behave to me in that way. - -And so, thanks to all this meddling and muddling, the miserable affair -ended in a complete estrangement between my daughter and me. She never -came out to see us, as she had been used to do, and of course I did not -go to see her without being asked. I would not let Lily go either, to -have her taught to be disrespectful to her mother; and the child--too -young to know what was for her good--tried me sorely with her rebellious -spirit. She was worse than rebellious--she was disobedient and -deceitful; I found that she met her sister secretly when my back was -turned, and that she knew when little Eddie cut his first tooth, and -when he was short-coated, though I did not. Tom was mopey and grumpy, -almost sulky sometimes--so changed that I hardly knew him for my -sunny-tempered mate; he seemed all at once to be turning into an old -man. And I, though I tried to fight against it, had a perpetual ache in -my heart, and was tempted sometimes to wish that I was dead, so that I -might be loved once more. - -What I should have done without Emily I don't know. Tom gave me -permission to make certain arrangements which would enable her and Harry -to marry and settle, and the excitement and occupation which this -entailed just kept me, I think, from going out of my mind with -melancholy. As it was near the midwinter vacation, I insisted on the -dear girl giving up her school at the end of term; and we fixed a day in -August for the wedding, so as to have the cream of springtime for the -honeymoon. Emily's father--a perfect gentleman---was a cripple, earning -but a small income by law-writing at home, and their house in Richmond -was cramped and close; for health's sake I made her spend part of the -holidays with me, and really it was like the happy old times over again -to see her sweet, bright face about the house. Her companionship was -most beneficial to Lily, too; the child recovered all her amiability, -and was as good as gold. Tom quite brightened up, laughing and joking, -like his old self; and we had Harry rushing out upon his bicycle -directly his office closed, and staying to sleep night after night, so -as to get long evenings with his betrothed. I never saw a pair of lovers -behave with better taste. Instead of hiding themselves in an empty room -for hours, they would play a rubber of whist with the old folks, and -Emily would sing our favourite songs to us, and duets with Lily; and -Harry was like a big boy again with his "Mummie" and his "Mater" and his -many pranks. It was delicious to wake in the night and think of him back -in the family nest--to picture him as he had looked when I went in to -tuck him up, turning his handsome head to kiss his mother. It was a good -time altogether--except for the one thing; _that_ spoiled all--for me, -at any rate, if not for the others. - -Every day, and nearly all day long, Emily and I busied ourselves -preparing the new house. The dears had wished to live in our -neighbourhood, like the devoted children that they were, and had fallen -in love with a sweet little villa of half a dozen rooms, in a neat, -small garden, which was the ideal home for a bride and bridegroom of -large refinement and small means. It was a Boom property going cheap, -and Tom and I stretched a point to buy it outright and make them a -present of it; so that I could look forward to having my dear -daughter-in-law near me for many years to come. Such proximity might -have been inconvenient in the case of another person, but I had no fear -of the old prejudice against mothers-in-law operating here. - -The drawing-room, furnished entirely to my own design, was a picture. We -had the floor stained and rugs spread about; as Emily said, that was one -of the charms of living out of streets, which, however well-watered, -continually covered your things with dust, as if the house had pores to -take it in by. In town, if you want polished surfaces, you must simply -live with a duster in your hand. Then we papered the walls yellow and -painted the woodwork cream; and we made delightful chintz curtains and -covers for inexpensive furniture, and got a handy carpenter to carry out -our ideas for overmantel and bookcases, and used I don't know how many -tins of Aspinall. Without going into further particulars, I may say that -it was the prettiest little home that can be imagined when all was done. -Emily was only too pleased to leave everything to my taste and judgment, -and I cannot remember ever having a job that I enjoyed more thoroughly. - -Then she had to go back to her mother to get her clothes ready. And, -because I could not do without her altogether, I often joined her in -town and had an hour's shopping or sewing with her. I accompanied her, -of course, when she went to choose the wedding-gown--a walking costume -of cloth and silk that would be useful to her afterwards--and on the -following day I kept an appointment we had made to interview a -dressmaker. - -For the first time, she was not waiting for me. Her mother met me -instead--a nice, superior sort of woman, quite different from Mrs. -Juke--but a little inclined to be offhand, even with me. I also detected -in her manner a trace of that jealous spirit which above all things I -abhor, especially in mothers, whose natural instinct it is to sacrifice -and efface themselves for their children's good. - -"Emily is out," she said. "You can't have her. You'll have to do as I -mostly have to do--attend to your business alone." - -"But it is her business I am going to attend to--not my own," I said; -"and I cannot possibly do it without her. It is entirely for her -pleasure and convenience that I have come in to-day, Mrs. Blount, and -she faithfully promised to be ready for me at three." - -"Well, you see, sickness is not like anything else--it's got to come -first. It's not an hour since she was sent for, and there was no way of -getting a message to you. She told me to give you her love, and say how -sorry she was." - -"Will she be long, do you think?" - -"I couldn't say; but she took her nightgown with her." - -"Oh! Then I may as well go home at once. And when she wants me again, -she can send me word." I was inclined to be annoyed with Emily for -running me about for nothing, but--providentially--it occurred to me to -inquire what her errand was. - -"It's the child," said Mrs. Blount, "that's not very well." - -"What child?" - -"The little Juke baby. He has only a cold, his mother thinks, but, as -the doctor is away just now, she's nervous about him. So she sent for -Emily." - -"For _Emily!_" My heart swelled. I cannot describe the feeling that came -over me. Mrs. Blount stared at me in an odd way, and I have no doubt had -cause to do so; I must have stared at her like a daft creature. Neither -of us spoke another word. I just turned and ran out of the house, ran -all the way to the tram road, ran after a tram that had already passed -the end of the street, and in a quarter of an hour was jumping from the -dummy of another opposite my darling daughter's door. No doubt my fellow -travellers smiled to see a matron of my years conducting herself in that -manner, but I cast dignity to the winds. A new maid who did not know me -answered my sharp pull at the house bell, and told me Mrs. Juke was not -at home to visitors. - -"How is the baby?" I gasped out, trembling in every limb. - -"We have just sent for Dr. Errington," she replied. And then I rushed -past her and upstairs to Phyllis's room. - -As soon as I opened the door, and heard the sound in the air, I -recognised croup. It reminded me of times, in years gone by, when I had -wakened in the night and wondered for a moment what the extraordinary -noise was that pulsed through the house like the snoring of a wild -animal, and then leaped from my bed in agony as if a sword had gone -through me. I could see my own child's face, swollen and dark with -threatened suffocation, looking to her mother for help with those -beseeching eyes: just in the same way they looked at me now, only now -the mother-anguish was wringing _her_ poor heart. She was walking up and -down the floor distractedly, with the baby in her arms--he had grown a -huge fellow, and weighed her down; and Emily was wildly turning the -leaves of a great medical book of Edmund's, blind with tears. Dear, -loving, futile creatures! It was more than I could bear to see them, and -to hear my Phyllis cry, "Mother! Mother! Oh, mother, tell us what to -do!" - -In one moment my cloak was on the floor and the babe was in my arms. He -struggled to cry, but could not get the sound out--only the brazen crow, -and harsh, strangled breath, which, I was informed, were symptoms of a -crisis which had only just appeared, attacking him in his sleep--and -Phyllis, when she had given him to me, clasped and unclasped her hands, -wrung them, and moaned as if some one were killing her. - -"Ipecacuanha wine!" I shouted. "Run Emily! Run over to the chemist's and -get it fresh--it must be fresh--and don't lose an instant! Hot water, -Phyllis, and a sponge! And tell them to get a bath ready!" - -They scurried away, and Emily, hatless and panting, was back from the -chemist's on the other side of the street before I had finished -loosening the infant's clothes; and he nearly choked himself with the -first spoonful of the stuff, which nevertheless I was obliged to make -him swallow. - -"He can't! He can't!" Phyllis moaned, tears that she forgot to wipe away -running down her poor face like rain down a window-pane. "Oh, he's -choking! He's going into convulsions! He's dying! Oh, Ted, Ted! Oh, my -precious angel! Oh, what shall I do!" - -I calmly gave him another spoonful of the ipecacuanha wine, for I knew -what I knew--that in ten minutes all this grief would subside with the -sufferings of the poor child--and almost immediately the expected -results occurred. It was an agitating moment for her, still imagining -convulsions and the throes of dissolution, and an anxious one for me, -because this was a much younger victim to croup than any I had had to -deal with; but when the paroxysm passed it was evident to everybody--and -the servants also were standing round--that his distress was already -soothed and the tension of the attack relieved. I put him gently into -the warm bath, heating it gradually till he might almost have been -scalded without knowing it, fomenting the little throat with a soft -sponge; and when I took him out and rolled him in a warm blanket, he -sank at once to sleep in my arms, and the crisis and the danger were -over. - -Then in dashed Dr. Errington, desperately alarmed because he was so -late, and full of suspicious questions. Phyllis took him aside and -explained everything, and, although it was hard to convince him that the -right thing had been done, eventually he was convinced, and owned it. - -"I congratulate you, Mrs. Braye, on your presence of mind," he said -handsomely. "It it not at all unlikely, from what Mrs. Juke tells me, -that the prompt measures you took averted a serious attack." - -"Thank you, doctor," I replied with a modest smile. "I am glad to prove -to you that I am of some use in a sick-room." - -He looked a little embarrassed--as well he might--and Emily flushed up. -It was her habit to blush at anything and nothing, like a half-grown -school girl. But Phyllis spoke out bravely. - -"Mother has just saved his life, Dr. Errington--that's all. If she had -not come at the moment she did, he must have choked to death. None of us -knew what to do to relieve him, but she knew at once." Then, as she -kneeled beside me where I sat on the nursing chair by the fire, she -dropped her poor, pretty, tired head upon my shoulder, and said, in the -most natural way in the world: "Father is right--there's no nurse in the -world like her." - -I have had many happy moments in my life, first and last, but I do think -that was one of the happiest. - -We sat by the fire until dusk--we three and the sleeping child. He had -gone off in my arms, and I would not permit him to be moved or touched. -As long as the light lasted I watched his sweet face, and the blessed -dew of perspiration on his still open lips and where the matted curls -stuck to his nobly-shaped brow; never had I seen such a splendid boy of -his age--except my own. I made Phyllis put up her feet on a lounge -opposite, and every now and then I met her wistful eyes looking at me -as if she were a child herself again. Yet I saw a great change in -her--the great change that motherhood makes in every woman--enhancing -her charm in every way. Emily sat on the stool between us. Once or twice -she attempted to go--and I wished she would--but Phyllis would not let -her. However, though not one of us yet, she would be soon, and in our -murmured talk together I instructed them both in some of the things of -which, in spite of a doctor being the husband of one of them, they were -alike ignorant. - -"Remember," I said, "never to be without a four-ounce bottle of -ipecacuanha wine, hermetically sealed when fresh, and kept where you can -readily lay your hand upon it. And when you find your child breathing in -that loud, hoarse way, or beginning that barking cough, give a -teaspoonful at once--at _once_--and another every five minutes until -relieved. Now don't forget that, either of you. You thought it only a -bad cold, Phyllis dear, but I could have told you differently if you -had sent for me. When he gets another attack----" - -"Oh, do you think he will have another?" she gasped, springing up on her -sofa with that unnecessary, uncontrollable agitation which I understood -so well. - -I told her I expected it, but that there was no need to be alarmed, -since she now knew how to recognise and deal with the complaint, which, -even if constitutional with him, he would grow out of in a few years. I -suggested causes to be guarded against--stomach troubles, the notorious -insalubrity of Melbourne streets, and so on--and reassured her as much -as I could. - -"Pray Heaven," she sighed, with tears in her eyes, "that I may never see -him like this again! Oh, I can't bear to think of it!" She shuddered -visibly. "He would have been dead now--now, at this very moment--and Ted -would have come home to find we were childless--if it had not been for -you, mother." - -"I think it very likely," I said, looking at the darling as I gently -swayed him to and fro on the low rocking-chair. "But he won't die now." - -"And he wasn't christened!" she ejaculated. - -"_That_ didn't matter," Emily put in, with her inevitable blush. "You -don't believe in that old fetish of baptismal regeneration, surely, -Phyllis? You don't think the poor little soul would have been plunged -into fire and brimstone because a man did not make incantations over -it?" - -I rebuked Emily. As I had before remarked to Tom, she had all sorts of -maggots in her head. It was the B.A., the advanced woman, coming out in -her, and I did not like to see it, my own family having been brought up -so differently. I observed with relief, that Phyllis took no notice of -her flippant questions. She looked at me--knowing that I should -understand--and said she felt as if it would be a comfort to her somehow -to have him baptized. I suggested that it would be nice to have it done -in the cathedral as soon as he was well enough; and just after that he -awoke, we gave him his medicine, and Emily went home. - -When I had dressed the child for his cot and made him comfortable I took -up my own cloak and bonnet. But Phyllis looked so aghast at the -proceeding, and implored me with such evident sincerity not to leave -her, and particularly not to leave the baby, that I consented to stay at -any rate until Edmund returned--although, as I represented to her, her -father would be thinking I had been run over in the street. - -When she heard her husband's step in the hall she made an excuse to run -down to speak to him about the boy, and they came back together, and -straightway embraced me with all their four arms at once. Edmund, who -has always had the manners of a prince, spoke in the nicest way about my -goodness to them. - -"And now you won't leave us any more, Mater dear--now you see how badly -we manage things without you to help us? I have sent a message to the -captain--I've asked him to come by the next train--and your room is -getting ready. You _will_ stay--for our sakes--won't you?" - -I wept on Edmund's shoulder, like a complete idiot. And of course I -stayed. - - * * * * * - -Shall I ever forget that springtime! The garden was a garden of Eden -with flowers and birds--the bulbs in bloom, bushes of carmine japonica, -great clouds of white almond and pink peach blossom overhead, and the -scent of daphne and violets at every turn. As for the house, it was a -little paradise on earth, which a house can never be, to my thinking, -without a baby in it. To see that dear child crawling all over it, with -Phyllis flying after him--to hear him chirping to his grandfather, who -seemed to forget there were such things as pigs and fowls to see to--oh, -it was too blissful for words! I easily persuaded Edmund that Collins -Street was a place for women and children to live in when they must and -get out of when they could, and he knew when he confided his treasures -to me that they could not be in safer hands. He told me so, and I am -happy to say the event justified his faith. Every time that he came -over--which was almost daily, though often he had not half an hour to -stay--he found them rosier and plumper, turning the scale at a trifle -more. - -As I kept them for the summer--in the middle of which we all went to -Lorne for a month--they were with me at the time of Harry's marriage in -the spring. Edmund came down that morning to fetch his wife and Lily to -the wedding, bringing a carriage for them and Tom. Of course they wanted -me to go--everybody wanted it--Tom almost flatly declined to stir a step -without me; but I said, no, I would keep house and take care of the -precious grandson. After the way I had been deprived of him in the past, -it was beautiful to think of having him for a whole day to myself. And, -as I said to Tom, it was all an old woman was fit for. - -"Oh, I like that!" he laughed, throwing an arm round my waist. "You know -very well you've only got to put your smart gown on and walk away from -the lot of 'em--bride and bridesmaids and all." - -Old goose! But I am sure when he was dressed, and the lilies of the -valley stuck in his buttonhole, he could walk away from any young -bridegroom in the matter of looks--aye, even his own handsome son. They -all kissed me fondly before leaving the house--my pretty girls, and -Edmund, who was as dear as they--and I stood at the gate to see them go -with the pleasant knowledge that I should be more conspicuous by my -absence than any one by their presence at the wedding party, except the -bride herself. - -In the afternoon, when Eddie was asleep and I was beginning to feel -rather tired of my own company, I had a visit from kind old Mrs. Juke. -She too had married her sons and daughters, so she could sympathise with -me. We had a comfortable tea together, and lots of talk, comparing -notes, as mothers love to do; and then we amused ourselves with our -grandchild, like two infants with a doll. She was of Tom's opinion that -he was the image of me, and she was in raptures at the improvement in -him since I had "saved his life"--as she persisted in calling the mere -giving of a simple emetic. Strange to say, with all the children she had -had, she could not remember a case of croup amongst them, and she did -not know the sovereign virtue of fresh ipecacuanha wine. Later in the -afternoon we walked to the new house, wheeling the perambulator in turn; -and I showed her everything, and she thought all perfect--as it was. She -was wonderfully agile for a rather stout woman, making nothing of the -long tramp; and her intelligent appreciation of artistic things -surprised me. I had long discovered the fact that she was excellently -educated. Her father had had large flour mills and been wealthy in his -day, and his daughters had all had advantages--far more than I had had -myself, in fact. Poor Mrs. Blount, on the contrary, had never mixed with -cultured people, as her accent indicated. - -"Well," said Ted's mother, in Ted's own nice way, when our inspection of -the little house was ended, "Emily Blount ought to be a happy girl." - -"And she is," I replied. "About as happy as a young bride ever was in -this world--except myself." - -"And me," said Mrs. Juke. - -"And you." - -I was glad and proud to believe that it was so. - -But since then I have wondered sometimes whether Emily appreciates her -extraordinary luck as she ought to do. Now and then it comes across me -that she takes it a little too much as a matter of course. - -It is very nice--very nice indeed--to have her living so near me, but I -must say she is not quite so docile as she was before her marriage. -Being a University woman, she naturally knows nothing in the world about -housekeeping, and it was only in kindness to her and out of -consideration for Harry's purse that I advised her now and then on -domestic matters. I thought to be sure she would be grateful for hints -from one of such large experience, but it was evidently otherwise, -since as a rule she did not take them. I told her that three pounds of -butter a week for three people was preposterous, and that light crust -made of clarified beef dripping was infinitely nicer as well as more -wholesome than the rich puff paste they put to everything; but she went -on taking the three pounds just the same. Though I gave her a sausage -machine and endless recipes for doing up cold scraps, I used to see good -pieces of meat thrown away continually; and a girl they had, who lit the -morning fire with kerosene, and who told my Jane that she "couldn't -stand the old lady at no price," broke crockery every time she touched -it, and yet they persisted in keeping her. As I said to Harry, if they -got into these extravagant ways when there were but two of them, how -would it be presently when there was a family to support? But your son -is never the same son after he has taken a wife, and Harry did not like -to be appealed to. The other day he said, "Please don't interfere with -her"--quite as if he were speaking to some meddlesome outsider. _I_ -interfere! The notion was too absurd. I reminded him how I had held -aloof from the Jukes when they were young beginners, as proving as I was -not the sort of person to force myself where I was not wanted, even upon -my own children. But he and Emily are not like my beloved Edmund and -Phyllis, who think there is no one in the world like "Mater dear." - - -THE END. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Materfamilias, by Ada Cambridge - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MATERFAMILIAS *** - -***** This file should be named 40659.txt or 40659.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/6/5/40659/ - -Produced by Clare Graham, Laura McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com & Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org (Images graciously made -available by the Internet Archive.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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