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Chapter XII. The Widows's Arrival Creates a Sensation.

An event now happened which was hailed with general satisfaction. It was the arrival in our midst of a lively young widow. Her husband had departed this life in the old country. Why he had done so and left such a pleasant partner, history telleth not, so we'll presume it was because he could not help it. Her brother, an old bachelor, Mr Bowden by name, and our nearest neighbour, had, on hearing the sad news, at once written and asked her to come out to keep house for him. Having no other ties in the old country, she answered his invitation in person. Although I said that this gentleman was our nearest neighbour, yet our residences were at least five miles apart. Still, my uncle and he being very great chums, often passed social evenings at one another's houses, and on the arrival of Mrs Fortescue—for that was the name this lady had exchanged for her former one—the visits certainly did not grow less. Fanny and Alice were naturally delighted at the idea of securing a lady friend at such an easy distance, and were very anxious to call on the stranger and see what she was like as soon as they heard she had arrived. This they did after allowing her a few days to get things straight after her journey, and I had the pleasure of escorting them.

We found Mrs Fortescne a lady of lively and engaging manners, and also of very charming appearance. She inquired kindly after uncle. This we thought rather strange, as he had never mentioned having met her, and we were not aware that he had been down at Mr. Bowden's since her arrival.

‘Oh yes, he has,’ she exclaimed when I mentioned this. ‘I don;t think a day has passed without his calling in as he rode by. He seems to be very much attached to my brother, for although he talked of having business with him, I never heard him converse about it. What a very pleasant old gentleman he is,’ she continued.

‘He is generally considered so,’ I replied, ‘but whatever you do, do not fall off your horse when he is about, or you may alter your opinion about him’ I then related the little incident of his treatment of his nephew on a certain occasion.

‘I hope it did you good,’ she laughingly replied. ‘Boys are always the better for a moderate application of the whip now and then.’

I resolved to keep quiet about that performance for the future, as the relation of it appeared always to bring me more ridicule than sympathy. Having demolished me, Mrs Fortescue turned to my cousins.

‘Oh, by the bye, a gentleman of rather aristocratic appearance, who came down in the same steamer from Auckland with me, asked if I knew the Misses Melton. He thought I was an old resident here. He is going to make a short stay near Wanganui, and see as much of the country as possible.’

Fanny could not conceal a look of pleased surprise, which I admit I beheld with a feeling very near akin to wrath.

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‘Did not the gentleman show you a photo of his father with the name, Sir Charles Grosvenor, at the foot of it?’ I inquired in a voice which turned all their glances towards me.

‘Yes, he did, Mr Melton. You knew him, then?’

‘He came out in the same ship with me, and was thought very little of by the time we got to the end of the voyage,’ I replied, thinking that by this simple sentence, delivered with the emphasis I had placed on it, would effectually put a spoke in his wheel.

‘How strange he never told us, Alice, that Frank had come out with him.’

‘Oh, I don't know, Fanny. We never informed him that we expected a cousin from England, so he would never think of Frank being a relation. The name is not uncommon.’

‘What bad tastes your fellow-passengers must have had not to appreciate Mr Grosvenor. He seemed to me to be a very gentlemanly, pleasant companion. Possessed of a good deal of conceit, certainly, but that made him all the more amusing. He told me that the voyage had been a most unpleasant one, as the passengers were such a queer lot he did not care to associate with them. A lot of unlicked cubs I think he called the young men on board,’ said Mrs Fortescue, looking at me with a merry twinkle in her eye, while my cousins indulged in a hearty laugh.

‘You see, Frank, he did not like you any more than you did him,’ said Fanny.

I saw it was no use trying to make them understand the sort of fellow he was, so I did not reply, though I thought to myself I should be very sorry if he did care for me.

‘Where is he going to stay, Mrs Fortescue?’ inquired Fanny.

‘I heard that young Sylvester, who has been up to Auckland, met him there, and invited him to pay a visit to his parents domicile, wherever that is.’

‘Oh, I know, about fifteen miles from here. They are old friends of ours. I do hope they will give a party while he is with them, don't you, Alice? It will be so nice to take Frank and show him what a New Zealand “free and easy” is like.’

Will it be credited that I fervently hoped this party would not come off, but did not say so? Then followed some lively chafl between Fanny and the widow.

‘Ah, Miss Melton, though you had the advantage of a short previous acquaintance, you had better look out. I greatly admire the young man, and may be tempted to try and cut you out.’

‘Yes, Mrs Fortescue, I know that we poor, inexperienced girls have quite as much need of old Mr Weller's advice to “beware of widders” as ever his dutiful son Samuel had, for you can always give us points and beat us, in gaining the affections of eligible young men. Have pity on me please, for I couldn't bear to lose him.’

This was said in a light, playful tone, but it gave me a remarkably heavy, unpleasant sensation.

‘Pity, my dear, is utterly unknown either in love or war, so look out. I have given you fair warning.’

Mr Bowden now entered the room, and prevailed on us to stay and take tea.

‘I met young Sylvester at Wanganui this afternoon with that counter-jumper-looking new-chum friend of his. They entrusted me with a billet doux for you, Miss Fanny. I hope it was from Sylvester, page 50 as you can then say yes, for if it's from the counter-jumper it would have to be no. He remarked that he knew you. I was rather surprised.’

‘Counter-jumper, Fred!’ exclaimed his sister. ‘He's no more a counter-jumper than you are. He's a baronet's son travelling for pleasure. He showed me his father's (old Sir Charles') likeness, and what's more, Miss Melton and I were quarrelling when you came in who should have him.’

‘Baronet's son, is he? Well, there's no judging by appearances. Notwithstanding his get-up I could have sworn he was a draper's assistant, or a bagman out for a holiday. I am certainly surprised at your tastes, young ladies, to trouble your heads about a fop like him while there are so many fine, manly young fellows about.’

I always thought a lot of Mr Bowden's ideas of things in general.

‘Oh, Mr Bowden, you know we were only joking, but he really is a baronet's son, and has property at home,’ remarked Fanny, with more than her usual colour. ‘Alice,’ she continued, ‘here is a note from Mrs Sylvester. They are to have their usual party on Christmas Day, and we are asked. She says we must take Frank and father, if we can persuade him.’

‘Christmas Day? Why that's two months off yet.’

‘Yes, but wait a bit. I see on looking it over here is “turn over” at the bottom of the page. Ah, ah! I will read it out. “But as I fear you young ladies will think Christmas long in coming, we hope I fear you young ladies will think Christmas long in coming, we hope to see you all here this day fortnight to a little dance.” There, what do you think of that? I shall have one more chance of making the do you think of that? I shall have one more chance of making the running before you cut me out, Mrs Fortescue.’

‘Not so fast, young lady,’ put in Mr Bowden. ‘I have also a note here, which in all probability will be an answer to one of mine inquiring the price of some pigs, but there is just an atom of a chance that it may contain an invitation too. No, it looks more like the price of pigs. Yes, by Jove, it is.’ “Dear Bowden,—Re the pigs you wrote me about last week—”’

‘Bless the pigs,’ interposed his sister.

‘Don't interrupt me, my dear. “Re the pigs you wrote me about last week. I have not yet sold them, and as you don't see such beauties every day in the week, much less get a chance of buying them, come and look at them. We're sure to make a deal. Yours as ever, Julius Sylvester.” Just like our luck, no invitation,’ said he, closing the letter and putting it in his pocket.

‘Now, Mr Bowden, I am certain there's more than you have read in that letter. You're humbugging us. I am convinced of it by the twinkle of your eye. You don't know his little tricks as well as I do, Mrs Fortescue. Make him give it up, so that we can see for ourselves.’

On this they all set on him in such a manner that I wished I was the assaulted party, although if his expressions were any criterion he did not seem to like it a bit.

‘That's just the way of the world. The one that wants anything particularly generally has to go without it, but the fellow who would rather be without it gets it easily,’ thought I morosely.

These thoughts had barely crossed my mind when Bowden, finding himself overpowered, and in danger of having to give up the note, threw it over his head to me.

‘Stick to it, Frank, my boy,’ he shouted. ‘Don't let them have it. Won't have my business letters looked over by young ladies.’

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This turned the tide of battle on to me, and I was nothing loath that it should be so. Mrs Fortescue assisted them to secure me, then stood aloof, but Fanny and Alice acted their part so well that they at last secured the coveted bit of paper almost torn to rags. The invitation was there. It ran in the following unorthodox fashion:— ‘Wife says you'd better come and see the pigs this day fortnight. We'll have a ham cut from one of their deceased brethren on the table, so that with the help of a drop of good whiskey you'll be able both to taste and see, and form a good idea what you are purchasing. There will be some young people here dancing. Bring your sister if she has arrived. They won't interrupt us much.’

‘No, we shan't interrupt you much, for you and Mr Sylvester can and will dance the young fellows to a standstill. They are both passionately fond of it,’ added she, turning to Mrs Fortescue. ‘I think I see either of them talking of pigs when a waltz or galop is struck up.

‘How jolly! Then it seems we are all going,’ remarked Mr Bowden, ‘and mind, Miss Fanny, for your sins towards me in making me out to be so frivolous as to care for hopping round with a lot of—little better than children, I must have the first galop, and if I don't make the pace a hot one my name's not Bowden.’

I had been rather quiet during this dialogue, as I did not like the idea of Grosvenor being one of the party, but Mrs Fortescue now turned to me, and we were soon engaged in a very animated discugsion, in the middle of which, to our surprise, uncle entered the room.

‘Why, papa,’ said Alice, ‘You need not have come for us. Frank would have seen us home all right.’

‘Oh, I forgot to tell Frank to ask you, Bowden, when you could come for a pig hunt, so I thought I'd just look in. I was down this end of the run. I see a lot of fresh rooting about. The beggars are getting too numerous altogether.’

He spoke constrainedly, and I noticed that for some reason or other my matter-of-fact uncle was evidently ill at ease.

‘We have just received an invitation to a dance at Mrs Sylvester's for this day fortnight, papa, and we are to take Frank. Mr Bowden and his sister are also asked.’

‘I don't see how you can accept. I shall have to go to Wanganui on business that day.’

‘Oh, we must go, but you can get to Wanganui just the same. Frank can drive us. You never care about dances, so won't be sorry to get out of going,’ said Fanny.

‘We'll see about it. Wouldn't trust Frank to drive. Something like his riding, I expect. Boasted about it, then fell off because the horse turned round.’

‘Ah, but perhaps you could improve his driving, as I hear you did his riding, Mr Melton. A very striking improvement you effected, I understand,’ remarked the widow, smiling and turning from me to him.

‘Heaven forbid!’ exclaimed I, ‘that I should receive another such.’

‘What, has the young fool told you all about that, Mrs Fortescue?’

‘Yes, and I thought it very cruel of you to use such forcible means of punishment, Mr Melton. I had thought of asking you to give me some lessons, as I hear that you are such an excellent horseman, but I am really afraid I shall have to get them second-hand from your nephew.’

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Uncle here certainly cast quite a savage glance at me as he replied to her last remark, ‘a man who can't ride himself is no good to teach others, Mrs Fortescue.’

‘But he has been telling me of some of his exploits with hounds at home, and it is hardly fair of you to say he can't ride because he has not quite mastered the mysteries of stock-riding yet. As I do not require my equestrian education to be carried into that branch of the art, I believe he will be quite efficient enough to instruet me.’

‘Very well, Mrs Fortescue, everyone to his or her taste,’ he replied, shortly, and turning away, engaged his old friend in conversation.

Fanny proposed that the widow should commence her proposed series of lessons as soon as possible. They could then ride over to the Sylvesters together. The horses would be handy if there were any riding parties or picnics.

‘But shan't we return the morning after the dance?’ asked Mrs Fortescue.

‘Oh, I hope not. We never do from there. We always have riding parties and fun of one sort or other. We shall be lucky if we get back within a week.’

‘That will be charming. If I can only learn enough about riding to pass fairly well in the crowd. I cannot bear to exhibit myself as a beginner. I must do a thing well or not at all.’

‘We will ride down to-morrow and give you your first lessons if you like. If papa can spare Frank he shall come too, but I doubt if he will.’