Other formats

    Adobe Portable Document Format file (facsimile images)   TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

"For Father's Sake," or A Tale of New Zealand Life

Chapter IV

page 27

Chapter IV.

Two years have passed. Two years of patient labour, of joys and sorrows, of calm and strife, of hopes and disappointments. The child-girl has grown into a girl-woman. There are no very striking changes either in the person or the surroundings of our little heroine. The same round, happy face; the same merry brown eyes; the same joyful laughter; the same childish expression. Those eyes are milder perhaps, yet there are suspicions of angry flashes lurking in their velvety depths; the voice is fuller, but there is a shrillness which needs ejecting; and the little dark head, just now so meekly bent, could often be tossed in contempt as its owner suffered from imaginary grievances. On the whole Nellie is the Nellie of old, only grown with less rapidity than was warranted by the growth of those two past years.

She is standing beside a beautiful brown mare (her father's gift), and, while she impatiently awaits her sister's return, she gently strokes the sleek arched neck. "We will go and see father, Beauty, you and I. We will stay with him tonight and return to-morrow. How surprised he will be; and what a glorious time together we are going to have."

Nellie's gay laugh echoed through the garden, and it was with difficulty she could restrain her dancing feet even to the time of a moderate jig. As if responding to the girl's high spirits the well-bred courser began caprioling about, pawing the ground, and uttering her low pleased neigh; while her dainty head, her pointed ears, her smooth flanks and long wiry legs, formed a satisfactory picture even for the severest horse critic. Mr. Main was noted for his stud. Even his enemies page 28were compelled to own that "Main's breeding was good," (which verdict is about as complimentary as competitors will ever give); therefore, when the recipient was Mr. Main's daughter, you may be sure Beauty was no ordinary horse. A little girl appeared with the whip. One spring: Nellie is in her seat in the saddle, scorning the help of chairs, not acquainted with the help of gentlemen. Even the latter, I am almost afraid, would come under the shadow of her disdain. Free and independent as the nature of her beloved country. May she always be so, let the cost be what it may.

At the pressure of her light flexible burden Beauty bounded off; and with a clear ringing laugh, a bright parting word, a wave of the small gloved hand, Nellie is speeding over the distance which lay between her and her absent father. "Away, petty strife," she cried, "I'll none of thee. To Gretna Green I fly." Foolish thoughts! Natural heart! What mortal has ever been able to fly from the harassing cares of petty strife? How many seek to do so by rushing after every novelty.

Go with her! thou, her guardian angel. Go and be her protector and her tutor. Go! go! she has need of thee. It is at such times as these, when alone with thee, and when surrounded by thy lesson books, that thy pupils learn and understand thy divine teachings. The profit gained by the gathering up of these crumbs of time can hardly be realized. In the simple story of David's first reception into the Palace of Saul there is a striking example of such gain. Who knows how many hours of patient practice must have been spent by that young harpist on those lonely hills, while tending his father's sheep, before he was competent to fill the honoured post of the king's chief musician.

Silently and stealthily the evening shadows crept round every corner and into every crevice. Solemnly the daylight page 29lifted its tired wings and prepared to place its sleepy head among those downy feathers. The hour of darkness drew apace, There are still two miles of broken, uneven road to be traversed before the solitary traveller will have reached her destination. The fiery spirits of her impetuous steed have had time to cool, and Beauty proceeds more steadily. They are crossing a bridge; the milky waters flow around and among the piles; the weeping willows stoop and kiss those murmuring lips; and in the shadowy dimples of that tender caress the white-robed swans repose.

In the middle of the stream Nellie paused to look down at the rushing tide. How smooth, how even, how deceitful was that glassy surface. Only a few quivering planks lay between her and its treacherous clasp.

"I wonder what death is," she mused. "For ever and ever! Strange words! I think if I were given my choice I would prefer to meet death beneath those calm bright waters. My spirit would rejoice, and my soul would be at peace, if this poor little body lay quietly beneath that gentle, refreshing stream." Death has no terrors, the grave no ghosts, for this child of nature. The favourite song of her childhood has not been dethroned by any brilliant operatic airs, and on her innocent fearless lips lingers the old loved strain, "I love everybody, and everybody loves me. Love begets love, you know."

Suddenly the clatter of horses feet is heard behind. Instinctively the docile animal recognized the presence of danger, and pricking up her ears, Beauty bounded forward, throwing her rider off her balance. Quickly regaining her seat Nellie gathered the loose reins up in her firm hands and sat perfectly still. There was no time to act, hardly time to think, she must leave all to Beauty's discretion. On, on they flew. Nearer and nearer drew their pursuers. O to page 30be able to round that corner. O to reach the homestead beyond. O to be safe under the protection of Farmer Fergusson; and in the motherly arms of his good-natured wife. Tantalizing, inhospitable corner, it seemed to recede as Nellie advanced. The horses behind came galloping on; she felt their heated breath; and in the waning light she imagined she saw their panting sides. For the first time in her life she experienced the sensation of fear. "Oh, Beauty, save me!" she cried, and bending forward patted the out-stretched neck. Poor Beauty answered with a plaintive neigh; her ears lay flat, her sinewy legs trembled with exhaustion, but she responded to her mistress's voice and threw all her energy into those last few efforts. In vain. Shouts rent the air. Lost ground was gained. Two dark forms shot past, and, wheeling round, brought their horses right across Nellie's path. Two likewise dark forms took places one on each side. And four foolish men, on mischief bent, surrounded the hapless captive. The exhausted horse whined piteously, and the trembling flanks betrayed its terror. The men in front dismounted, and seizing the bridle, bade Nellie release her hold. She looked around for aid, but none was seen. A stifled cry arose to Heaven, and Heaven heard it. Ah! help is always near to those who ask for it. If "the Devil takes care of his own bairns," which I very much doubt, God certainly takes care of His children. Turning to the man nearest her, Nellie asked, in their own mellow language what they would take to let her go. But they would not listen. "We know you," they cried. "You Wattie Main's daughter. We no want you, we want you horse. Him no pay me break in his horse. We take this one. We ride him, we beat him, we give him back to you." Poor men, this was their darkest intention. And, in the Maori race, their spirit of revenge seldom leads them beyond such deeds. page 31"please let me go," pleaded the white trembling lips. "Why do you wish to harm me? I have never done anything to displease you!"

With an oath the man raised his thick stick. A moment, and it would have descended upon Nellie's unprotected head; but one of the men, who had stood by in silence, now interfered. Seizing the uplifted arm he exclaimed, "Tai hoa" (wait a minute).

"A b—Pakeha," muttered the would-be delinquent, as he lowered his weapon. Nellie looked up to thank her timely saviour, and was struck by the expression of the dark restless face. The eyes seemed to avoid her; but she felt that although darkened and tanned with exposure to the sun, that face was not hideous with the traces of evil indulgences. A wave of remorse swept over her, and she remembered reading the words, "Their deeds are laid at your door." By this time all the men had dismounted. They seemed to be uncertain what to do, for they began talking and gesticulating in true Maori fashion. In their excitement they had almost forgotten their captive, and had drawn together, leaving Nellie comparatively alone. Now was her chance: a smile actually flitted across the girl's face. Beauty had regained her breath during this brief respite, and was equal to the occasion. Quick as thought Nellie laid the reins on the mare's neck; she understood. Lifting her whip as she was passing, Nellie dealt the man who had attempted to strike her, a severe blow across the face. "From Wattie Main's daughter," she said, and was gone. Taken unawares, the men stood dumbfounded; by the time they had collected their senses it was too late; Nellie had reached a safe distance, and they, instead of being the pursuers, had now to take the place of the pursued. Suddenly the comic side of the whole incident seemed to strike one of their number, for page 32he burst out laughing. His companions looked at him in indignation; but they too were compelled to join in the laughter, as the jocose, flinging himself across his horse, exclaimed,

"Py korry! Too kood te white man. No kood te Maori. Koorrow man te Queen Wiccytoria."

The rest of the party followed in his wake, and soon they were several miles from the scene of the recent encounter, and were steering their course direct for the King Country.

Nellie galloped on, nor did she draw rein until her father's station was in sight. Who can tell of anything more welcome than the glimpse she caught of those lights among the trees? What more pleasant sound than the barking of her father's sheep dogs? I am afraid, although my lady delighted to lose herself in soft dreamy music, and to skim over the floor keeping time with the merry dance tune, the felt more relieved at and more pleasure in the sound of that more practical music, the barking of sheep dogs.

Her fears had vanished long ere this, and she laughed heartily as she recalled the look of blank astonishment that rested on the face she had treated so roughly. "Poor old fellow," she thought, "he'll remember me as long as he lives. What fools to think they had me so nicely. One thing, they would have had to tear me to pieces before they could get you, my Beauty. I pity you, Mr. Maoris, if father knew, and I think you understand your danger. No, I won't tell on you. There's no harm done, and who knows where it may end if I were to tell. No, for once a 'Pakeha' will be merciful." Her thoughts wandered on. She remembered kind dark faces looking out from beneath their low thatched huts. She saw them place their best at her disposal. She heard their homely voices as they bade her "Hairi mei" (come). Eager to serve, seeking to win the goodwill of their fallow-page 33men, ever showing by their actions their wish to be at peace. "Poor Maoris! we rob you of your land; we use your strength to cultivate your hereditary possessions, now ours by no other right than that of barter, often a dishonest barter; we abuse your hospitality; we work upon your ignorance; yet, in the face of all this, you forgive us, and are ever ready to help us on toward prosperity. Shame on the man who would cheat a Maori. A thousand times more shame on him than if he cheated a child, for he stands upon a soil which God had bequeathed to that Maori, but which, on account of his inability to put it out to usury, that land has been suffered to pass to you, the whiteman. Instead of cheating, you should succour. Instead of imposing, you should teach. In the troubles they have caused, they were not the only ones at fault; and even their worst deeds would blush if brought into contact with some of England's own."

Nellie reached the gate, jumped off her horse, threw the reins over the post, sprang over the fence (don't be shocked), and walked quietly up the avenue.

"Now for a glorious surprise," she thought, clasping her hands together and almost wild with delight. "Bother those dogs, I wish they would stop; they are sure to warn father. If you do, Mr. Dogs, I'll hide; I will not be done out of my joke, after riding so far, too. I just wonder where he is." Creeping round the house and peeping through every window, Nellie at last stood on the kitchen threshold. What was it? Something in that simple scene sent a chill shiver through her, and dispelled for ever the spirit of mischief in connection with her bearing toward her father. Not that there was anything dreadful in the sight, on the contrary, peace and quietness reigned throughout the house. Perhaps it was the utter stillness that caused the birth of sadness in the gay young heart. The room itself was bare and almost furnitureless, but it was scrupulously clean. The white-page 34washed ceiling and walls, the well scrubbed floor and table, the wide open fireplace, all sparkled in the bright lamp-light. On the table a place was laid for a single tea: clean white cloth, cup and saucer, two empty plates, knife and fork, sugar, milk, etc. Several wooden chaire were scattered about the room. These, with the exception of a large cupboard, constituted the furniture of that up-country kitchen. Much that was necessary for the comfort of inland settlers was lacking here, but this was due to the improper roads, and to the dislike of hazarding an unnecessary journey.

One solitary figure occupied that room. An elderly gentleman was standing beside the mantelpiece, and gazing into the glowing embers of a heaped-up log fire. His back was toward her, but Nellie knew by the pose of that quiet figure, that the face was full of thought. Ah! it was the pose that had sent the chill through her warm heart, and almost froze the blood in her veins. Afraid of giving too great a surprise, Nellie began shuffling her feet. The gentleman turned.

"Father."

"Nellie," and father clasped the hand of daughter. A moment's pause: dark eyes were looking up into anxious grey ones.

"Is there anything wrong at home, child?" Mr. Main's grave fatherly voice broke the stillness.

"No, father; I wanted to ride Beauty, and mamma said I could come and see you."

With a sigh of relief Mr. Main turned back to the fireplace.

"You cooking? How is that father? Let me do it for you."

"No, no, child! sit down," and motioning her to a chair he continued, half sadly, "My house-keeper left me to-day. I page 35shall have to do my own cooking now, I suppose. But where is your horse, Nellie?"

"Tied up on the road, father; I could not open the gate."

Mr. Main smiled. Like the Main stud, the Main gates were noted for their sterling qualities. Nellie was not the only one who could not make that lock yield to her touch; and what was still more peculiar, that lock did not require a key, or at least it did not require a steel key, for it would open to no other than the key of knowledge, and that key Mr. Main was very careful to whom he gave it.

Presently the man-of-all-works came in. "John!" said his master, "go and unsaddle Miss Nellie's horse, it is tied up at the front gate. Put her in the house paddock, and don't forget to hobble her. She is a devil to catch."

When John had gone, the father placed a cup and saucer beside his own, and drew down a plate from the rack. Then remembering the long ride his daughter had undergone, h turned to her and spoke more gently than was his wont.

"Go to the room, lass, and take off your habit. You know where everything is kept. Then come and have some supper."

The girl rose and crossed the room. There was nothing unusual in the meeting. Others had been the same. Nay; some had even been more affectionate. For, often when the father came to town, he had been tempted into pressing a kiss upon his daughter's cheek. But that scene, with its melancholy figure by the fireplace, made a lasting impression upon the thoughtless girl; and in the words, "My housekeeper left me to-day," Nellie unconsciously traced the commencement of coming troubles. When she returned to the kitchen her father was seated at the table. She took her place beside him, and together they ate their quiet supper.

page 36

Mr. Main was not a talkative man. Indeed, it was often hard to get him to say more than monosyllables; but when once he spoke you were obliged to listen. Not that he was loud and arrogant, he never was that; nor that he was eloquent, but that he was grave, quiet, and had the dignity of conviction. He might never be able to convince you, but you could not help seeing he was convinced himself, and that, either from want of fluency or from reserve, he refrained from arguing. His was no dashing character formed to shine forth and captivate the world; his was a nature more after the sea than the air: too deep for sudden gushes, too stable for eminence, too plodding for utter failure. The world had not been extra kind to him, and perhaps that had something to do with that melancholy inclination of seeking to hide himself in silence. In person he was not tall—rather inclined to be short, with prominent features. Eyes of deepest grey, but eyes that would be all pupils under certain lights. Short well-kept beard, once fair, now slightly threaded with grey. Brow, high, broad and remarkably white; and the fair wavy hair, so soft, so silky, stood proudly back, and defied all persuasion to bend over the noble brow. Thus although the lower part of the face was brown and tanned with the sun, yet the deeply-wrinkled forehead retained its natural whiteness, and although circumstances had given the man a melancholy air, yet there were often flashes from a dormant nature beyond even the touch of far-reaching secularism.

The night drifted into day and Nellie returned to her home and her work; and into the daily routine of ordinary life she carried her self-taught, nay, Christ-taught, lessons.

Babies had to be nursed; stockings darned; meals prepared. Four little girls had to be got ready for school every morning; and six times four little pinafores had to be washed and ironed every week. Nellie's hands were full. But every being has its double, and although the apparent life was page 37confined to every-day work, the real life was being trained and fitted to fill other than an every-day sphere. Life to Nellie was one long disturbed dream, of which washing, scrubbing and ironing, played but an inferior part.