Force and Fraud (26 page)

“Hum! She is not an unlikely sort of girl to take these ideas into her head; at least, if I may judge from a certain exaltation of sentiment which she appears to inherit from her mother. I knew Mrs McAlpin well many years ago, and therefore feel a strong interest in her daughter. She is my ward, you know.”

“I am aware of the circumstance, and if you had been in the colony, the poor girl need not have taken so prominent a part; but it is highly creditable to her, whether she be sincerely attached to Lindsey or not.”

“Who told you that she was
not
attached to him?”

“Why, I was told so in strict confidence, and should not have spoken to you on the subject were you not her guardian. Besides, there is a good deal of stupid business about the will; and, after all, it is quite natural that the young lady should endeavour to shape her course as not to forfeit a just inheritance.”

“Yes, but she is totally free in that respect, as far as I can see.”

“I don't agree with you there, for if she should marry Lindsey–”

At this moment a lady began to sing in so very high a key that the gentlemen, not being able to hear each other speak, broke off the conversation, Mr Manners saying that he should like to discuss the subject with Mr Argueville at his convenience.

 

Mr Silverton was sitting one afternoon in a small room that he usually occupied at
The Southern Cross
. He was giving audience to the superintendent of the Mount Alpin station, to a stockrider he had lately engaged, and to three or four other people of higher or lower degree – for Mr Silverton was now a man of some consequence, although his exact position was not very clearly defined.

During the lifetime of Mr McAlpin he had been his agent, but now the station itself being debatable property, he could not be said to be the agent of its late owner's daughter. Neither was he the
real
possessor of those broad acres, though it was beginning to be hinted that he would be hereafter;
and
the husband of the young lady into the bargain. He had been spending a great part of the morning in her society, and, although Bessie was decidedly in the way, he
did
contrive to be alone with Flora for five minutes during which he talked of devotedness, of unalterable attachment, and of everything just stopping short of Love. This word he did not dare to utter, as Flora turned away, looking (as he thought) a little angry at first, and then very sympathising. Another moment and he would have risked a second avowal, but Miss Garlick entered, and Pierce Silverton fell from the seventh heaven to the lower earth.

But now he was haranguing his employees with the authority of a master; though every now and then he referred to their common interest in Miss McAlpin's affairs with so much patter that he seemed to be less
their
lord than
her
slave. At length his satellites vanished, and he stretched himself on his sofa to dream of love.

Very much at his ease was Mr Silverton in his inn. Mrs Roberts liked everyone to be at his ease, as well as herself; and certainly no one ever studied the comfort of lodgers as she did.

The public room (before alluded) was not her province; but there was another apartment devoted to boarders – and there she would occasionally sit when certain friends were present, or when the coach brought any passengers she delighted to honour. In this room, breakfast, dinner and a substantial repast, inviting the advantages of tea and supper were duly served; and there Mr Silverton partook of his meals with the other boarders. But he had
entree
to another room, very neatly furnished, and possessing very little of the ordinary hotel character, with the exception of the elaborate display of plate and pickles, glass and gewgaws on a substantial sideboard. The window of this apartment, opening like a door, was dressed with curtains of washed muslin, inside others of green damask. The verandah, on to which it opened, and which shaded three sides of the house, was barred off in front of this room by a light wooden railing, approached by a small gate.

To inhabit this privileged spot it was necessary either to pay a very high price, or to be a very great favourite with Mrs Roberts. In this latter respect Pierce Silverton stood only second to Herbert Lindsey. Notwithstanding the good landlady's hospitality, she had an eye to the main chance, and therefore it is to be inferred that Mr Silverton
did
pay for the good things he enjoyed. At all events he was surrounded with a great many luxuries. Plenty of wood to burn if he was cold; a cheerful aspect, added to which every appurtenance for making his room as dark as he chose; and (in consideration of his health), heaps of pillows and cushions strewed about the sofa, as well as permission to kick away the antimacassar if he thought fit. Every day, there were jellies and blanc-mange served in such profusion that the sight of them would have made young O'Twig's mouth water for a week.

A pet invalid is always a privileged person; very much to be envied when not particularly ill and possessing a good income, moreover one who imagines his love suit will be successful at last.

Such, at that moment, was Pierce Silverton. If he had no other anxiety, he might truly be pronounced a happy man; and so he was for the time, as he lay fast asleep dreaming of Love and Flora.

 

Pierce Silverton dreamt that he had heard the bells ringing for his marriage, but his dream and his sleep were suddenly ended by a ringing of another sort: the thirsty frequenters of the public room summoning the waiter to replenish their glasses. Pierce started up, and the airy vision of a bridal procession faded away.

Considering the happy nature of his dreams, his awakening thoughts were strangely painful; perhaps reality had too quickly succeeded to imagination, and the object of this harsh exterior world too rudely crowded on the sweeter creations of the Ideal. But, after a little while, he thoroughly roused himself, and went into the dining room to discuss common-place events with common-place people.

The mail had arrived, bringing him two or three letters, although of little importance as it would seem, for they were soon read and thrown aside for the daily papers.

He glanced at the leading article, shrugged his shoulders at the politics, skimmed over the general news, just saw that there
was
a list of births, deaths, and marriages, and then joked over the shipping intelligence. This was an important item to Mr Silverton, as the wool season had commenced, and he would soon have to busy himself about exports, etc. So, having conned the Projected Departures, he naturally turned to the Arrivals. Amongst these he saw the name of the
Robespierre.
All this time he had been sitting on the edge of a table in the dining-room, but now he took the journal into his own apartment, where he again threw himself on the sofa.

Why did he sigh so heavily? What ill-news met his eye? What news at all, excepting the arrival of Mr Manners, and he was an old acquaintance, a friend; as all the other passengers were strangers. There might perhaps be some melancholy association connected with that ship; or he might be deeply shocked by the intelligence, briefly stated, respecting the swamping of the boat. But it sometimes happens, notwithstanding the general urbanity of Mr Silverton, that his manner was rather peculiar. This, however, might proceed from delicate health – an admitted excuse for shortcomings of all sorts. Be it as it may, the journal was cast on the floor, and when Mary summoned Mr Silverton to tea, she found him resting his head on the table in the most disconsolate of attitudes. After calling to him several times in vain, she shook him gently by the shoulder, until he looked up; but such gloom was on his countenance that the tender-hearted girl returned to the kitchen with tears in her eyes, bewailing the destiny of those who are crossed in love.

“Serve him right!” exclaimed Harry, who was present. “What business has he to be hankering after another man's sweetheart?”

“Oh, but love can't be helped Harry.”

“Eh! What's that?”

“Love comes and goes without our bidding, Harry.”

“The devil it does! And so if that Yankee driver makes love to you, you mean to say that– But hang me, if I stand this gammon!”

And so, poor Mary who sought to excuse the weakness of one man, roused the jealousy of another.

But, contrary to the expectation of Mrs Roberts – who had been informed by her faithful domestic of Mr Silverton's apparent illness – that gentleman seemed quite himself on the following morning; and, at his accustomed hour, rode to Mount Alpin.

On arriving there, he found Bessie Garlick alone, and to her great delight, he began jesting with her as he had formerly done, pelting her with cotton-balls and every article that came in his way. The poor girl's hopes were awakened, and she fancied that her empire was about to be restored. But, thinking it was now
her
turn to play the tyrant, she said, “Get away, you disagreeable creature! Do you think I am going to take any notice of you, after your ingratitude?”

Oh! Bessie, why have you not more pride than to betray your secret to one who loves you not? But, notwithstanding the ingratitude, and perhaps the treachery of Pierce, he was too generous to exhibit any signs of triumph; on the contrary, he took her hand very kindly, saying, “Wait a little, Bessie, and you'll find that I can appreciate your goodness.”

At that moment Flora entered, very much to the annoyance of her rival, and, for the first time,
not
to the satisfaction of Pierce. But as
she
did not seem to be displeased at his evident familiarity with Bessie, he soon recovered his self-possession; or rather, he forced himself to be gay and, as a natural consequence, overacted his part. At length, when his excitement subsided a little, he told Miss McAlpin that he had news for her.

“What is it? Anything about Herbert?” she asked.

“No, although I have heard that he is getting on famously; quite taken up with a pretty – hem – a landscape he is painting. But it is of Mr Manners I have to speak; he has returned, and here is a newspaper, where you will find an account of his voyage.”

Miss McAlpin expressed her satisfaction at the idea of so soon seeing her father's friend again, but scarcely had she done speaking, ere the gentleman in question was announced.

He was warmly welcomed by those whom he immediately supposed to be lovers. When, at a later hour he accompanied Mr Silverton to a part of the station which in the lifetime of McAlpin had been little better than waste ground, but which was now in a state of high cultivation, he thought it would be the best thing that could happen if these young people were to make a match of it; as Mr Silverton was a clever managing fellow, and that wandering artist not fit to marry a girl like Miss McAlpin.

Mr Manners then complimented his companion on his improvements, and the conversation turning on the will, he added, “I should inform you that I am in possession of a letter addressed to me by Mr McAlpin shortly before his death, in which he stated that– But I am not at liberty to reveal all at present, so I shall merely say that the writer wished to put Lindsey to the proof, and the time has not yet arrived for the ordeal to cease.”

“God grant he may be worthy of her, and that these rumours may be false! But I should not have spoken of this,” said Mr Silverton.

Then, as both gentlemen seemed anxious to preserve a degree of reticence, and neither to be very well able to do so, they by tacit consent, changed the subject to more indifferent topics.

“Oh, by the way,” said Mr Manners, “I have a favour to ask of you.”

“Command me in any way,” replied Mr Silverton.

“It is only a trifle. Can you find employment for a poor fellow who came out in the
Robespierre
?”

After a moment's hesitation, Mr Silverton made inquiries into the man's character.

To which Mr Manners answered that his
protégé
seemed a decent lad, a stranger in the colony, that his brother had been drowned at sea. “I feel a strong interest in the youth, as well as in his father, and would have taken him into my service, but that he wishes to be near the old man, whom I have consigned to our friend, Roberts.”

Mr Silverton now spoke with more certainty, and said he would employ the young man at once, and do anything else to oblige Mr Manners.

The gentlemen soon after rode together to the township, where Mr Manners heard several rumours relative to the fickleness of Herbert Lindsey; and though he highly recommended the reserve of Pierce Silverton with regard to his friend, he thought he would observe what was going on with his own eyes; and his residence being near the spot where the young artist was then sojourning, he would have an excellent opportunity of so doing. A day or two later, Mr Manners left for South Australia,

Things seemed to be going on in their usual way: Mr Silverton paying his daily visits to Mount Alpin, yielding himself more and more to his passion for Flora, but at the same time endeavouring to amuse Bessie with his occasional attentions. Yet, whenever a letter was received from Lindsey, he could scarcely suppress his agitation, although he flattered himself that these letters were becoming less frequent.

At the same time, the conduct of Flora did not altogether escape comment; but, if inexplicable to the public in general, it had evidently satisfied her guardian. According to a dialogue which had been overheard, when that gentlemen expressed some surprise that she should remain in that secluded spot, instead of living in the metropolis, she had replied, “I suffered so much whilst I was there, from being forced into notice, that I have resolved to remain quietly here till the expiration of the year; it will then be time enough for me to act.”

The speech certainly admitted of more than one interpretation; but that of Pierce Silverton was, that she intended to watch the conduct of Herbert, and if by any means convinced of his infidelity, then…
He
might hope.