Lost Lenore Part 62

On our arrival in Melbourne, we all went together to the Union Hotel.

After engaging rooms, we proceeded to the purchase of some clothes--in order that we might make a respectable appearance in the streets of the city. My brother was in breathless haste to get himself rigged out; and we knew his reason. He intended to spend the evening in the society of his future wife and her mother.

At an early hour in the afternoon, he took leave of us.

Olliphant and I were compelled to kill the time the best way we could; but the trouble of doing so was not great: since there are but few cities of equal size with Melbourne, where so much time and money are devoted to the purpose of amus.e.m.e.nt.

Next day, I accepted an invitation from my brother, to accompany him on a visit to his sweetheart. She and her mother were living in a small house in Collingwood. When we arrived at the door, it was opened by a rather delicate ladylike woman, about forty years of age. She received my brother with a pleasant smile; and I was introduced to Mrs Morell.

The young lady soon made her appearance, from an adjoining room; and, after greeting my brother in a manner that gave me gratification to witness, I was introduced to her.

Sarah Morell was, what might have been called by any one, a pretty girl.

She had not the beauty of my lost Lenore, nor was she perhaps even as beautiful as my sister Martha; but there was a sweet expression in her features, a charm in her smile, and a music in her gentle voice, that were all equally attractive; and I could not help thinking, that my brother had made choice of a woman worthy of his honest and confiding love.

She talked but little, during the interview--allowing most of the conversation to be carried on by her mother; but, from the little she did say; and the glance of her eyes--as she fixed them on the manly form of my brother--I could tell that he was beloved.

By that glance, I could read pride and reverence for the man upon whom she had bestowed her heart; and that she felt for him that affection I once hoped to win from Lenore.

How superior was my brother's fate to mine! He was beloved by the one he loved. He was in her presence; and they were soon to be man and wife. He was happy--happy as youth can be, when blessed with hope, love, wealth, and health. I was happy also; but it consisted only in seeing others blessed with the happiness, which I was myself denied.

After pa.s.sing some hours in the cheerful companions.h.i.+p, of Mrs and Miss Morell, my brother and I returned to our hotel--where we found `The Elephant' in a very unamiable mood. He had just ascertained, that he would have to stay three days longer in Melbourne: as there was no steamer to start for Sydney before the third day from that time.

After a council held between my brother and myself, it was resolved that I should go on to Sydney with the Elephant; and try to induce our sister Martha to accompany me back to Melbourne. The pleasure of meeting a long-lost brother, and of being present at his wedding, we hoped, would be sufficient inducement to cause her to change her resolution, and consent to live with relatives, who were only too anxious to support and protect her.

Since William had been told of our mother's death, he appeared to take much more interest in Martha's welfare; and urged upon me, not to come back to Melbourne, without bringing her along with me. We could not, he said, feel happy, returning to England, and leaving our sister alone in the colonies.

I promised to use every effort in the accomplishment of his wishes-- which, of course, were but the echoes of my own.

Miss Morell, on hearing that her lover had a sister in Sydney, insisted on the marriage being postponed, until Martha should arrive.

"I am willing to be married the very day your sister comes," said she, adding in her artless manner, "I shall wait with great impatience until I have seen her."

It is hardly necessary to say, that these conditions redoubled William's anxiety for the speedy arrival of our sister; and, before taking leave of him, I was compelled to make a most emphatic promise of a speedy return. Olliphant, without knowing the object of my visit to Sydney, was gratified to hear that we were to continue our travelling companions.h.i.+p still further; and in joyous spirits we stepped aboard the steamer bound to that place.

Volume Three, Chapter XIX.

A MILLINER'S YARN.

The Melbourne steamer made the port of Sydney, at a late hour of the night. On landing, we proceeded direct to a hotel, where, after some difficulty, we obtained accommodation for the night.

In the morning, after eating our breakfast--which in Sydney is the most important meal of the day--my companion and I walked out into the streets. We soon parted company--each taking a different direction, since each had his own affairs to attend to.

I proceeded direct to the house where I had left my sister, two years before. I was both surprised, and disappointed, at not finding her there; and perceiving that the house was no longer a milliner's shop.

I inquired for the people who formerly occupied the premises; but could learn nothing of them.

"I am justly served," thought I, "I should have corresponded with my sister; and this disappointment could not have happened."

My relatives had been lost to me once. That should have been a warning.

I should have taken precautions against a recurrence of this misfortune. Instead of doing so, I had led Martha to believe, that I had gone back to England; and during my absence had never written to her. I now perceived how foolishly I had acted; and felt as if I deserved never to see my sister again.

I should have been more deeply aggrieved by my conduct, but that I still entertained the hope of being able to find her.

Sydney was not a large city; and if my sister was still within its limits, there was no reason why I should not discover her whereabouts-- especially with the energy and perseverance I determined to make use of in the search.

This search I lost no time in inst.i.tuting. I turned into the next street--though rather mechanically than otherwise: for I was still undecided as to how I should act.

All at once I remembered, that the woman, with whom Martha had gone into partners.h.i.+p, was a Mrs Green. I remembered, too, hearing Mrs Green say, that she had resided in Sydney for several years. Some one, therefore, should know her; and, if she could be found, it was natural to infer, that I should learn something of Martha.

While sauntering along the street, into which I had entered, my eye fell upon a little shop, which bore the sign of a milliner over the window.

That should be the place for me to commence my inquiries. I entered the shop, where I saw standing behind a counter the worst-looking woman I had ever beheld. She was not ugly, from having a positively hideous face, or ill-formed features; but rather from the spirit that gave expression to both. It was a combination of wicked pa.s.sions--comprising self-esteem, insolence, avarice, and everything that makes human nature despicable. The woman was dressed in a style that seemed to say: "vanity for sale."

I asked her, if she could give me any intelligence of a Mrs Green, who formerly kept a milliner's shop in the next street.

A disgusting grin suddenly spread over the features of the woman, as she promptly replied, "Yes; Mrs Green was chased out of Sydney over a year ago. She thought to smash my business; but she got smashed herself."

"Can you tell me where she is to be found?" I inquired.

"Yes. She saw it wasn't no use to try to carry on business against me; and she's hooked it to Melbourne."

"There was a young woman with her, named Martha Stone," I continued, "can you tell me where _she_ is?"

"Yes. She's another beauty. I am not at all astonished at young men inquirin' for _her_. Don't think I am, mister. I've kept that lady from starving for the last six months; and I'm about tired of it, I can tell you. This is a nice world we live in, sure enough. What might you be wantin' with Miss Stone?"

"I wish to know where she is to be found--nothing more," I answered.

"Certainly. You wish to know where she is! Of course you do. Why not?" said the disgusting creature, in a tone, and with a significant leer, that I have ever since been vainly endeavouring to forget. "What right have you to think, that I should know where any such a person lives?" continued the woman. "I wish you to understand, sir, that _I am a lady_."

I should certainly never have thought it, without being told; but, not the least grateful for the information, I answered:

"You say, that you know where Miss Stone is to be found. I am her brother, and wish to find her."

"Oh! that's it, is it?" retorted the woman with a look of evident disappointment. Then, turning round, and forcing her neck someway up a narrow staircase, she screamed out, "Susan! Susan!"

Soon after, a very young girl--apparently half-starved--made her appearance at the bottom of the stairs.

"Susan," said the only woman I ever hated at first sight, "tell this man, where Miss Stone lives."

There was something not so bad in the creature after all; and I began to fancy, I had been wronging her.

"Please, sir," said Susan, pointing with outstretched arm towards one of the sides of the shop, "go up this street, till you come to the baker's shop; then turn round this way, and go on till you pa.s.s the public-house with the picture of the horse on it; then turn that way, and go on till you come to where the house was burnt down; cross the street there, and go on to the house where they sell lollies; go by that, and at the turning beyond go this way until you come to the house with the green window blinds--"

"That will do," I exclaimed. "I don't want to lose my senses, as well as my sister. Can you tell me, Susan, the name of the street, and the number of the house, in which Miss Stone resides?"

"No, sir, thank you," answered Susan.

"Can you go there--if this lady will give you leave?"

"Yes, sir, if you please," said the girl, glancing timidly at her mistress.