Lost Lenore Part 64

On leaving the house, my soul was stirred by conflicting emotions. I was wild with disappointment, sorrow and indignation.

It was wrong to part with my poor sister in such fas.h.i.+on; and my conscience told me so, before I had proceeded two hundred yards along the street. I should at least have given her some money, to relieve her from the extreme necessity which she was evidently in.

A moment's reflection, as I stopped in the street, told me it was my duty to do this, if nothing more.

I thought of sending her a few pounds after getting back to the hotel.

Then succeeded the reflection, that to do so would be more trouble, than to turn back, and give it to her myself. This thought decided me to return to the house, and see her once more. I retraced my steps; and again knocked at the door.

For some moments there was no answer; and I knocked again. I waited for nearly two minutes; and still there was no sign of my summons being answered.

I was on the point of bursting in the door, when it was opened by a man, whose huge frame almost filled the entrance from jamb to jamb. It was the Elephant! The truth instantly flashed upon my mind. It was for _him_ my sister had been waiting! She--was the sempstress for whom he had been toiling--the young girl spoken of in his story--she, whom he had said, he was going to return and marry!

Martha had flung herself into a chair; and appeared insensible.

I cannot remember that either Olliphant or I spoke on seeing one another. Each was too much surprised at meeting the other. And yet neither of us thought, there was anything strange in the circ.u.mstance.

Let those, who can, explain the singularity of our sentiments at that encounter. I cannot, and therefore shall not make the attempt. The attention of both of us was soon called to Martha, who had recovered consciousness.

"I thank G.o.d!" she cried out addressing me, "I thank G.o.d, Rowland, you have returned. You see, he has come back!" she continued, placing her hand on the broad shoulder of `the Elephant.' "I knew he would. I told you he was certain to come; and that it was not possible for him to deceive me. This is my brother, Alex," she added, turning to Olliphant.

"He wanted me to leave you; but don't blame him: for he did not know you, as I did. I've seen hard times, Alex; but the joy of this moment more than repays me for all."

It was some time before Olliphant and I had an opportunity of communicating with each other: for Martha seemed determined that no one should have anything to say but herself.

"What fools we have been!" exclaimed Olliphant, as soon as his sweetheart gave him a chance of speaking. "Had you told me that your name was Stone, and that you had a sister in Sydney, how much more pleasure we should have had in one another's society! You have nearly missed finding your brother; and either you or I have nearly lost your sister by keeping your name a secret. I know that for a man to talk to others of his family affairs is not strict etiquette; but the rules of that are often made by those who are only respected because they are unknown; or rather, because nothing concerning them can be told to their credit."

"You and I have been friends," continued the Elephant, still addressing his discourse to me. "Why should we have cared for etiquette? We ought to have acted independently of its requirements. Depend upon it, that open-hearted candour is ever preferable to secrecy."

I a.s.sured Olliphant, that I was convinced of the truth of this doctrine by late events; and that it was also my belief, an honest man has very little on his mind that need be concealed from his acquaintances.

The scene that followed was one of unalloyed happiness. It ended in the determination--that we should all three at once proceed to Melbourne; and that Olliphant and Martha should be married at the same time that my brother was to be united to Miss Morell.

It was ludicrous to witness the change, that had suddenly taken place in the sentiments of Martha. She no longer offered the slightest objection to leaving Sydney; but on the contrary, declared herself delighted at the prospect of going to Melbourne--a place, she said, she had been long desirous of seeing!

During the evening, the little slavey, Sarah, came over from the milliner's shop, with a bundle of sewing materials--which Martha was required to make up immediately.

"Tell your mistress," said Martha, "that I cannot afford to do any more work for her: for she does not pay me enough for it. Tell her, that I hope she will not be much disappointed; but that I really cannot sew any more for her. Will you tell her that?"

"Yes, thank you!" said Sarah, "but I don't think she'll be much disappointed: for she said she did not think you would do any more work now; and she only sent it to see."

We had enough to talk about that evening. Olliphant had been acquainted with our poor mother; and expressed much regret that she had died so unhappily.

We all had explanations to make; and Olliphant and I listened with equal interest to a long recital of my sister's struggle to maintain herself, and to an explanation of her sorrow at being unable to comply with my request, when I had entreated her to leave Sydney.

This confession was as pleasant to me as to the Elephant; but perhaps still pleasanter was it for him to hear that, during his long absence, she had never felt a doubt about his returning, and that such a suspicion had never remained for an instant in her mind.

As events had turned out, I could not regret that my sister had been, what I had too rashly termed foolish; and that her faith in Olliphant's promise had remained unshaken under such strong temptations, as those to which she had been subjected.

She had proved herself worthy of a good husband; and there was no one, whom I should have preferred seeing her united to, before the man, for whom she had so long and patiently waited.

Volume Three, Chapter XXII.

AT SEA.

On the third day after my arrival in Sydney, I started back for Melbourne, in the steamer "Warratah," accompanied by Olliphant and Martha.

On arriving at Melbourne, my sister was taken to the residence of Mrs Morell, where she had the pleasure of meeting her brother William; and making the acquaintance of her future sister-in-law.

Sarah Morell and Martha became warm friends upon sight; and on the evening of our return, a more happy party, than the one a.s.sembled in Mrs Morell's cottage, could not have been found in the colony.

At intervals, a thought of my own life-long disappointment would flash across my mind; but the sight of so many happy faces around me, would soon restore me to a feeling of tranquil contentment.

Next day, preparations were made for the double marriage, which took place shortly after.

The occasion was not marked by any grand ceremonial display--such as I have often witnessed at the "weddings" of lucky gold-diggers. All the arrangements were conducted with the same sense of propriety and taste, that appeared to have guided the previous conduct of the princ.i.p.al parties concerned.

My brother's honeymoon tour, was to be a voyage in the first s.h.i.+p that should sail for England. As I did not much like the idea of separating from him so soon; and, having no great desire to return to the diggings, I resolved to accompany him.

Olliphant and Martha only remained in Melbourne, until they should see us off, when they intended returning to Sydney to reside permanently in that city. The Elephant had gathered gold enough to set him up in some respectable business; and it was but natural he should prefer New South Wales--his native country--to any other. I knew that to my sister, all places were now alike; so long as she should be with her husband.

I do not much like travelling in a s.h.i.+p, where there is a large number of pa.s.sengers. It is something like going out for a walk, along a street crowded with people. When there are many pa.s.sengers in a vessel, there are likely to be some of a very disagreeable disposition, that will be sure to make itself manifest during the voyage. Moreover, in a crowded s.h.i.+p, the regulations require to be more rigidly enforced--thus rendering the pa.s.sage more irksome to all. There is much greater freedom of action, and generally more amus.e.m.e.nt, on board a s.h.i.+p carrying only a limited number of pa.s.sengers. For this reason, we took pa.s.sage in the first cabin of a small vessel--where we knew there would be only about twenty others besides ourselves.

The s.h.i.+p was bound direct for the port of London; the captain, whose name was Nowell, was to all appearance a gentleman; the accommodation, as regarded room and other necessary requirements, was satisfactory; and we set sail, with every prospect of a pleasant voyage.

As Captain Nowell was a man of sociable inclinings, he soon became a favourite with all his pa.s.sengers. Between him and myself an intimacy arose; and I pa.s.sed much of my time in his company--either at chess, or in talking about subjects connected with his calling, which I had not altogether forgotten. He appeared to take an interest in my future welfare; so much so, as frequently to converse with me on the subject of my getting married.

"Lucky gold-diggers," said he, "often go home in my s.h.i.+p in search of a wife; and not unfrequently get cheated in the quality of the article.

As I have some experience in matrimonial matters, you can't do better than let me choose a wife for you. Besides," he continued, "I have a young lady in view, that I think would just suit you. I have long been in search of a good husband for her; but have not yet met with a man, to whom I should think of confiding her happiness. From what I have seen of you, Mr Stone, I fancy I could trust her to your keeping."

Though perfectly indifferent about the captain's protegee, I could not help acknowledging the compliment.

"I only ask of you," he continued, "to make no rash engagements, after you arrive in England. Do nothing in that line till you have seen the girl; and then if you don't like her, there's no harm done."

I thanked the captain for his offer; and sighed, as I thought of the cruel fate, that had placed an impa.s.sible barrier between me and Lenore.

There is one thing in my narrative, that may appear remarkable to the reader--perhaps scarce truthful; and that is, the facility with which I made so many friends. An explanation of this may not be out of place.

I was always in earnest in what little I had to say. No one could converse long with me, without discovering that I was sincere in what I said. I do not claim this as a trait of character peculiar to myself; but I do affirm--as far as my experience has instructed me--that it is not so with the majority of mankind. Language is too often used, as the means for concealing thoughts--instead of expressing them.

Thousands of people say what they do not mean; and sometimes gain friends by it. But it is a friends.h.i.+p false as it is fleeting; and often confers on him who obtains it, more disappointment and trouble, than he would be likely to have with avowed enemies.

Nothing transpired during our home voyage, worthy of particular notice.

After pa.s.sing some small islands, that lie near the coast of Port Philip, we never sighted land again for three months!

On the ninety-second day of our voyage, the cheering cry of "Land ho!"

resounded through the s.h.i.+p; and, hastening on deck, we looked upon the white cliffs of Dover.

Great was the joy of Mrs Morell and her daughter, at once more beholding their native sh.o.r.es; and I could envy my brother, who had contributed so much to the happiness of others, and at the same time so successfully established his own.

We landed at Portsmouth; and proceeded to London by rail. Before parting with Captain Nowell--who had to remain a few days with his s.h.i.+p--I promised to visit him in his London house--the address of which he had already made known to me.