CHAPTER I

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A BRIDE FROM THE BUSH

by

Ernest Wm. Hornung

Collins' Clear-Type Press

London & Glasgow

[Illustration: B.B. _Chap. 4._

'She looked very fresh and buoyant in the summer morning.']

CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE

I. A LETTER FROM ALFRED 9

II. HOME IN STYLE 24

III. PINS AND NEEDLES 35

IV. A TASTE OF HER QUALITY 49

V. GRANVILLE ON THE SITUATION 61

VI. COMPARING NOTES 71

VII. IN RICHMOND PARK 81

VIII. GRAN'S REVENGE 96

IX. E TENEBRIS LUX 112

X. PLAIN SAILING 129

XI. A THUNDER-CLAP 142

XII. PAST PARDON 151

XIII. A SOCIAL INFLICTION 160

XIV. 'HEAR MY PRAYER!' 172

XV. THE FIRST PARTING 186

XVI. TRACES 194

XVII. WAITING FOR THE WORST 209

XVIII. THE BOUNDARY-RIDER OF THE YELKIN PADDOCK 228

XIX. ANOTHER LETTER FROM ALFRED 244

CHAPTER I

A LETTER FROM ALFRED

There was consternation in the domestic camp of Mr Justice Bligh on

the banks of the Thames. It was a Sunday morning in early summer.

Three-fourths of the family sat in ominous silence before the mockery

of a well-spread breakfast-table: Sir James and Lady Bligh and their

second son, Granville. The eldest son--the missing complement of this

family of four--was abroad. For many months back, and, in fact, down

to this very minute, it had been pretty confidently believed that the

young man was somewhere in the wilds of Australia; no one had quite

known where, for the young man, like most vagabond young men, was a

terribly meagre corespondent; nor had it ever been clear why any one

with leisure and money, and of no very romantic turn, should have left

the beaten track of globe-trotters, penetrated to the wilderness, and

stayed there--as Alfred Bligh had done. Now, however, all was plain. A

letter from Brindisi, just received, explained everything; Alfred's

movements, so long obscure, were at last revealed, and in a lurid

light--that, as it were, of the bombshell that had fallen and burst

upon the Judge's breakfast-table. For Alfred was on his way to England

with an Australian wife; and this letter from Brindisi, was the first

that his people had heard of it, or of her.

'Of course,' said Lady Bligh, in her calm and thoughtful manner, 'it

was bound to happen sooner or later. It might have happened very much

sooner; and, indeed, I often wished that it would; for Alfred must

be--what? Thirty?'

'Quite,' said Granville; 'I am nearly that myself.'

'Well, then,' said Lady Bligh gently, looking tenderly at the Judge

(whose grave eyes rested upon the sunlit lawn outside), 'from one

point of view--a selfish one--we ought to consider ourselves the most

fortunate of parents. And this news should be a matter for rejoicing,

as it would be, if--if it were only less sudden, and wild,

and--and----'

Her voice trembled; she could not go on.

'And alarming,' added Granville briskly, pulling himself together and

taking an egg.

Then the Judge spoke.

'I should like,' he said, 'to hear the letter read slowly from

beginning to end. Between us, we have not yet given it a fair chance;

we have got only the drift of it; we may have overlooked something.

Granville, perhaps you will read the letter aloud to your mother and

me?'

Granville, who had just laid open his egg with great skill,

experienced a moment's natural annoyance at the interruption. To stop

to read a long letter now was, he felt, treating a good appetite

shabbily, to say nothing of the egg. But this was not a powerful

feeling; he concealed it. He had a far stronger appetite than the mere

relish for food; the intellectual one. Granville had one of the nicest

intellects at the Junior Bar. His intellectual appetite was so hearty,

and even voracious, that it could be gratified at all times and

places, and not only by the loaves and fishes of full-bodied wit, but

by the crumbs and fishbones of legal humour--such as the reading

aloud of indifferent English and ridiculous sentiments in tones

suitable to the most chaste and classic prose. This he had done in

court with infinite gusto, and he did it now as he would have done it

in court.

'"My dear Mother"' (he began reading, through a single eyeglass that

became him rather well),--'"Before you open this letter you'll see

that I'm on my way home! I am sorry I haven't written you for so long,

and _very_ sorry I didn't before I sailed. I should think when I last

wrote was from Bindarra. But I must come at once to my great

news--which Heaven knows how I'm to tell you, and how you'll take it

when I do. Well, I will, in two words--the fact is, _I'm married_! My

wife is the daughter of 'the boss of Bindarra'--in other words, a

'squatter' with a 'run' (or territory) as big as a good many English

counties."'

The crisp forensic tones were dropped for an explanatory aside. 'He

evidently _means_--father' (Granville nearly said 'my lord,' through

force of habit), 'that his father-in-law is the squatter; not his

wife, which is what he _says_. He writes in such a slipshod style. I

should also think he means that the territory in question is equal in

size to certain English counties, individually (though this I venture

to doubt), and not--what you would infer--to several counties put

together. His literary manner was always detestable, poor old chap;

and, of course, Australia was hardly likely to improve it.'

The interpolation was not exactly ill-natured; but it was received in

silence; and Granville's tones, as he resumed the reading, were even

more studiously unsympathetic than before.

'"Of my Bride I will say very little; for you will see her in a week

at most. As for myself, I can only tell you, dear Mother, that I am

the very luckiest and happiest man on earth!"' ('A brave statement,'

Granville murmured in parenthesis; 'but they all make it.') '"She is

typically Australian, having indeed been born and bred in the Bush,

and is the first to admit it, being properly proud of her native land;

but, if you knew the Australians as I do, this would not frighten you.

Far from it, for the typical Australian is one of the very highest if

not _the_ highest development of our species."' (Granville read that

sentence with impressive gravity, and with such deference to the next

as to suggest no kind of punctuation, since the writer had neglected

it.) '"But as you, my dear Mother, are the very last person in the

world to be prejudiced by mere mannerisms, I won't deny that she has

one or two--_though, mind you, I like them!_ And, at least, you may

look forward to seeing the most beautiful woman you ever saw in your

life--though I say it.

'"Feeling sure that you will, as usual, be 'summering' at Twickenham,

I make equally sure that you will be able and willing to find room for

us; at the same time, we will at once commence looking out for a

little place of our own in the country, with regard to which we have

plans which will keep till we see you. But, while we are with you, I

thought I would be able to show my dear girl the principal sights of

the Old Country, which, of course, are mostly in or near town, and

which she is dying to see.

'"Dear Mother, I know I _ought_ to have consulted you, or at least

told you, beforehand. The whole thing was impulsive, I admit. But if

you and my Father will forgive me for this--take my word for it, you

will soon find out that it is all you have to forgive! Of course, I

am writing to my Father as much as to you in this letter--as he will

be the first to understand. With dearest love to you both (not

forgetting Gran), in which Gladys joins me (though she doesn't know I

am saying so).

'"Believe me as ever,

'"Your affectionate Son,

'"Alfred."'

'Thank you,' said the Judge, shortly.

The soft dark eyes of Lady Bligh were wet with tears.

'I think,' she said, gently, 'it is a very tender letter. I know of no

man but Alfred that could write such a boyish, simple letter--not that

I don't enjoy your clever ones, Gran. But then Alfred never yet wrote

to me without writing himself down the dear, true-hearted,

affectionate fellow he is; only here, of course, it comes out doubly.

But does he not mention her maiden name?'

'No, he doesn't,' said Granville. 'You remarked the Christian name,

though? Gladys! I must say it sounds unpromising. Mary, Eliza,

Maria----one would have rather liked a plain, homely, farm-yard sort

of name for a squatter's daughter. But Ermyntrude, or Elaine, or

Gladys! These are names of ill-omen; you expect de Vere coming after

them, or even worse.'

'What _is_ a squatter, Gran?' asked Lady Bligh abruptly.

'A squatter? I don't know,' said Gran, paring the ham daintily as he

answered. 'I don't know, I'm sure; something to do with bushranging, I

should imagine--but I really can't tell you.'

But there was a set of common subjects of which Gran was profoundly

and intentionally ignorant; and it happened that Greater Britain was

one of them. If he had known for certain whether Sydney (for instance)

was a town or a colony or an island, he would have kept the knowledge

carefully to himself, and been thoroughly ashamed of it. And it was

the same with other subjects understanded of the Board-scholars. This

queer temper of mind is not indeed worth analysing; nevertheless, it

is peculiar to a certain sort of clever young fellows, and Granville

Bligh was a very fair specimen of the clever young fellow. He was

getting on excellently at the Bar, for so young a man. He also wrote a

little, with plenty of impudence and epigram, if nothing else. But

this was not his real line. Still, what he did at all, he did more or

less cleverly. There was cleverness in every line of his smooth dark

face; there was uncommon shrewdness in his clear gray eyes. His father

had the same face and the same eyes--with this difference added to the

differences naturally due to age: there were wisdom, and dignity, and

humanity in the face and glance of the Judge; but the nobility of

expression thus given was not inherited by the Judge's younger son.

The Judge spoke again, breaking a silence of some minutes:--

'As you say, Mildred, it seems to have been all very wild and sudden;

but when we have said this, we have probably said the worst there is

to say. At least, let us hope so. Of my own knowledge many men have

gone to Australia, as Alfred went, and come back with the best of

wives. I seem to have heard, Granville, that that is what Merivale

did; and I have met few more admirable women than Mrs Merivale.'

'It certainly is the case, sir,' said Granville, who had been

patronised to some extent by Merivale, Q.C. 'But Mrs Merivale was

scarcely "born and bred in the Bush"; and if she had what poor Alfred,

perhaps euphemistically, calls "mannerisms"--I have detected no

traces of any myself--when Merivale married her, at least she had

money.'

'Your sister-in-law may have "money," too,' said Sir James, with

somewhat scornful emphasis. 'That is of no consequence at all. Your

brother has enough for both, and more than enough for a bachelor.'

There was no need to remind the young man of that; it had been a sore

point, and even a raw one, with Granville since his boyhood; for it

was when the brothers were at school together--the younger in the

Sixth Form, the elder in the Lower Fifth--and it was already plain

which one would benefit the most by 'private means,' that a relative

of Sir James had died, leaving all her money to Alfred.

Granville coloured slightly--very slightly--but observed:--

'It is a good thing he has.'

'What do you mean?' the Judge asked, with some asperity.

'That he needs it,' said Granville, significantly.

Sir James let the matter drop, and presently, getting up, went out by

the open French window, and on to the lawn. It was not his habit to

snub his son; he left that to the other judges, in court. But Lady

Bligh remonstrated in her own quiet way--a way that had some effect

even upon Granville.

'To sneer at your brother's inferior wits, my son, is not in quite

nice taste,' she said; 'and I may tell you, now, that I did not at all

care for your comments upon his letter.'

Granville leant back in his chair and laughed pleasantly.

'How seriously you take one this morning! But it is small wonder that

you should, for the occasion is a sufficiently serious one, in all

conscience; and indeed, dear mother, I am as much put out as you are.

Nay,' Granville added, smiling blandly, 'don't say that you're _not_

put out, for I can see that you _are_. And we have reason to be put

out'--he became righteously indignant--'all of us. I wouldn't have

thought it of Alfred, I wouldn't indeed! No matter whom he wanted to

marry, he ought at least to have written first, instead of being in

such a violent hurry to bring her over. It is treating _you_, dear

mother, to say the best of it, badly; and as for the Judge, it is

plain that he is quite upset by the unfortunate affair.'

'We have no right to assume that it is unfortunate, Gran.'

'Well, I hope it is not, that's _all_,' said Gran, with great

emphasis. 'I hope it is not, for poor Alfred's sake. Yet, as you know,

mother, he's the very kind of old chap to get taken in and imposed

upon; and--I tell you frankly--I tremble for him. If he is the victim

of a designing woman, I am sorry for him, from my soul I am! If he has

married in haste--and he has--to repent at leisure--as he may--though

this is trite and detestable language, I pity him, from my soul I do!

You have already rebuked me--I don't say unjustly--for making what, I

admit, had the appearance of an odious and egotistical comparison; I

will guard against conveying a second impression of that kind; yet I

think I may safely say, without bragging, that I know the world rather

better than old Alfred does. Well, I have, I will not say my fears,

but my dreads; and I cannot help having them. If they are realised, no

one will sympathise with poor dear Alfred more deeply than I shall.'

Lady Bligh looked keenly at her eloquent son; a half-smile played

about her lips: she understood him, to some extent.

'But what if your fears are _not_ realised?' she said, quietly.

'Why, then,' said Gran, less fluently, 'then I--oh, of course, I shall

be delighted beyond words; no one will be more delighted than I.'

'Then you shall see,' said Lady Bligh, rising, with a sweet and

hopeful smile, 'that is how it is going to turn out; I have a

presentiment that it will all turn out for the best. So there is only

one thing to be done--we must prepare to welcome her to our hearts!'

Granville shrugged his shoulders, but his mother did not see him; she

had gone quietly from the room and was already climbing (slowly, for

she was stout) the stairs that led up to her own snuggery on the first

floor. This little room was less of a boudoir than a study, and more

like an office than either, for it was really a rather bare little

room. Its most substantial piece of furniture was a large unlovely

office-table, and its one picture was framed in the window-sashes--a

changeful picture of sky and trees, and lawn and river, painted this

morning in the most radiant tints of early summer. At the

office-table, which was littered with letters and pamphlets, Lady

Bligh spent diligent hours every day. She was a person of both mental

and manual activity, with public sympathies and interests that

entailed an immense correspondence. She was, indeed, one of the most

charitable and benevolent of women, and was to some extent a public

woman. But we have nothing to do with her public life, and, on this

Sunday morning, no more had she.

There were no pictures on the walls, but there were photographs upon

the chimney-piece. Lady Bligh stood looking at them for an unusually

long time--in fact, until the sound of the old church bells, coming in

through the open window, called her away.

One of the photographs was of the Judge--an excellent one, in which

the dear old gentleman looked his very best, dignified but kindly.

Another was a far too flattering portrait of Granville. A third

portrait was that of an honest, well-meaning, and rather handsome

face, with calm dark eyes, exactly like Lady Bligh's; and this was the

erratic Alfred. But the photograph that Lady Bligh looked at longest,

and most fondly, was a faded one of Alfred and Granville as mere

schoolboys. She loved her two sons so dearly! One of them was much

changed, and becoming somewhat spoilt, to phrase it mildly; yet that

son was rather clever, and his mother saw his talents through a strong

binocular, and his faults with her eyes at the wrong end of it; and

she loved him in spite of the change in him, and listened--at least

with tolerance--to the airings of a wit that was always less good

natured, and generally less keen, than she imagined it. But the other

son had never changed at all; even his present fatal letter showed

that. He was still a boy at heart--a wild, stupid, affectionate

schoolboy. There was no denying it: in his mother's heart the elder

son was the best beloved of the two.

And it was this one who had married with so much haste and

mystery--the favourite son, the son with money, the son who might have

married any one he pleased. It was hard to choke down prejudice when

this son was bringing home a wife from the Bush, of all places!

What would she be like? What _could_ she be like?