IN ENGLAND.
"I suppose you have not settled yet as to what ship you will return by,
Atherton?" Mr. Renshaw asked as the party were gathered in the verandah
in the evening.
"No," Mr. Atherton replied, absently watching the smoke of his cigar as
it curled up, "nothing is at all settled; my plans seem to be quite
vague now."
"What do you mean, Mr. Atherton?" Mrs. Renshaw asked in surprise, for
Mr. Atherton's plans were generally mapped out very decidedly. "How is
it that your plans are vague? I thought you said two days ago that you
should go down to Wellington about the 20th."
"I did not mean to say that they were vague, Mrs. Renshaw; did I really
say so?"
"Why, of course you did," Mrs. Renshaw said; "and it is not often that
you are vague about anything."
"That shows that you do not understand my character, Mrs. Renshaw," Mr.
Atherton said in his usual careless manner. "I am the vaguest of men--a
child of chance, a leaf blown before the wind."
Wilfrid laughed. "It would have taken a very strong wind when we first
knew you."
"I am speaking metaphorically, Wilfrid. I am at London, and the idea
occurs to me to start for the Amazon and botanize there for a few
months. I pack up and start the next morning. I get there and do not
like the place, and say to myself it is too hot here, let me study the
Arctic flora at Spitzbergen. If I act upon an idea promptly, well and
good, but if I allow any time to elapse between the idea striking me and
my carrying the thing into execution, there is never any saying whether
I may not go off in an entirely different groove during the interval."
"And is there any chance of your going off in any other groove now,
Atherton?" Mr. Renshaw asked.
"No, I think not; just a remote possibility perhaps, but not more than
that. It is so indefinitely small, indeed, that you may--yes, I think
you may safely calculate upon my starting on the day I said, or if I
find a ship at Wellington going on a trading excursion among the
islands, or up to the Straits, or to Japan, I may likely enough take a
passage in her."
"But I thought you said that your business required you to be at home,
Mr. Atherton?"
"Yes, I suppose that is so, Wilfrid; but I daresay my solicitor would
manage it just as well if I did not turn up. Solicitors are people who,
as far as I can see, consider it their duty to bother you, but if they
find that you pay no attention to their letters they manage somehow or
other to get on very well without you. I believe they go into a court
and make affidavits, and get an order authorizing them to sign for you.
I do not know how it generally is done, but that is my experience of
them so far."
Marion had said little that evening, and had indeed been very quiet for
the last few days. She was somewhat indignant at Wilfrid's interference
in what she considered her affairs, and felt that although her father
and mother had said nothing, they too were somewhat disappointed, and
would have been glad had she accepted Bob Allen. Besides she had reasons
of her own for being out of spirits. After breakfast the next morning
Mr. Atherton said: "Marion, when you have finished your domestic duties
and can be spared, suppose you put on your hat and come for a ramble
with me."
There was nothing unusual in the request, for the girl often accompanied
him in his rambles when he was not going far into the forest.
"I shall be ready in half an hour, if your highness can wait so long."
"I am in no hurry, child, and will smoke a pipe on the verandah until
you are ready."
Marion always enjoyed these walks with Mr. Atherton. He was at all times
a pleasant companion, and when alone with her always exerted himself to
amuse her, though he sometimes vexed her by talking to her as if she
were a child. To-day he was much more silent than usual, and more than
once she looked up in wonder at his face as he walked along puffing at
his pipe, with his hands deep in his jacket pockets and his eyes bent on
the ground.
"A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Atherton," she said at last with a
laugh. "It seems to me that you would have got on just as well without
me."
"Well, I was just thinking that I was a fool to ask you to come with me,
child." Marion opened her eyes in surprise. "You see, my dear," he went
on, "we all make fools of ourselves sometimes. I started in life by
making a fool of myself. I fell in love with a woman whom I thought
perfection. She was an arrant flirt, and was only amusing herself with
me till she hooked a young lord for whom she was angling. That was what
sent me roaming for the first time; and, as you know, having once
started I have kept it up ever since, that is till I came out here. I
had intended to stay six months; I have been here three years. Why have
I stopped so long? Simply, child, because I have again made a fool of
myself. I do not think I was conscious of it for the first two years,
and it was only when I saw, as I thought, that young Allen would win
you, that I recognized that I, a man of thirty-seven, was fool enough to
love a child just eighteen years younger than myself. At the same time I
was not fool enough to think that I had the smallest chance. I could not
stop here and watch another winning you, and at the same time I was so
weak that I could not go away altogether; and so you see I compromised
matters by going away for weeks and sometimes months at a time,
returning with the expectation each time of hearing that it was settled.
Now I hear that you have refused him, and, just as a drowning man grasps
at a straw, I resolved to have my fate absolutely settled before I sail.
Don't be afraid of saying 'no,' dear. I have never for a moment looked
for any other answer, but I think that I would rather have the 'no' than
go away without it, for in after years I might be fool enough to come to
think that possibly, just possibly, the answer, had I asked the
question, might have been 'yes.'"
He had stopped in his walk when he began to speak, and stood facing
Marion, who had not raised her eyes while he was speaking. Then she
looked frankly up in his face.
"Do you think I did not know," she said softly, "and didn't you really
know too? You are not so wise a man as I thought you. Why, ever since I
have known you it seems to me that--that--"
"That you have loved me, Marion; is it possible?" he said taking her
hand.
"Of course it is possible," she said almost pettishly "how could I help
it, I should like to know?"
Dinner had been waiting for some time before Mr. Atherton and his
companion returned from their ramble.
"Twenty minutes late!" Wilfrid shouted as they approached the house;
"have you been losing yourselves in the bush?"
"I think that it has been just the other way, Wilfrid," Mr. Atherton
said as he came up to the group gathered in the verandah.
"How do you mean?" Wilfrid asked.
"I mean we have been finding each other."
"Finding each other," Wilfrid repeated vaguely. "Why, were you both
lost?"
"I was, Wilfrid. Mrs. Renshaw, I have found your daughter, and am going,
with your permission and that of her father, to keep her. I am a good
bit older than she is, but as she says she does not mind that, I hope
that you will not, and at least I can promise to do all in my power to
make her happy."
"I am surprised, Mr. Atherton; surprised and glad too," Mrs. Renshaw
said, while Mr. Renshaw grasped Mr. Atherton's hand and shook it
heartily.
"My dear sir, there is no one in the world to whom I could intrust
Marion's happiness so gladly and heartily. I own that it is a surprise
to me, as well as to her mother, but we are both delighted at the choice
she has made."
By this time Marion and her mother had gone indoors together. Wilfrid
had not yet spoken, his surprise was still too great for words.
"Well, Wilfrid," Mr. Atherton said, turning to him, "I hope your
disapproval of Marion's conduct on this occasion is not so great as it
was when you were talking to me yesterday."
"I hardly know what to say yet, you have taken me so by surprise; but I
am awfully glad--you know that, don't you? There is no one in the world
I should like Marion to marry so much, only somehow it never occurred to
me."
"That is natural enough, Wilfrid. However, now that it has occurred to
you, and you approve of it, we must hope that Marion will be restored to
your good graces again."
"I have been making an ass of myself," Wilfrid said penitently; "but you
believe that I am awfully glad, don't you? I was disappointed about Bob,
but then, you see, I never thought about you. Why, you must know, Mr.
Atherton, what I think of you and how I care for you, and how I look up
to you. Somehow it never seemed possible to me that a man like you could
fall in love."
"And much more improbable still, Wilfrid, that your sister would fall in
love with me. I understand you, lad. We have been very close friends for
the last three years, haven't we? I have been something like a very big
and very old brother to you, and now we are going to be brothers in
earnest;" and their hands closed in a grip that spoke volumes for the
sincerity and depth of their feelings. Then Wilfrid ran into the house
and threw his arms round his sister.
"I have been an awful fool, Marion," he said; "but you see, I never
dreamt of this."
"And you are really pleased, Wilfrid?"
"Pleased! I am delighted. Why, you know, I think he is the finest fellow
in the world; and has he not done everything for us, and stood by me
and nursed me, and carried me for miles, and saved mother's life and
mine? But it never entered my mind that you had fallen in love with each
other."
"I do not know why it shouldn't, Wilfrid. Why shouldn't I think as much
of him as you do?"
"I do not know, I am sure, Marion; but I confess I never did think of
it. Did you, mother?"
"Once or twice, Wilfrid. About a year ago it did cross my mind once or
twice, but that was all. They say mothers are keen-sighted as far as
their daughters are concerned; but either I am less keen-sighted than
mothers in general, or Marion is deeper than other girls."
"Well, mother, we shall have lots of time to talk this over," Wilfrid
said. "Dinner has been waiting nearly an hour, and even this wonderful
business cannot have taken away all our appetites. Everything is ready;
shall I call them in?" Wilfrid had, however, still a few minutes to
wait, for the two men were engaged in earnest conversation outside.
When they came in at last Mr. Renshaw kissed his daughter fondly. "God
bless you, my child!" he said. "You have made a wise choice indeed, and
I am sure that you will be a very happy woman."
It was a quiet meal, for all were too happy to talk much. After it was
over the two men strolled out together and renewed their conversation,
and Mr. Renshaw presently called to his wife to join them. Marion had
gone to her room, and Wilfrid was about to start to the other end of the
farm when Mr. Atherton called him.
"Come and join our consultation, Wilfrid. You are as much concerned in
it as any of us, and I rely upon your assistance to bring round these
two very obstinate people to my side of the question. I should say our
side, for of course Marion is one with me in the matter. You see, I am a
rich man, Wilfrid--really a rich man, and I naturally wish that Marion
should be made as happy as possible. I do not think she would be as
happy as possible if she were in England with me, with a nice place in
the country, and a town-house, and most things that money could bring
her, if she knew that her father and mother were out here living a life
which, although they have admirably adapted themselves to it, is yet
very different to that to which they have been all their lives
accustomed.
"Now, owing to this absurd freak of my aunt in making me her heir when
my income was already five times as much as I could spend, I have the
nuisance of a large landed estate on my hands. There is a large house
upon it which I suppose Marion and I will have to occupy occasionally;
and there is another house, which is known as the dower house, and which
is a very snug and comfortable abode. Now, it is quite clear that I am
the last sort of man to look after an estate. It would worry me most out
of my mind, and would be a perpetual annoyance.
"What I propose is that your father and mother shall come home and take
possession of the dower house, and that your father should act as my
agent. Living on the spot, he would be able to keep an eye on the
tenants, receive rents, and that sort of thing, and still be able to
devote a considerable portion of his time to his favourite pursuits. I
should have the advantage of having an agent I could absolutely rely
upon, and Marion and I would have the comfort of having her father and
mother close at hand. It would be a little lonely for you for a bit,
Wilfrid; but you are nearly nineteen now, and will, unless I am
mistaken, ere many years have passed be bringing a mistress to The
Glade. I fancy you go over to Mitford's a good deal oftener than there
is any absolute occasion for, and although Kate is only sixteen yet, I
have a shrewd suspicion that you have both pretty well made up your
minds about the future."
Wilfrid coloured and laughed. "I don't know that we are as far advanced
as that; but I do hope that some day it may be as you say. But about
this other affair. What do my father and mother say? It seems to me it
would be a splendid arrangement."
"Of course it would, Wilfrid; a splendid arrangement, for Marion and me
especially. That is what I am trying to persuade them; but your mother
has developed quite a new line of obstinacy, and your father is just as
bad."
"Don't you see, Wilfrid," Mrs. Renshaw said with tears in her eyes, "it
is only an excuse on Mr. Atherton's--"
"Harry, my dear madam, Harry," Mr. Atherton interrupted. "We have
arranged it is to be Harry in future."
"On Harry's part," Mrs. Renshaw went on, "to provide an income for us."
"But I have got to provide an income for someone," Mr. Atherton said.
"There must be an agent to look after the property for me; necessarily
that agent must have a salary; and why in the name of good sense should
not your husband be that agent as well as anyone else?"
"But you are offering a great deal too high a salary," Mr. Renshaw
urged. "You could get an excellent agent for less than half the sum you
are talking about."
"Not at all," Mr. Atherton replied; "I must have a gentleman, both for
my own sake and that of the tenants, and to get a gentleman of high
character and perfectly trustworthy, I must necessarily pay him a good
salary. I shall be a good deal in town, and my representative must
therefore be able to occupy a good position in the county; besides, as I
have told you, my income now, with this absurd addition, amounts to
something like six thousand a year. Why, in the name of goodness, should
I not be allowed, if I choose, to pay two or three hundred a year over
market price to my agent when it will afford my wife the gratification
of having her parents near her, and me the pleasure of having two dear
friends as my next neighbours. Besides, The Glade will not be a bit too
large for you when you marry, Wilfrid, and in that case either you will
have to start in a fresh place and begin all your work over again, or
your father would have to turn out to make room for you. I consider it
preposterous. What do you say, Wilfrid?"
"I do think it would be a splendid arrangement, mother," Wilfrid
answered. "You know well enough that I shall be very sorry to lose you
and father; but it would be awfully nice for Marion, and I do think that
though, as Mr. Atherton says, you and father have fallen in splendidly
with your life here, the other would be in every way better suited to
you. I can understand your feelings in the matter; but the same time I
think that after Mr. Atherton having saved your life and mine, his
feelings and wishes should influence you very much."
"If you hesitate any longer," Mr. Atherton said, "I shall go in and
fetch Marion out. I have not told her about my plan yet, for in fact we
had other things to talk about; but when I tell her, and she adds her
voice to ours, I am sure you will not be able to refuse any longer."
Mrs. Renshaw exchanged a look with her husband. "It is not necessary,"
she said in a broken voice. "We accept, Harry."
"That is right," Mr. Atherton said as he wrung Mr. Renshaw's hand
warmly, and then affectionately kissed Mrs. Renshaw. "Now we are going
to be a very happy and united family. Now, go in and tell Marion."
"Tell her yourself," Mrs. Renshaw smiled, wiping her eyes; and Mr.
Atherton took his way to the house.
Marion was indeed delighted with the news. The thought of leaving her
mother and father behind had been the one drawback to her happiness. She
had been her mother's right hand and her father's companion. She had
thought how terribly they would miss her, and how, as years went on,
they would, far more than now, feel the difference between their present
life and that they had formerly led. The news that they would be always
near her and settled in a comfortable home filled her with delight. A
few minutes after Mr. Atherton entered the house she ran out to her
father and mother and threw her arms fondly around them. "Is it not
happiness, mother," she cried, "to think that we shall still be
together?"
"If you are not a happy woman, child, it will be your own fault," her
father said. "I consider you a marvellously lucky girl."
"As if I did not know that!" she replied, laughing through her tears.
Mr. Atherton did not sail quite so soon as he had intended. A church had
recently been erected at the central settlement, and a clergyman
established there, and a month after matters were settled between him
and Marion their wedding was celebrated, almost every settler on the
Mohaka being present. The newly-married couple returned to The Glade for
a week, Mr. and Mrs. Renshaw and Wilfrid remaining as the guests of Mr.
Mitford. At the end of that time they returned, and with Mr. and Mrs.
Renshaw sailed for Napier, where they took ship for England.
"What would you have done if I had sailed away for England without ever
mustering up courage to speak to you, Marion?" Mr. Atherton said as he
stood by the bulwark with her that evening taking their last look at New
Zealand.
"I should not have let you go, sir," his wife said saucily; "didn't I
know that you cared for me, and had I not refused all sorts of offers
for your sake? I don't know what I should have done, or what I should
have said, but I am quite sure I should not have let you go unless I
found that I had been making a mistake all along. It would have been
ridiculous indeed to have sacrificed the happiness of two lives merely
because you had some absurd ideas about your age."
"I never thought you cared for me, Marion, never."
"That is because you never took the trouble to find out," his wife
retorted. "Men are foolish creatures sometimes, even the wisest of
them."
Marion Atherton's life was one of almost perfect happiness. Mr. Atherton
entirely gave up his wanderings abroad, and by dint of devotion to
racquets and tennis in summer, and of hunting and shooting in winter, he
kept down his tendency towards corpulence. He was an energetic
magistrate, and one of the most popular men in the county. Mr. Renshaw
resumed his former studies in archæology, but they were now the
amusement instead of being the object of his life, and he made an
excellent agent to his son-in-law. Standing in the relation he did to
Mr. and Mrs. Atherton, he and Mrs. Renshaw shared in their popularity,
and occupied a good position in the county.
Three years after their return to England they received the news that
Kate Mitford had changed her name, and was installed as mistress at The
Glade. Every five years Wilfrid and his wife, and as time went on his
family, paid a visit to England. He became one of the leading men of the
colony. A few years after his marriage Mr. and Mrs. Mitford had returned
to England for good, and James Allen and Wilfrid succeeded to his
business as a trader, and carried it on with energy and success, Mr.
Atherton advancing Wilfrid sufficient capital to enable them to extend
their business largely. In time The Glade became Wilfrid's summer
residence only, the head-quarters of the firm being established at
Napier. It is now conducted by his sons, he himself having returned home
with his wife and daughters with a fortune amply sufficient to enable
them to live at ease. Marion was pleased when, two years after her
arrival in England, she heard from Wilfrid that Bob Allen had married
the daughter of an officer settled on the Mohaka. The Grimstones both
did well, and became prosperous farmers. Jack remained in Wilfrid's
service until he left the colony, and is now a trusted agent of his sons
in their dealings with the natives.
* * * * *
PRINTED AND BOUND IN GREAT BRITAIN
_By Blackie & Son, Limited, Glasgow_