he must be; but, recovering myself, I asked him if he wished to speak
with me. `Yes; he should be glad to do so,' he replied in a sad voice,
but with the greatest courtesy of manner.
"He was soon seated opposite to me, and came at once to the point by
saying, `How can I ever discharge my debt of gratitude to you, Colonel
Dawson, for your most generous treatment of my poor boy, who might have
been lost or ruined but for your kindness?'
"`Pray, don't say anything more on the subject, Mr Jackson,' I replied.
`It has been a happiness to me to have been led to befriend your child;
and, indeed, he has become so dear to me, that I know not how to part
with him. But, of course, as he is yours, not mine, you are at liberty
to take him when you will, or to leave him with me till you can provide
a settled home for him.'
"My visitor was greatly moved, and grasped my hand most warmly. `I
know,' he said, `the best recompense I can make to one who has acted
towards me as you have done, is to lay myself under still deeper
obligation to you; and I will do so. I may tell you thus much about
myself--I am not what I seem. I have a great object which I am seeking
to accomplish, and I am, I think, on the road to success. I shall be
most thankful to leave my boy in your hands, at any rate, for the
present, and shall be most happy to charge myself with all his expenses
at home and at school.'
"`Nay, Mr Jackson,' I replied; `while he remains with me it shall be my
privilege to supply him with all that he needs, as I can well afford to
do, and I shall be further truly happy to be of personal service to
yourself if I can.'
"`I accept your offer with gratitude,' he replied. `You _can_ help me,
I dare say. I want employment as a clerk or book-keeper. Dare you
trust me yourself, or dare you recommend me to another? I dare myself
affirm that I will not disappoint an employer who may trust me.'
"There was a frankness and sincerity in his manner which completely
disarmed me of all suspicion or hesitation; whatever colonial _prudence_
might suggest, I _could_ not distrust him. So I offered him at once a
place in my own office with a moderate stipend. He accepted it without
hesitation, and lived in my house as a member of the family; and never
did employer have a more intelligent and faithful worker. As for the
child, his father never in the least interfered with my management of
him, though I brought him up after my own utterly unfashionable, or
perhaps more properly speaking, old-fashioned ideas. On the contrary,
he warmly approved of my system.
"`I cannot tell you,' he said one day, soon after he had come to live
with me, `how truly grateful I am to see you forming my dear boy's
character in the way you are doing. I want him to be the very opposite
to what I was myself at his age, and to what the generality of children
are now. I was brought up just to please myself and to have my own
way--to be, in fact, a little incarnation of self-will and selfishness.
I was allowed to ask for everything I liked at the table, no restriction
being put upon my self-indulgence. I went where I liked, and did what I
liked, and was never checked except when I was in the way, or had become
intolerably troublesome. I was placed under no regular discipline, and
was allowed to thrust myself and my opinions forward amongst my seniors
and those who were my superiors in everything but worldly position; and
as I grew older, and became inconveniently self-asserting, I was
alternately snubbed and humoured according to the whim or temper of
those who claimed authority over me. And what was the result? Alas!
Early reckless extravagance followed by ruin, and a character which
might have been moulded into something noble, now for a long time
shapeless and distorted. And my boy--well, I am only too thankful that
he has fallen into your hands out of his unworthy father's.' He spoke
these words with deep emotion.
"`I am truly glad, Mr Jackson,' I said, `that you are able to look at
things in this better and clearer light. I quite agree with you about
the present bringing up of children. For a few years they are treated
as little idols by parents, who are too selfish to give themselves the
pain and trouble of correcting and disciplining them, and this, too,
even in cases where the parents themselves are true Christians; and
then, when they begin to get unbearable, and have passed out of the
winning ways of early childhood, they are too often thrown back upon
themselves, and made to suffer the penalty of neglect of discipline and
training, which ought properly to be inflicted on the parents, who have
not done their duty towards them.'
"`It is so. I have seen it; I have felt it, Colonel Dawson,' he replied
warmly; `and so I just leave Horace's education entirely in your hands.'
"And thus it was that I brought up my dear nephew, as I still continued
to call him, in my own way--that is to say, to eat what was given him,
to do what was told him, to go where I allowed him, and to have as much
liberty as I thought good for him; to listen when his elders were
speaking, to be diligent in his lessons, early in his hours of rising
and going to bed, and regular in all his habits. And he will tell you
himself, I don't doubt, as he has told me over and over again, that, so
far from feeling this discipline and these wholesome restraints a
bondage, he was as happy as the day was long under them. And I am sure
of this, dear friends, that the little, stuck-up, pampered, self-willed,
selfish children which abound in our day, who are supposed to rejoice in
having their own way, are really slaves to themselves, as well as a
burden to their friends, and are strangers to that vigorous enjoyment
which is the privilege of a childhood passed under judicious and even
discipline.
"Well, so it was with Horace; and so his father rejoiced to find it.
And what made me rejoice still more was the happy conviction that a
deeper work still was beginning to manifest itself in the heart and life
of the dear boy. Yes, you may think it strange, dear friends that I am
entering into all these particulars on an occasion so public as the
present, and with your young squire by my side; but I have a reason for
it, as you will see by-and-by, and I am doing it with the full consent
and approval of my dear nephew himself. Let me, then, proceed with my
story.
"When Horace was sixteen years of age he expressed to me his earnest
desire to engage in some special work for the spread of the gospel,
which he had learned himself to prize above all earthly things. His
father at this time was not residing with me in the town, but held the
post of manager of my country estate and sheep-farm, which flourished
admirably under his most vigorous and faithful superintendence; for he
was a born ruler of others, and a man of such decision of character that
everything he laid his hands to fell, as it were, into order under his
unflagging and indomitable energy. I knew that I had `the right man in
the right place,' and was satisfied. However, when his son expressed
this his heart's desire to me, we rode up together to my country house
and laid the matter before Mr Jackson.
"He seemed at first confused and embarrassed when I mentioned the
subject to him, and asked me to wait for his views upon it till the
following day. So we spent the night at the farm; and the next day the
father and myself walked towards the neighbouring hills, and then he
told me, what you may be sure I was deeply thankful to hear, that what
he was pleased to call the consistent Christianity which he had
witnessed in our household had been blessed to himself, and that he
trusted that he was now endeavouring to live as a true follower of his
Saviour.
"`You will approve, then,' I said, `of Horace's wish to be trained for
direct gospel work.'
"`Yes and no,' he replied. `By _no_,' he added, `I mean that I do not
wish him to enter the ministry. I have reasons of my own for this which
just now I would rather keep to myself; but one day, and it may be
before very long, I should like you to know them.'
"`And what would you wish, then, Horace to do?' I asked.
"`I will talk the matter over with him,' he said. And he did so that
day; and the result was that the young man proposed, with his father's
full approbation, to pass through a course of training in medicine and
surgery with a view to his becoming qualified for the post of medical
missionary. So, on our return to Melbourne, the necessary steps were
taken; and two years ago my nephew left us for a short experimental trip
to one of the islands of the Pacific Ocean, under the guidance of an
excellent and experienced missionary.
"And now I am coming to a very sad and wonderful part of my story; but
as I have talked long enough now to weary myself if not to weary you, I
will ask you to amuse yourselves for a while among the grounds and in
the park till tea-time, and after tea I shall be happy to conclude my
story, the most important part of which is yet to come."
CHAPTER TWELVE.
CLOUD AND SUNSHINE.
There was clearly much anxiety on the part of the guests to hear the
conclusion of Colonel Dawson's narrative. So the bountiful tea which
had been provided was speedily despatched, and every eye fixed intently
on the speaker when he resumed his address, after the tables had been
withdrawn and the hearers settled in their old places.
"You will remember," began the colonel, "that I had sorrowful things to
tell you in continuing my story: and sorrowful indeed they are, though
not without a mixture of brightness. Horace had been gone from the
colony, on what I might call his missionary trial-trip, about a month,
when I was one day sitting alone under the veranda of my country house,
thinking over many things, and specially pondering the wonderful way in
which I had gained two so dear to me as Horace and his father. Then my
thoughts and heart went across the sea to my dear nephew,--when I was
suddenly aroused from my day-dream by seeing just before me a stranger,
who must have come up very silently, for I was quite unaware of his
approach till I looked up and saw him gazing very keenly and not very
pleasantly at me. It was now evening, and twilight, of which there is
very little in those parts, would speedily be followed by darkness. The
new-comer was dressed in bush fashion, and carried a rifle, and I could
see the stocks of a brace of pistols peeping out from his blouse. The
man's features and appearance altogether were most forbidding; and
though a military man myself, I felt anything but comfortable with these
ferocious eyes staring full upon me. However, in the bush open house is
more or less a rule, and rough-looking fellows often turn up and request
a night's lodging and food, which we do not think of refusing them.
Besides which, the wild-looking outside not unfrequently covers an
honest heart beneath. So, while I did not at all like the looks of my
visitor, I asked him what he wanted, and if he would sit down and take
some refreshment. He replied, in a voice as rough as his appearance,
that he was looking after some horses which had strayed as he was
bringing them overland, and that he should be glad of a mouthful of
bread and cheese and a drink. The refreshment was brought him by one of
my men, whom he eyed all over; while all the time he was eating, those
same fierce and restless eyes were taking in everything about the place,
till he rose to go, with a muttered word or two which hardly sounded
like thanks.
"No sooner was he out of sight than Horace's father joined me in the
veranda. His voice was agitated as he asked,--
"`Do you know that man?'
"`Not that I am aware of,' I replied; `indeed I may say, certainly not;
for once seen, such a man is not easily forgotten. A more villainous
face I never beheld.'
"`You may well say so,' said my friend. `I know that man too well; he
nearly succeeded in taking my life at the diggings,--he is somewhat
older-looking, of course, but there is no mistaking him. He was an
escaped convict when I knew him, and belonged to the most dangerous set
in the place where I was working. I don't at all like his lurking about
here. You may depend upon it, his presence bodes no good.'
"`I can well believe that,' I said; `so we must take proper precautions,
and see that the men are on the look-out.'
"`Yes,' he replied, `I will see to that; and it will be as well to send
a messenger to-night over to Melbourne to give the police a hint, as I
fancy they would not be sorry to come across this fellow, as his doings
are no doubt pretty well known to them.'
"Nothing more occurred that night to disturb us; but the following day
four horsemen might be seen riding up towards the house at a dashing
gallop, just about noon. I was prepared, however, for their coming and
had caused all the men about the place to take refuge in my own house,
which I had made provision for barricading if necessary. I had only
three or four men on the place at that time, and their wives and
children. These last I brought into an inner room when I saw the
horsemen in the distance. Though a soldier by profession, I was
exceedingly reluctant to shed blood, and had resolved on the present
occasion not to do so if it could possibly be avoided.
"The strangers were soon at the veranda, evidently resolved to take us
by storm. Foremost among them was my visitor of the day before. He
sprang down from his horse in the most reckless manner, and began
thundering at the door with the butt end of his rifle. My house had not
been built with the view of its sustaining a siege at any time, but was
constructed of rather light materials, so that the door began to groan
and creak under the assaults of the bushranger, whose every movement I
could see through a small opening in the shutters.
"`What do you want here, friend?' I asked.
"`Open the door,' was the only reply.
"`Tell me what you want,' I said again.
"`Open the door,' was all that was returned in answer; and then came a
thundering blow, which fairly crushed in one of the panels.
"`Shall I fire?' asked Mr Jackson, in a hoarse whisper.
"`No, no! Not yet, not yet,' I cried.
"Then came a united rush of three of the men, and the door came crashing
into the outer room. The foremost villain then sprang at me, and we
wrestled together, after I had knocked up his revolver. In a few
minutes I had hurled him back from me, and he fell to the ground and was
seized by one of my men. Gasping for breath, I paused and looked about
me. A pistol was presented at me by another bushranger, but before it
could be fired Horace's poor father had thrown himself in front of me;
he received the bullet in his own breast, and fell to the ground
grievously wounded. But now help was at hand; alas that it did not come
sooner! A strong body of mounted police came up, and having secured all
the robbers, carried them off in triumph.
"But what was to be done with my dear wounded friend, who had saved my
life by perilling his own? I knew enough of surgical matters to
ascertain by inspection that the injury, though severe, was not likely
to be mortal. So, having bandaged up the wound with the best appliances
I had at hand, I drove my friend as rapidly as he could bear it to my
town house, where he was at once placed under the care of the best
medical skill in the city. And for some time I had every hope that he
would recover, and earnestly did I pray that it might be so, if it were
the Lord's will. But it was not so to be. A constitution once strong,
but impaired in early youth, and much tried when he was at the diggings,
had not sufficient vigour remaining to enable my poor friend to regain
health and strength. But he did not pass away rapidly, nor did he lose
any of his power of mind in his last days. And then it was, on his
dying-bed, that he opened his whole heart to me, and told me what I am
about to tell you, and, as nearly as I can remember, in these words:--
"`My name is really Horace Walters, and I am the owner of an estate
called Riverton Park in my dear native country. But I ruined myself by
my mad love for gambling, and when my poor wife died, and left me with
Horace a baby, and my estate was become sadly encumbered, I resolved at
once that I would leave my native land, go over to Australia, live a
life of hard work and self-denial, and not come back again until, by the
accumulated rents and by what I could earn, I could make my property
absolutely and honestly my own, and leave it unencumbered to my dear
child. You have seen enough of me to know that I have some strength of
will in my character; and so, when I had made this resolution, I began
immediately to carry it out. Taking with me our old nurse, whom I bound
to secrecy, I came over to this colony, got employment, and then went to
the diggings. There, by diligence, perseverance, and self-denial, I
managed to accumulate a large sum, which is safely deposited in the
bank. I had some thoughts of going back at once to England; but on
learning what had happened to Horace, and about your noble and loving-
care of him, I resolved to wait a while, and to get employment in your
neighbourhood--at any rate, for a time. And that resolution I have
never repented of; indeed, I have felt _my_ dear Horace's--ay, I will
say _our_ dear Horace's--position in your house such a privileged one,
that I have gladly delayed taking any further steps homeward, wishing to
see him all that we both could desire him to be before I let him know
his real name and position. You can easily understand why I changed my
name to Jackson. I felt that I had brought shame and dishonour on my
own name in my native land and I resolved that in this distant country I
would change it for another, and not take it back again till I could do
so with honour and credit to myself and my child.'
"And then, dear friends, he told me how he blessed God for bringing
himself to the knowledge of his truth, and me for having been the
instrument--an unworthy one indeed I was--of leading him to that
knowledge. Of course, I told him what a privilege I felt it to have
been permitted to guide him to his Saviour; and I added that I would
gladly do anything I could to show my gratitude to him for having
sacrificed himself to save my life.
"`You have done more than enough already,' was his reply; `and yet I
will take you at your word. Horace knows nothing yet of his real name
and prospects; I had made up my mind lately that I would wait till he
came of age to tell him. And now I would ask you, dear friend, to take
Horace with you to England and see him settled in his property when I am
gone, which will be, I know, before very long. I have ample means in
the bank here to meet all expenses, and will give you full power to act
for me. You will understand now why I did not wish Horace to be a
minister. I think godly laymen are as much needed as godly clergymen;
and, as he in God's providence inherits an important property, I have a
strong impression that he will be more free to do his duty to his
tenantry and his estate as a Christian country squire, than he would be
if he had taken upon himself the charge of a special sphere or parish at
home or abroad. And my earnest wish and prayer is that he may soon, by
his conduct as a Christian landlord, blot out altogether the memory of
his unworthy father.'
"I stopped him here and told him that he was nobly redeeming the past,
so far as it was possible for man to do so, and that I would gladly
carry out what he desired. This seemed to make him quite happy; and his
one great wish now was to see his son once more, and this was granted to
him. Horace returned to comfort him in his dying hours, and to receive
his blessing, with his expressed wish that he should accompany me to
England, whither I was going on his account to settle some matters of
business for him. He said nothing further to his son, having already
expressed his wish to me that I should first set the Riverton estate in
thorough order, according to my own views of what was right--with one
special injunction, that I should do everything that might be in my
power to recompense John Price and his family for the loss they had
suffered on his account.
"So, after my poor friend's departure to his better inheritance, we have
come over here to carry out his wishes and instructions; and you have
seen, and can now see, the results. My dear nephew has been kept in
ignorance of his real name and prospects till yesterday, when I laid the
whole matter before him; and it is by his father's earnest dying request
that I have given you this full and minute history. To-day Horace
Walters is of full age, and to-day I surrender up all to him.
"I would just add a word or two more. I have gone so fully into my
story, not only because Mr Walters urged me to do so, but still more
for two special reasons: first, because I know that rumour and fancy
would be sure to put their heads together and circulate all sorts of
foolish stories about your late squire, and about his dear son, your
present squire, and some of these stories probably to the discredit of
one or both. Now I have given you the true account of all, so that you
can safely put down all slanderers' gossip and tittle-tattle on the
subject. And further, I have gone thus particularly into my story,
because it will show you what rare jewels there were in your late
squire's character, and how brightly those shone out when the black
crust of evil habits had fallen away from them. And, lastly, I have
wished to show you how graciously God has been ordering things for the
good of you all, and has brought blessings and peace out of a strange
tangle of circumstances which he has unravelled for your happiness.
"And now, dear friends, having accomplished the work for which I came
back to the old country, I am returning to the land of my adoption for a
time. I think it will be only for a time; for my dear nephew here has
got such a hold upon my heart, that I think I shall have to come back
and settle near him, if I am spared. However, I have the satisfaction
of knowing that I am leaving behind me two earnest, like-minded servants
of the great Master to preside over the good work at Riverton and
Bridgepath. I shall not leave the country till I have seen them made
one; and then I shall feel assured that in Horace Walters and her who
will, I trust, soon become his wife, I shall leave you those who, having
long been working for God separately in the shade, will work together as
devotedly, hand in hand, and heart in heart, in the light."
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's Working in the Shade, by Theodore P Wilson