The half-year's remittance came in due time, but Frank was quite unable
to pay the £100 loan. Ruin was now staring him in the face. Tradesmen
were clamorous, rent and wages were unpaid, and he was getting into a
state of despair, when, to his great and unspeakable joy, a letter
arrived one morning announcing that a legacy of £500, left him by an old
lady--his godmother--would be paid into his account at the Adelaide
Bank. Here was, indeed, a reprieve. In a transport of gratitude he
threw himself on his knees, and gave thanks to God for this unlooked-for
help. Then he lost not a moment, but rode at once into Adelaide, and
went first to the bank, where he ascertained that the money had been
paid in. Then he called on his creditors and discharged their bills.
And last of all he went to Hubert Oliphant and repaid the loan of the
£100, with the interest.
"Oh, Hubert," he said, "I can't tell you how thankful and grateful I
feel for this relief. I was getting into hopeless difficulties. I was
at my wits' end what to do. I felt like a miserable slave, just as if I
was walking in irons; and now I could do nothing but shout all the way
home, I feel so light and free!"
"I don't doubt it," said his friend. "But you were talking just now
about being thankful. Won't you let it be more than mere words? Won't
you show, dear Frank, that you really are grateful to God?"
"I have," replied the other. "I thanked God on my knees for his
goodness as soon as I got the letter."
"I'm truly rejoiced to hear it. And now, what do you mean to _do_?"
"To _do_? Why, what should I do?"
"Does not your own conscience tell you, Frank?"
"Ah, I suppose you mean, give up the drink altogether. Well, I intend
to do it--and at once too."
"And will you ask for strength where you know it can be found?"
"Yes," said Frank, grasping the other's hand warmly; "I promise you I
will."
"And what about the pledge?" pursued Hubert, with a loving, entreating
smile.
"Ah, that pledge! You can never let me rest about the pledge. I see
you're afraid to trust me."
"Dear Frank, is there not a cause? Can you trust yourself?"
"Yes I think I can this time--especially if I pray for help."
Hubert sighed.
"By the way," he said, "I was nearly forgetting that I have a little
note for you from Mary, which came to-day in a letter to myself. Here
it is."
The note was brief and constrained in its tone, though kind. It was as
follows:--
"DEAR FRANK,--I wrote to you by the last mail, and just send a few
lines now in Hubert's letter. I can scarce tell how to write. I do
not know whether to hope or fear, whether I dare venture to believe
that I shall ever see you again with joy. O Frank, I have dreadful
misgivings. Miserable rumours come across the sea to make all our
hearts sick. Will you not at once and for ever renounce what has been
the occasion of sin and disgrace to yourself and of misery to us both?
Will you not go to the Strong for strength, and cast yourself at once
on him? I cannot write more now, for I am almost broken-hearted. I
shall not cease to pray for you.--Yours, MARY OLIPHANT."
Frank hastily thrust the note into his pocket after reading it, and
hurried home. There he shut-to his door, and flung himself on his
knees. He prayed to be forgiven his sin, and that he might live a
steady and sober life for the time to come. He rose up comforted and
satisfied. He felt he had done a duty. He was resolved to become a
water-drinker, to pay no more visits to the man at the cottage, and to
keep no intoxicating drinks in his house. Mary's letter had touched him
to the quick; he saw how nearly he had lost her; he felt that the stand
must be made now or never. But yet he had in no way pledged himself to
total abstinence. True, he had prayed to be kept sober; but had his
heart fully and sincerely desired what his lips had prayed for? Alas,
it is to be feared not; for it is no difficult thing to delude ourselves
in the matter of prayer. It is easy, when we have sinned, and before
the next strong temptation to the same sin presents itself, to pray
against repeating it, and so to give a sop to our conscience, without
having either the heart's desire or the honest resolve to abstain from
that sin. And it is equally easy to pray that we may not fall into a
sin, and to have a sort of half sincere desire to that effect; and yet,
at the same time, to be quite unwilling to avoid those steps which,
though they are not themselves the sin, yet almost of necessity and
inevitably lead to it. So it was with poor Frank, but he did not think
so; on the contrary, he was now quite persuaded that his resolution was
like a rock, that he was thoroughly fortified against yielding to his
old temptations, and that he should never again deviate from the
strictest sobriety. Yet he would not sign the pledge, and so put a
check between himself and those circumstances and occasions which might
lead or surprise him into a transgression. He meant to be a total
abstainer at _present_, but he was quite as resolved not to sign the
pledge.
Things were in this state. He had rigidly kept himself to non-
intoxicants for more than a month after the receipt of Mary's note. He
had paid his way and observed a strict economy; he was getting back his
character as a steady and sober man; and many looked on with approbation
and applauded him. There were, however, three at least in the colony
who had but little faith in him as yet; these were Hubert, Mr Oliphant,
and Jacob Poole.
Things were in this state when one morning, as Frank was riding slowly
down Hindley Street, he noticed a man, whose face and whole appearance
seemed very familiar to him, talking to a shopman at his door. Just as
he came opposite, the man turned fully towards him--there could be no
longer any doubt.
"What! Juniper; Juniper Graves--you here!"
"What! Mr Frank, my dear young master! Do I really see you once more?
Ah, how I've longed for this suspicious day; but it's come at last."
"Ah, I see it's just yourself," said Frank, laughing. "Give us your
hand, my good fellow. But what has brought you out here? It looks like
old times in the dear old country seeing you again."
"Why, Mr Frank, the truth's the truth, and it's no use hiding it,
though `self-praise is no accommodation,' as the proverb says. You see,
sir, I couldn't be happy when you was gone. I missed my dear young
master so much. People wondered what was amiss with me, when they found
me, as they often did, in a state of refraction. `Why, Juniper,' they'd
say, `what's amiss? Are you grieving after Mr Frank?' I could only
nod dissent; my heart was too full. But I mustn't be too long, a-
keeping you too, sir, under the vertebral rays of an Australian sun. I
just couldn't stand it no longer--so I gets together my little savings,
pays my own passage, sails across the trackless deep to the southern
atmosphere--and here I am, to take my chance for good fortune or bad
fortune, if I may only now and then have a smile from my dear young
master Mr Frank, and gaze once more on those familiar ligaments which I
loved so much in dear old England. Mr Frank, it's the simple truth, I
assure you. With all my failings and interjections, you'd never any
cause to doubt my voracity."
"You're a warm-hearted, good fellow, I know," said Frank, wiping his
eyes, "or you never could have made such a sacrifice on my account. But
what do you mean to do with yourself? Have you got into any situation
or employment?"
"Oh no, sir. I felt sure--that is to say, I hoped that I should find
you out, for you'd be sure to be well-known in the colony, and that I
might have the irresponsible happiness of serving you again, either as
groom, or in some other capacity."
It so happened that Frank was parting with his man, so Juniper at once
stepped into the place. Had his master known how matters really were,
he would not have been so ready to take his old tempter into his house.
The fact was, that Juniper Graves had gone to such lengths of
misbehaviour after Frank's departure for Australia, that Sir Thomas had
been compelled to dismiss him; feeling, however, sorry for the man, as
the favourite servant of his absent son, the squire had not noised
abroad his misdemeanours; so that when Juniper quitted Greymoor Park, he
did so apparently of his own choice. He had contrived, while in the
baronet's service, to appropriate to himself many small valuables of a
portable character. These he managed safely to dispose of, and with the
money purchased an outfit and paid his passage to South Australia. His
shallow brains had been fired with the idea of making his fortune at the
diggings. He felt sure that, if he could find Frank Oldfield, he should
soon ingratiate himself with him, and that he might then take advantage
of his good-nature and of his intemperance to gather to himself
sufficient funds to enable him to start as gold-digger. A wretched
compound of vanity, selfishness, and shrewdness, where his own interests
were concerned, he had no other view as regarded his young master than
to use him as a ladder by which he might himself mount to fortune. A
week later, and Juniper Graves was established as general man-servant at
Frank Oldfield's cottage in the hills.
"And pray, Mrs Watson," he asked, on the evening of his arrival,
"whereabouts is one to find the cellar in these outlandish premises?"
"Why, much in the same place as you'd look for it in England," was the
answer; "only here you'll find nothing but cellar walls, for our
master's turned teetotaller."
Juniper replied to this by opening his eyes very wide, and giving
utterance to a prolonged whistle.
"Teetottaller!" at last he exclaimed; "and pray how long has he taken to
this new fashion?"
"Not many weeks," was the reply.
"And how many weeks do you think he'll stick to it?"
"A great many, I hope," replied the housekeeper; "for I'm sure there's
neither pleasure nor profit where the drink gets the master. It's
driven poor Jacob away."
"And who may poor Jacob be?"
"Why, as nice, and steady, and hearty a lad as ever I set eyes on, Mr
Graves. He was master's first groom and gardener. He came out in the
same ship with master and Mr Hubert Oliphant. Mr Frank saved Jacob
from being drowned, and the young man stayed with him here, and worked
for him with all his heart till the drink drove him away, for he was a
teetotaller, as he used to say of himself, to the back-bone."
"Well, Mrs Watson," said Graves, "it isn't for me to be contradicting
you, but, for my part, I never could abide these teetottallers. What
with their tea and their coffee, their lemonade and ginger beer, and
other wishy-washy, sour stuffs--why, the very thought of them's enough
to cause an involution of one's suggestive organs."
But what was he to do? Drink there was none in the house, and he was
too crafty to make any direct request for its introduction; but, "as
sure as my name's Juniper," he said to himself, "Mr Frank shall break
off this nonsense afore I'm a month older; it won't suit him, I know,
and I'm certain sure it won't suit me."
So he submitted to the unfermented beverages of the establishment with
as good a grace as he could, turning over in his mind how he should
accomplish his object. He had not to wait long. The drunken cottager
who had formerly supplied Frank with spirits, was of course not best
pleased to lose so good a customer, for he had taken care to make a very
handsome profit on the liquors which he had supplied. It so happened
that this man lighted on Juniper one day near his master's house, and a
very few minutes' conversation made the groom acquainted with the former
connection between this cottager and Frank Oldfield.
"Ho, ho!" laughed Juniper to himself. "I have it now. Good-bye to
teetottalism. We'll soon put an end to him."
So bidding his new acquaintance keep himself out of sight and hold his
tongue, for he'd soon manage to get back his master's custom to him,
Juniper purchased a few bottles of spirits on his own account, and
stowed them safely away in his sleeping-place. A few days after this
transaction, Frank bid his groom prepare himself for a ride of some
length. It was a blazing hot day, and when they had gone some fifteen
miles or more, principally in the open, across trackless plains, they
struck up suddenly into a wooded pass, and Frank, giving the bridle to
Juniper, threw himself on to the ground, under some trees, and lay
panting with the excessive heat.
"Stiff work this, Juniper," he said. "Just hang the bridles somewhere,
and come and get a little shade. It's like being roasted alive."
"Ay, sir," replied the other, "it's hot work, and thirsty work too; only
you see, sir, total abstainers ain't at liberty to quench their thirst
like ordinary mortals."
"Why not?" asked his master, laughing. "I hear the sound of water not
far-off; and I don't doubt there's enough to quench the thirst of all
the teetotallers in the colony."
"Phew!" replied Juniper, "it'd be madness to drink cold water in the
heat we're in. Why, I'm in such a state of respiration myself, sir,
that it'd be little better than courting self-destruction if I were to
drink such chilly quotations."
"Perhaps so," replied Frank; "certainly it isn't always safe, I believe,
to drink cold water when you're very hot; but we must be content with
what we can get, and wait till we're a little cooler."
"I beg your pardon, sir," said the other, in the blandest of voices;
"but I've had the sagacity to bring with me a little flask of something
as'll air the cold water famously. Here it is, sir; you can use the
cover as a cup." He was soon at the stream and back again. "Now, sir,
shall I just mix you a little? it's really very innocent--as immaculate
as a lamb. You must take it as a medicine, sir; you'll find it an
excellent stomach-ache, as the doctors say."
"I'm more afraid of it's giving me the heart-ache, Juniper," replied his
master; "but a very little in the water will certainly perhaps be wise.
There, thank you; hold--hold--you're helping me, I suppose, as you love
me." The cup, however, was drained, and then a second was taken before
they started again; and twice more before they reached home they halted,
and Juniper's flask was produced and emptied before they finally
remounted.
"I have him," chuckled Graves to himself. "I've hooked my trout; and he
only wants a little playing, and I'll have him fairly landed."
Alas! it was too true. Frank was in skilful hands; for Juniper had a
double object: he wanted to indulge his own appetite for the drink at
his master's expense; and he also wanted to get into his clutches such a
sum of money as would enable him to make a fair start at the diggings on
the Melbourne side of the Australian continent. His friend of the
cottage, through whom he obtained his supply of spirits, was well
acquainted with many of the returned diggers, and gave him full
information on all subjects about which he inquired connected with the
gold-digging. His object in the first place was to get as much of his
master's money into his own possession as he could do without direct
robbery; his next object was to keep his master out of every one else's
clutches but his own. So he laid himself out in every way to keep Frank
amused and occupied, and to leave him as little time as possible for
reflection. The spirit-bottle was never allowed to be empty or out of
the way; Juniper could produce it at a moment's notice. He took care to
do so with special dexterity whenever he could engage his master in a
game of cards. Juniper was an accomplished gambler; he had often played
with his young master when they were out alone on fishing or shooting
expeditions at Greymoor Park. Frank used then to lose money to him in
play occasionally, but Juniper was always wily enough not to push his
advantage too far--he never would allow himself to win more than small
sums. But now he had a different purpose on hand; and so, from time to
time, he would draw on his master to play for hours together, keeping
the drink going all the while, and managing himself to preserve a
sufficient sobriety to prevent his losing his self-possession and
defeating his end in view. Thus, by degrees, Frank found his money
melting fast and faster away. If he complained of this to Juniper, that
worthy either assured him he was mistaken, or that the money had only
gone to defray the necessary expenses of the establishment; or else he
laughed, and said, "Well, sir, you didn't play as well as usual last
night. I suppose your luck was bad, or your head wasn't very clear.
You lost more than usual, but you'll win it all back; and, after all, I
should never think of keeping it if you're really in want of it at any
time."
"Juniper, you're a good fellow," said his poor miserable dupe; "you mean
well--I know you do. I'm sure you wouldn't deceive or rob me."
"Me deceive! me rob, Mr Frank! No indeed, sir; I hope I've too much
duplicity to do anything of the kind. Why, didn't I come out here just
because I'd such a hampering after you, Mr Frank? No; I trust, indeed,
that you'll never ascertain such hard thoughts of me for a moment."
"Never fear," was his master's reply; "I believe you love me too well,
Juniper, to wrong me."
But there was one who did not think so. Hubert Oliphant had discovered,
with dismay, that Frank's new servant was none other than the reprobate
groom of Greymoor Park. He had called as soon as he heard of it, and
implored his friend to dismiss Graves from his service. But Frank would
not hear of such a thing. He dwelt on his old servant's affection,
self-sacrifice, and devotion to himself; he palliated his faults, and
magnified his virtues; so that poor Hubert had to retire baffled and
heart-sick. There remained but one other effort to be made, and that
was through Jacob Poole, who was informed by Hubert of Juniper's
character. Jacob did not decline the duty, though the service was both
a difficult and delicate one; for there was a decision and simple
earnestness about his character which made him go forward, without
shrinking, to undertake whatever he was persuaded he was rightly called
upon to do.
It was on a lovely summer's evening that Jacob made his way, with a
heavy heart, to his former master's cottage. How he had once loved that
place! and how he loved it still!--only there had fallen a blight on all
that was beautiful, and that was the blight of sin. As he approached
the house, he heard singing from more than one voice. He drew near the
verandah; and there, by a little round table--on which was a bottle and
tumblers, and a box of cigars--sat, or rather lolled, Frank and his man,
smoking, drinking, and playing cards.
"And so it's you, Jacob, my boy!" cried Frank; "it's quite an age since
I've seen you; the boggarts haven't kept you away, I hope?"
"No, mayster, it's not the boggarts; it's my own heart as has kept me
away."
"What, Jacob! you've fallen in love with some fair maiden--is that it?"
"No, Mr Frank; I haven't fallen in love with any young wench, and
there's some of the other sex as I'm still less like to fall in love
with."
"Oh, you mean my friend Juniper here! Well, I'm sorry any one should
fall foul of poor Juniper; he's an old servant of mine, Jacob, and he's
come all the way over from England on purpose to serve me again."
"I'm thinking," said Jacob, who had too much Lancashire downrightness
and straightforwardness to use any diplomacy, or go beating about the
bush, "as it's very poor service ye'll get from him, Mr Frank, if I may
be allowed to speak out my mind. He's drawn you into the mire again
already, that's plain enough. Oh, dear mayster, I cannot hold my
tongue--I must and I _will_ speak plain to you. If you let this man
serve you as he's doing now, he'll just make a tool on you for his own
purposes, till he's squeezed every drop of goodness out of you, and left
you like a dry stick as is fit for nothing but the burning."
It is impossible to describe adequately the changes which passed over
the countenance of Juniper Graves while this brief conversation was
being carried on. Rage, malice, fear, hatred--all were mingled in his
mean and cunning features. But he controlled himself; and at last spoke
with an assumed smoothness, which, however, could not quite hide the
passion that made his voice tremulous.
"Really, sir, I don't know who this young man is--some escaped convict,
I should think; or American savage, I should imagine, by his talk. I
really hope, sir, you're not going to listen to this wild sort of
garbage. If it wasn't demeaning myself, and making too much of the
impertinent young scoundrel, I'd bring an action against him for
reformation of character."
"There, there, Juniper," said Frank, motioning him to be quiet; "don't
distress yourself. Jacob's prejudiced; he don't really know you, or
he'd speak differently. You must be friends; for I know you both love
me, and would do anything to serve me. Come, Jacob, give Juniper your
hand; take my word for it, he's an honest fellow."
But Jacob drew back.
"I know nothing about his honesty," he said; "but I _do_ know one thing,
for Mr Hubert's told me--he's led you into sin at home, Mayster Frank,
and he'll lead you into sin again here; and he's just cutting you off
from your best friends and your brightest hopes; and I've just come over
once more to beg and beseech you, by all as you holds dear, to have
nothing no more to do with yon drunken profligate. I'd rayther have
said this to yourself alone, but you've forced me to say it now, and
it's better said so nor left unsaid altogether. And now I'll bid you
good evening, for it's plain I can do little good if I tarry longer."
He turned and left them: as he did so, Frank's last look was one of
mingled anger, shame, remorse, despair; Juniper's was one of bitter,
deadly, fiery hatred.
But other thoughts soon occupied the mind of the tempter. It was plain
to him that, if he was to keep a firm hold on his young master, he must
get him, as speedily as possible, out of the reach of his old friends.
How was he to accomplish this? At last a scheme suggested itself.
"What say you, Mr Frank," he asked suddenly one morning, when his
master was evidently rather gloomily disposed--"what say you to a tramp
to the diggings? wouldn't it be famous? We could take it easy; there's
first-rate fishing in the Murray, I hear. We could take our horses, our
fishing-tackle, our guns, our pannikins, and our tether-ropes; we must
have plenty of powder and shot, and then we shall be nice and
independent. If you'd draw out, sir, what you please from the bank,
I'll bring what I've got with me. I've no doubt I shall make a first-
rate digger, and we'll come back again with our fortunes made."
"It's rather a random sort of scheme," said his master; "but I'm sick of
this place and of my present life. Anything for a bit of a change--so
let's try the diggings."
A few days after Jacob's visit to the cottage, it was rumoured that
Frank Oldfield and his man had left the colony. Hubert called at the
place and found that they were indeed gone, and that it was quite
uncertain when they purposed to return.