The owner of the station, Mr H--, followed the kindred occupations of
grazier and wool-grower; and, to judge by the appearance of his home, he
had carried on this combined business to some advantage. He was a
simple, kind-hearted man, about fifty years of age; and, having been a
colonist for more than twenty years, he understood how to make our visit
to his home as pleasant, as circumstances would admit.
The day after our arrival, we were inducted into the mysteries of a
"kangaroo hunt." In chase of an "old-man kangaroo" we had a fine run,
of about three miles, through the bush; and the affair was pronounced by
Vane, who claimed the character of a sportsman, to be a more exciting
chase than any fox-hunt he had ever witnessed in the old country. To be
"in at the death" of a fox is to be present at a scene of considerable
excitement; but it is tame, when compared with the termination of a
kangaroo chase. When an "old-man kangaroo" is brought to bay--after
having come to the conclusion that he has jumped far enough--then comes
the true tug of war.
The venerable gentleman places his back against a tree; and resists
further molestation in a most determined manner. He shows fight in his
own way--by lifting up one of his hind legs, and bringing it down again
with a sudden "slap"--all the time supporting himself in an upright
attitude on the other. The blow does not cause a sudden jar, like the
kick of a horse; but by means of his long, sharp claws, the kangaroo
will tear the skin from the body of a dog, or any other assailant, that
may imprudently come within reach.
Vane and Cannon knew that I had been a sailor. They expected,
therefore, some amusement in seeing me "navigate" a horse across the
rough country--among the standing and prostrated trees of an Australian
"bush."
They did not know, that I had been more than two years in the saddle--as
a United States dragoon; and that I had ridden over heaps of dead and
wounded men--over crippled horses and broken carriages--as well as
thousands of miles across the desert plains and through the dense
forests of America.
They were taken somewhat by surprise, on beholding my horsemanship; and
Vane flattered me with the hope, that a few years' practice would make
me as good a hunter as himself!
We returned home with a game-bag--containing two dead kangaroos; and
next day, at dinner, indulged in the luxury of "kangaroo-tail" soup.
Our amusement, for the following day, was a fishing excursion along the
Yarra-Yarra.
We caught an abundance of fish; but they were so small, that angling for
them appeared to be an amusement more fit for children than men; and we
soon became weary of the rod and line.
Each day, on returning home to the station, we enjoyed the society of
the beautiful Jessie.
As already stated, this young lady was an accomplished conversationist--
though her teaching had been only that of Nature. She could carry on a
conversation with all three of us at once; and on a different subject
with each.
I believe that Vane fell in love with her at first sight; and his whole
behaviour betokened, that he intended paying no attention to the command
or request which had been made by the man who introduced him.
I knew very little about love affairs; but something whispered me that,
if Vane should form a serious attachment for Jessie H--it would end in
his disappointment and chagrin. Something told me, she would not
reciprocate his affection--however fond it might be.
At the same time, I could perceive in the young lady a partiality for
myself. I did not attempt to discover the reason for this. It might
have been because my introduction to her had been made, under
circumstances such as often win a woman's love. She might have admired
my personal appearance. Why not? I was young; and had been often told
that I possessed good looks. Why should Jessie H--not fall in love with
me, as well as another?
As I reflected thus, conscience whispered to me, that I should take
leave of Mr H--'s family; and return to Melbourne.
I did not do so; and I give the reason. Jessie H--was so enchantingly
lovely, and her conversation so interesting, that I could not make up my
mind to separate from her.
Several times I had mentally resolved to bid adieu to my new
acquaintances; but my resolutions remained unfulfilled. I stayed at the
station, under the fascinations of the charmer.
Our diversions were of different kinds. One day we would visit a tribe
of native blacks living up the river, where we would be treated to
astonishing spectacles of their manners, and customs, especially their
exploits with the boomerang and spear.
Our mornings would be spent in kangaroo hunting; and our evenings in the
society of the beautiful Jessie.
One day we made an excursion--all going well mounted--to a grazing
station about fifteen miles from that of Mr H--. Our object was to
assist the proprietor in running a large drove of his young cattle into
a pen--for the purpose of having them branded.
The animals were almost wild; and we had an exciting day's sport, in
getting them inside the inclosure. Several feats of horsemanship were
exhibited by the different graziers, who assisted at the ceremony. The
affair reminded me of what I had seen in California, upon the large
grazing estates--"ganaderias" of that country. We were home again
before dinner time; and in the evening I was again thrown into the
company of Jessie.
I could not help reading her thoughts. They were easily interpreted:
for she made no attempt to conceal what others might have desired to
keep secret. Before I had been a week in her company, I was flattered
with full evidence, that the warmest love of a warm-hearted girl was, or
might be, mine.
There are few that do not sometimes stray from the path of rectitude--
even knowingly and willingly. By staying longer at the station of Mr
H--when convinced that the happiness of another depended on my leaving
it--I was, perhaps, acting as most others would have done; but I knew I
was doing wrong. It brought its own punishment, as wickedness ever
will.
Jessie loved me. I was now sure of it. Several circumstances had
combined to bring this misfortune upon her. Grateful for the service I
had done in saving their child, her father and mother acted, as if they
could not treat me with sufficient consideration. Little Rosa herself
thought me the most remarkable man in the world; and was always talking
of me to her sister.
It was natural for a girl like Jessie to love some one; and she had met
but few, from whom she could make a choice. There was nothing strange
in her young affections becoming centred on me; and they had done so.
Conscience told me that I should at once take myself from her presence;
but the fascination of that presence proved stronger than my sense of
duty; and I remained--each day, becoming more enthralled by the spell of
her beauty.
Why was it wrong in me to stay by the side of Jessie H--? Lenore Hyland
had forsaken me; and why should I not love another? Where could I hope
to find a woman more beautiful, more truthful, more worthy of being
loved, or more capable of loving than Jessie. The task of learning to
love her seemed every day to grow less difficult; and why should I bring
the process to an abrupt termination?
These considerations required my most profound reflection. They
obtained it--at least I thought so;--but the reflections of a man, under
the fascinating influence of female beauty, are seldom guided by wisdom.
Certainly mine were not, else I would not have allowed the hopes and
happiness of my life to have been wrested from me by the loss of Lenore.
Volume Two, Chapter XXVII.
"LOVE BUT ONE!"
"What should I do?" This was the question that presented itself to my
mind, almost every hour of the day. It called energetically for an
answer.
I loved Lenore Hyland--I felt that I ever should, as long as life was
left me. Such being the case, was it right for me to endeavour to gain
the affections of an unsophisticated girl like Jessie H--? Would it be
honourable of me to take advantage of that incident--which had no doubt
favoured her first inclination towards me? To win her heart, and then
forsake her, would be to inflict upon her the same sorrow I was myself
suffering for the loss of Lenore.
Lenore was still more dear to me than life; and I had only lived since
losing her, because I believed it a crime to die, until some Supreme
Power should call me to come. And yet should I ever return to
Liverpool, and find Lenore a widow--even though she should wish it--I
could never marry her!
"She can never be mine," thought I. "She never loved me; or she would
have waited for my return. Why, then, should I not love Jessie, and
make her my wife?"
There are many who would have adopted this alternative; and without
thinking there was any wrong in it.
I did, however. I knew that I could never love Jessie, as I had loved
Lenore--to whose memory I could not help proving true, notwithstanding
that she had abandoned me for another. This feeling on my part may have
been folly--to a degree scarce surpassed by my mother's infatuation for
Mr Leary; but to know that a certain course of action is foolish, does
not always prevent one from pursuing it.
"Shall I marry Jessie, and become contented--perhaps happy? Or shall I
remain single--true to the memory of the lost Lenore--and continue the
aimless, wandering, wretched existence I have lately experienced?"
Long and violent was the struggle within my soul, before I could
determine upon the answers to these self-asked questions. I knew that I
could love Jessie; but never as I should. "Would it be right, then, for
me to marry her?" I answered the last question by putting another.
"Should I myself wish to have a wife, who loved another man, and yet
pretended for me an affection she did not feel?"
I need scarcely say, that this interrogatory received an instantaneous
response in the negative. It determined me to separate from Jessie H--,
and at once. To remain any longer in her society--to stay even another
day under the roof of her father's house, would be a crime for which I
could never forgive myself. To-morrow I should start for Melbourne.
I had been walking on the bank of the river, when these reflections, and
the final resolve, passed through my mind. I was turning to go back to
the house, when I saw Jessie straying near. She approached me, as if by
accident.
"Miss H--," said I, "I am going to take leave of you."
"Going to leave me!" she exclaimed, her voice quivering as she spoke.
"Yes; I must start for Melbourne to-morrow morning."
She remained silent for some seconds; and I could see that the colour
had forsaken her checks.
"I am very sorry," she said at length, "very sorry to hear it."
"Sorry!" I repeated, hardly knowing what I said, "why should that
grieve you?"
I should not have asked such a question; and, as soon as I had done so,
I perceived the mistake I had made.
She offered no reply to it; but sate down upon the bank; and rested her
head upon her hands. An expression had come over her countenance,
unmistakeably of a painful character; and I could see that her eyes were
fast filling with tears.
"Surely this girl loves me? And surely I could love her?"
I know not how these two mental interrogatories were answered. I only
know that, instead of rejoicing in the knowledge that I had gained her
love, I was made miserable by the thought.