"In joyous youth, what soul hath never known,
Thought, feeling, taste, harmonious to its own?
Who hath not paused while Beauty's pensive eye
Asked from his heart the homage of a sigh?"
CAMPBELL.
Another day had passed, and a third had shed its light on Strawberry
Hill, and still John Ferguson lingered there. It is true the inmates of
the house pressed him to stay; but it required little pressing to induce
him to continue a visit which was so grateful and congenial to his
wishes. He had spent long hours in the society of the ladies, and had
rambled with them through the shades of the bush. He was irresistibly
spell-bound to the spot, though he professed to himself utter ignorance
of any retentive influence. Despite his repeated personal assurances
that he had no amative object or gratification in his partiality for the
society of his new-made friends, it must be admitted that the presence
and companionship of Miss Rainsfield had more attractions for him than
he pretended to admit; though the fact that his heart was a little
interested in the matter at last began to dawn upon his mind. It was in
fact almost impossible for any man, whose affections were not
pre-engaged, to live in the enjoyment of a contiguity with such a
creature as Eleanor Rainsfield without feeling deeply the fascination of
her cultivated mind, her charming person, and graceful unaffected
manner. How much more susceptible of a loving impress, then, must have
been the mind of John Ferguson, who retaining nature's freshness itself,
at once perceived a kindred spirit in the fair cousin of Mr. Rainsfield.
On the other hand, the charming girl herself--young and inexperienced,
early deprived of the guiding influence of her fond parents, and seldom
mixing in society--had very rare opportunities of forming any opinion of
the world or its motives; and knew not the accomplished art of
dissembling her feelings, when the ice of her outward reserve had been
once broken. The conversation and ingenuous manner of her companion
pleased her, and she took an interest and pleasure in his society, which
she had no idea of concealing. What her feelings were, at this period of
her acquaintance with Ferguson, it were difficult to surmise; but, in
all probability they were embraced in a friendly regard for him, whose
mind and character she intuitively esteemed: a species of admiration,
engendering a confidence in their friendly intercourse; and which in the
breast of a young girl, actuated solely by the spontaneous actions of
her own feelings, tends more than anything to beget a feeling of
affection for the man who thus engrosses her attention. There is
perhaps no friendship which produces so fond a recollection as this;
and no feeling so likely to favourably impress a youthful and
ardent-minded creature as that which induces her to pour her thoughts,
without restraint, into the ear of him with whom she converses; even
though they be the merest platitudes. That confidence, with which she is
led on to unveil her soul, carries with it a regard which is indelibly
impressed on her mind; and such was the feeling with which Eleanor
regarded John Ferguson, though she too was unacquainted with the
presence of any sentiment other than mere friendship; but we are
anticipating.
As we have said, time was not stationary at Strawberry Hill, nor on the
road; for on the day our narrative continues with, Tom Rainsfield made
his appearance, with the intelligence that he had only a short time
previously left William Ferguson on the road with his sheep; so that he
might be expected to be at the crossing-place on the Wombi, within an
hour or so. Tom was instantly introduced to John Ferguson; and
volunteered, as soon as he had satisfied the calls of hunger, to return
with him to the river, and assist in getting the sheep over.
The offer was thankfully declined by John, who assured the other, that
he and his brother, with the assistance of their men, were perfectly
adequate to the task; but it was generously persisted in by young
Rainsfield; and, in a short time afterwards, the two were to be seen
bending their steps to the crossing-place, which they reached about the
same time that William and his flocks slowly wended their way to the
river.
We have stated, at the first mention of his name to the reader, that Tom
Rainsfield was a fine generous-minded young fellow. At the time of his
arrival at Strawberry Hill, he had just finished a long equestrian
journey, and was necessarily tired and fatigued; so that the readiness
with which he proffered his assistance to the Fergusons was an instance
of kindness, and an obliging disposition, which was his general
character. He was dressed in the usual bush costume, viz, jumper,
breeches and belt, riding boots, spurs, and cabbage-tree hat; and in his
frank open countenance could at once be read the genuineness of his
friendship. He was in truth a noble fellow; high-spirited and
warm-hearted; bold and daring, though, perhaps, a little thoughtless and
impetuous. His figure, though not decidedly tall, was of a good height,
light and elegantly formed, and altogether was such as would command the
admiration of the fair sex; while the facile freedom of his speech, the
easy grace of his manners, and his gentlemanly bearing, were sufficient
to insure the respect of his fellows, and to establish, on a lasting
footing, the esteem of his friends.
During their short walk from the house the two young men had naturally
fallen into conversation, and had, even in that limited period, become
mutually attached to each other.
"I overtook your brother on the road," said Tom, in the continuation of
a dialogue, "and, knowing it could be none other than he, I introduced
myself, and we knew one another at once. He is a fine fellow, and just
my style. If you don't favour us much with your company at our place I
promise you you shall have enough of me at yours; for your brother and I
will be sworn friends. He tells me, too, that he expects his sister is
coming to place herself under your bachelor protection: is such the
case? You have said nothing about it up at the Hill, or I think they
would have told me."
"I made no mention of the circumstance," replied John, "to either your
brother or his lady, as, as yet, it is by no means decided upon; for my
own part, I hardly like the idea of bringing the poor girl out to this
remote part of the country. I should prefer seeing it a little more
settled first, though my brother William is madly anxious to get her out
with us; she herself, I think, could be easily influenced either the one
way or the other."
"Then by all means let her join you," cried Tom; "give William his way,
and us the pleasure of knowing her. If there is any hesitation on your
part, I will enlist the services of our women folk; and if they don't
tease you into compliance before a month is over, it is a caution. Why,
they'll be madly hilarious, when they hear the bare mention of such a
scheme; they surely can't be aware of the fact of your possessing such a
treasure as a sister, or I am sure they would be on to you at once to
induce a visit from her."
"Under any circumstances, it will require some delay," replied John; "as
we could not think of getting her to join us, until we had established
some comfortable home to bring her to; and I fear it will be a
considerable time ere that can be accomplished."
"That's easily managed," returned Tom. "Never mind your house; she can
come on a visit to us until you get your place ready. I am sure our
folks will be delighted to have her company. Eleanor will be a very
suitable companion for her; and I am sure she will be an acquisition to
Eleanor, who sadly wants a lively companion of her own age. I am
confident your sister would dispel much of our cousin's settled
melancholy, and make her see the sacrifice she is contemplating."
"I have no doubt the girls would suit each other admirably," replied
John; "and if I think myself justified in asking my sister, and she can
be persuaded to come out here, I doubt not they will soon become
friends; but may I ask to what you allude by your cousin's sacrifice?"
"Simply marriage to one to whom she considers herself engaged," said
Tom, "while, in my opinion, it is perfect folly; she is absolutely
throwing herself away. I cannot bring myself to think she entertains any
liking for the man, for I don't believe any intellectual woman could
discover anything in him worthy of esteem. You are acquainted with him,
though no doubt his character is better known to me than to you, for I
have had more opportunities of observing it. It is Bob Smithers; and
she has consented to marry him through the importunities of his
sister-in-law. It appears Mrs. Smithers was an intimate friend of
Eleanor's mother, and used to joke Eleanor about Bob; who, when a
younger man, and when my cousin was a mere child, used to be
particularly attentive to her; so, amongst them, a match was made up
between the two. Since then Eleanor has seen very little of her
betrothed; but his assiduous advocate, his sister-in-law, has continued
to press his suit; and obtained from Eleanor a renewal of her pledge. In
fact, the poor girl has been absolutely cajoled into an acceptance, as
much from an ignorance of Bob's character, and a desire to gratify her
mother's friend, as from any feelings of her own. I will do Mrs.
Smithers the justice to say, I believe she does not know the extent of
her brother-in-law's vileness; and that what she considers his little
weaknesses, will be effectually rectified by a union with our Eleanor;
but I don't like to see the poor girl sacrificed, and have a good mind
to save her (if she would take me) by proposing to her myself; though I
believe she thinks her word irrevocable, and will submit to Bob's claim
as the fulfilment of a duty. I believe Smithers intends pushing his suit
shortly himself; for when he disposes of another block or two of his
country, he intends stocking the remainder of his runs with the proceeds
of what he has sold, and settling down for himself. However, it will
take him some little time before he can complete his plans, and if I can
prevent his marrying Eleanor I will do so."
Tom Rainsfield continued conversing, or audibly soliloquizing in this
strain, without noticing the abstraction into which his companion had
fallen; and might have prolonged, even for an hour, his declamation
against Bob Smithers, had not the current of his thoughts been arrested,
and John Ferguson aroused from his reverie, by their being hailed from
the opposite bank by William, who had arrived with the sheep.
This was the signal for animation; and for hours all the party were
busily engaged effecting a passage of the stream with the ovine mass;
while the sun had just began to dip on the horizon, as the last of the
animals passed the fluvial barrier.
"Now," said Tom, as he gazed upon the assembled flock on the Wombi's
bank, "you had better let the men camp here with the sheep for the
night, and you and William come up and spend the evening, and stop the
night with us."
To this advice, however, there was one dissenting voice, and that voice
was John's. He had, within the previous hour, lost the interest he had
before experienced in a visit to Strawberry Hill; or rather, he now
wished to avoid the place altogether. And yet his heart yearned for one
of the residents; he desired to bask in the inspiring smile of his
spirit's charmer; he felt a longing to gaze once more into the face of
Eleanor Rainsfield, and read in her eyes, either the confirmation of
his fears, or the entire repudiation of any such engagement as that
mentioned by her cousin. Alas, poor John! he was hopelessly enthralled
in Cupid's bondage, and he felt it; though his calmer judgment whispered
to him an indulgence of such a sentiment was selfish and useless. If
such an attachment, or even engagement (he thought to himself), did
exist, and of that, from his friend's affirmation, he had no doubt, it
must have been entered into with her consent, and evident approval; for
by her cousin's account she was immovable, even to his entreaty; why,
therefore, should he, almost a stranger, attempt to interpose himself
between her and her evident inclination? Such were the thoughts that
contended in his mind, when he wished to avoid the Hill, and take his
departure at once with the sheep for his own station.
His brother, however, was differently disposed; he had travelled a long
distance, and was pretty tired of his vocation; he knew that the animals
could not travel much further that day, and if they proceeded another
two or three miles they would have to halt just the same; while nothing
would be gained, but the probability of having to camp with them. So,
bushman though he was, he preferred comfortable quarters for the night,
to a stretcher beside a camp fire. He therefore raised his voice against
his brother's objection; and John was thus out-voted in the conclave,
and compelled to submit to the over-ruling of his companions. They,
therefore, made arrangements for the halt; informing their men that they
would be with them on the morning by daylight; and then joined their
friend, and sauntered towards the house.
From Tom the ladies soon learnt the scheme of the brothers with regard
to their sister, and were importunate in their entreaties to hurry her
arrival. John Ferguson, who had not recovered the despondency the
communication of Tom had thrown him into, was quite bewildered with the
badinage that was directed to him from all quarters during the evening,
for his reluctance in bringing his sister out to the station. Mrs.
Rainsfield affirmed that it was because he was such a confirmed
bachelor, he could not bear the thought of being under a lady's
dominion, even though it were his sister; while Tom declared his belief
that Mr. Ferguson was afraid of presenting her, for fear that he, Tom,
would effect a reprisal, and walk off with her. Even as it was, he said,
he would not answer for himself; if Miss Ferguson was as charming as he
fully anticipated she would prove, he thought he would enter into a
compact with her brothers and secure her at once.
All this raillery and playfulness, was little heeded by John Ferguson,
who remained particularly abstracted; so much so, that it became
distinctly discernible, and the loquacity of his friends gradually
subdued. As the conversation began to slacken, Miss Rainsfield raised
her eyes from her work, and addressing their taciturn visitor in the
sweetest possible voice, asked him if he would not allow his sister to
remain on a visit with them for a short time, before she fixed her abode
with her brothers; so as to give her an opportunity of settling herself
in her new home, making her acquaintance with her neighbours, and
affording them the pleasure of her society.
John was roused to consciousness by this appeal, and replied that he
would be most happy to be the means of his sister cultivating and
enjoying their friendship; but that if she made up her mind to live with
her brothers at Fern Vale, she would be her own mistress, and have
entire control over her own actions; so that the acceptance and
prolongation of any visit would in a great measure depend upon her own
whim. He said, however, from what he knew of her disposition, he had no
doubt she would far prefer the agreeable society of such friends as Mrs.
and Miss Rainsfield, to the dull monotony of a guardianship of two
bachelor brothers.
The conversation, after this episode, brightened, and was continued in
a pleasing strain for the remainder of the evening.
On the following morning, true to their word, the young men took their
departure, and reached their station without the occurrence of an event
worth recording; and for the next two or three days, they were fully
occupied in the settlement of matters at Fern Vale. In the midst of a
routine of business, John Ferguson had little time to think of matters
relating to his feelings; but when the first bustle succeeded to
leisure, his thoughts of Eleanor returned with redoubled force. He would
then picture to his imagination her expressive features; he would dream
of her abstractedly by day, and her form was the subject of his visions
by night; and yet, though he thought her personal charms the perfection
of frail humanity, his admiration was not so much for the outward fane,
as the spirit that held dominion within. It is true his attention had
been first arrested by her beauty; but the cause of those after
feelings, which now consumed his soul, was the constant contemplation
of her gentleness, amiability, mental accomplishments, and pure
unsullied spirit. These were they which won his love, and secured his
heart in a hopeless thraldom. In its empire he had established one
sovereign, who was supreme, and that sovereign was Eleanor; his soul had
but one idol, and the deity of this feticism was Eleanor; his mind had
raised one standard of human perfection, and the motto of that standard,
the excelsior of his fate, was Eleanor. The spirit of Eleanor was in
every bush; her face smiled down upon him from every tree; the very
birds seemed for the time, in his presence, to forget their natural
utterance, and screamed in various tones of dissonance the name of
Eleanor. And yet (he would think in his musings) this prize was not to
be his; she was the cherished of another, to whom she had pledged her
love. What then was left for him? Why should he entertain one thought of
her? It was clear the possession of this treasure was never for him;
then why should he allow her to retain dominion in his mind?
These mental interrogations he could not answer to his own satisfaction.
He attempted to argue himself into a belief that he was mistaken in his
feelings towards her; that she was not, in fact, the beacon towards
which all his hopes were directed; but the sophistry failed to offer
consolation to his wounded spirit, and he felt that he could not banish
her from his thoughts: the task was hopeless.
Weeks passed away thus, without the occurrence of any event specially
worth chronicling. Tom Rainsfield and William Ferguson had become
inseparable friends, and were constantly together, either at the one
station or the other; while John's visits to his neighbouring friends
were short, and at remote intervals. His manner had become thoughtful
and grave, and had not failed to attract the notice of his friends, from
its contrast to his usual character. Shearing had commenced; and his
mind, from the constant diversion of his thoughts, had partially
recovered its wonted elasticity. His sister had expressed her
willingness to join her brothers; and the dray having arrived from Alma,
with the necessary materials to complete their dwelling, John had
hurried on the carpenters with their work.
It was determined by the Fergusons that the dray then on the station,
should go down to town with the first load of their wool; and that
William should follow it, and procure furniture and other necessaries
for it to return with. He was then to proceed to his father's house,
take up his sister, bring her round to the station by way of Mr.
Dawson's, and leave her at Strawberry Hill for a week or two, until the
house at Fern Vale was ready for her reception. These various
arrangements being completed; such as the despatch of the dray, the
acquaintance of Mr. Ferguson at Acacia Creek of their plans, and the
arrival of the other dray with supplies; William took his departure;
and John, after he had despatched a second load of wool, rode over to
Strawberry Hill to make a personal delivery of the salt he had borrowed
from Mr. Rainsfield.
It had been some time since John Ferguson had paid his respects at
Strawberry Hill, and his visit on this occasion was hailed with no
little surprise, and possibly with a good deal of pleasure by more than
one member of the family. Mrs. Rainsfield was particular in her
enquiries, as to the cause of his continuing to seclude himself, and
anxiously inquisitive for a solution of his mysterious melancholy.
Eleanor was unaltered, either in personal appearance or her manner
towards him; she entertained the same admiration, and though her heart
whispered to her suspicions, that she was in some way connected with his
dejection, she had no idea of the extent of his feelings' ravishment. At
the same time she did not deem any secresy of her admiration essential
to a compatibility with modesty. She found pleasure in the society of
John Ferguson; liked his manner and person; and therefore threw into her
reception of him, when they met, a warmth and cordiality, which, though
only expressive of her own pure friendship, filled with ecstatic glow
the very blood of her enraptured lover. She was, in fact, though
unconsciously to herself, with the spirit she was investing in the mere
exercise of common-place formalities, creating, or rather strengthening,
a feeling in the breast of John Ferguson, which never could be
eradicated; but which would, of a certainty, consume his life and
spirits, if he were not blessed with a reciprocal attachment.
In the present interview, however, Eleanor did not join with the lady of
the house in her playful badinage; indeed, it was not her usual manner;
but she had eyes, and those eyes (differing from the followers of Mr.
Irving) spoke in no unknown tongue, at least to John; to him they had
the power of communicating in many languages, so that when she gave him
a look, in which was embodied all she wished to convey, its meaning was
instantly and rightly interpreted by our hero. If we were called upon to
describe in words the tumultuous ragings of those elements that cleave
the very mountains, lay prostrate the gigantic denizens of the forest,
and make the earth tremble with the power of their agitation; if we were
required to depict the falling avalanche, that sweeps in its course all
vestiges of vitality from the face of the earth; or to form an adequate
conception of the occult ramifications of the electric fluid, which is
at man's pleasure made to compass the globe with the quickness of
thought, we would confess ourselves incompetent. Equally so are we to
describe the glance of a woman. Some looks there are, however, which,
though inexplicable to uninitiated spectators, to those who cherish even
a corruscation of mental light, speak volumes of information; and such
it was that Eleanor cast upon John Ferguson. What was conveyed in that
look we will not pretend to fathom; but simply affirm that its effect
was an entire derangement of the love-sick swain's determination to
forget the cause of his wretchedness, and a dispersion of every idea
save the one ruling sentiment of love for her. Thus, in a moment,
discretion was forgotten, and resolution cast to the wind; and he
blindly satiated himself with deep draughts of love's ambrosia, without
a moment's contemplation of the remote chances, or absolute
impossibility of his ever possessing the fountain source.
Eve's fair daughters have always an eye for the discernment and
evolution of love's mysterious workings; and often detect the existence
of the tender passion, where the percipiency of their lords' mental
penetralia fails to enlighten them on its presence. Hence, while Mr.
Rainsfield never dreamed of John Ferguson being a rival of Smithers for
the hand of Eleanor, and before she herself even thoroughly knew it, his
weaker half had made the discovery with considerable delight and
communicated the knowledge to her spouse.
By him the news was received in a far different spirit than was expected
by his wife; and he at once remarked that he would take an immediate
opportunity of warning his young friend against entertaining any feeling
beyond friendship for Eleanor. He reminded his wife that the girl had
voluntarily engaged herself to Smithers, and would therefore marry him;
consequently, there was no use torturing Ferguson, by allowing him to
cherish hopes which were not destined to be fulfilled.
"But why should they not be?" replied his wife: "I am certain he loves
Eleanor, and am pretty sure that Eleanor loves him. That she does not
entertain any such feeling for Smithers I am confident; she has been
forced, more than otherwise, into that engagement with him, and the very
thought of attaching herself to him for life is making her wretched. If
you took the trouble to notice her, you would perceive with what
pleasure she receives the attention of Mr. Ferguson; and I am convinced
he has only to declare himself to receive an unqualified consent."
"Well, I beg you will not mention the subject to her," said Rainsfield;
"so long as she remains engaged to Bob Smithers you surely do not intend
to argue that it is proper for her to receive the attention of another
admirer. If she refuses Smithers, then I can see no objection to her
favouring the suit of our neighbour; but until then it were only madness
to give Ferguson any encouragement. I shall warn him of his danger at
once, and again request you to maintain silence to Eleanor on the
subject."
"For my part," persisted the lady, "I don't think Smithers is entitled
to such consideration: he rarely or never visits Eleanor; he shows her
no attention; and takes it for granted his claims are indisputable, and
that she is ready to accept him whenever it is his convenience to take
her. If Eleanor had the slightest spirit in her nature she would scorn
such a man; and I think it is entirely a false notion of rectitude that
makes her adhere to the engagement."
"It may be in opposition to her happiness, my dear," replied her
husband, "but it cannot be a false notion of rectitude, as you call it;
it is rather rectitude in the strictest sense. She has been induced to
accept Mr. Smithers, and to ratify it on more than one occasion;
consequently, it is not for us to judge, whether she will be happy or
not in such a connexion, but to leave her to her own free will and
judgment; therefore, I say again, while this engagement exists, it is
not right to allow young Ferguson to imagine he has any chance of
acceptance."
"But I know he would not be refused," replied Mrs. Rainsfield.
"Dear me!" exclaimed the husband, "it is wonderful how you women will
persevere in a cause that you interest yourselves in. There is no use in
your reiterating that expression, however; for I tell you again, that
John Ferguson must be cautioned against allowing himself to be carried
away by his feelings; and I am confident, that when I point out to him
the nature of his position, his good sense will enable him to see its
untenableness, and cause him to desist from any pointed attentions."
Mrs. Rainsfield was a dutiful wife, and, however much against her own
inclinations, she submitted to her husband's wishes; though she left his
presence grieved and disappointed. She well knew that a match between
Eleanor and Smithers would prove unhappy; while she was as fully certain
that a union with John Ferguson would be as felicitous as any human
connexion could be. We will not say that the spirit of match-making,
inherent in the nature of all matrons, was wounded at its defeat;
although she certainly cherished the idea of bringing the two young
people together, it was not so much with the mere wish to be the means
of accomplishing a ceremony, as to see them happy. For she had a
sincere desire for the welfare of Eleanor, for whom she felt a
compassion on account of her dependent condition, and an attachment for
her virtues and affectionate manner to herself; besides the esteem, we
have already said, she felt for our hero. She, however, determined,
without a violation of her husband's commands, to sound Eleanor upon the
subject of her engagement with Smithers; and if she perceived any
disposition to break off on her part, to give John a hint of the
probability of his success, if he renewed his suit.
In the meantime, Mr. Rainsfield took the opportunity of which he spoke
to his wife, and communicated to John the utter hopelessness of his
persevering in his attentions to the young lady; informing him that her
affections were already engaged; and recommended him, for his own peace
of mind, that he should banish all thoughts of an amative nature. Mr.
Rainsfield further remarked, that he felt himself in justice bound to
give his friend that caution, before he allowed any warm feeling to
take a firm possession of his heart; at the same time, he assured him
their conversation was unknown to the lady herself, as was also, so he
had reason to believe, the state of his feelings towards her. Therefore,
John need not consider the annihilation of his hopes of obtaining her
hand, a decree of banishment from Strawberry Hill.
Before the conclusion of this little exordium John had become perfectly
unconscious; and, at its termination, mechanically shook the hand of his
interlocutor, while he took his departure. All the communication that he
could comprehend, was, that it was intended to dispel all the bright
illusions love's fancy had conjured in his mind. All his momentary
visions of prospective happiness were swept away, like the misty canopy
of the mountain before the morning breeze. His ariel palaces of
imaginative grandeur, lay shattered at his feet; and he stood like the
last of a defeated host, viewing destruction and desolation around him.
His fondest hopes were blighted; he felt as one robbed of his very soul;
he was wretched and dejected, and turned from the spot with the feelings
of an outcast, an alien; or as a once powerful courtier, removed from
the presence of his sovereign, to a perpetual expatriation. Strawberry
Hill had for ever lost its interest to him; the only treasure it
contained held out no prospect of possession. In his heart there was a
blank, which nothing short of his idol could fill; but it was empty, and
seared; and vacant was his mind, and miserable his feelings, as he
leisurely journeyed on his way to Fern Vale. They were, in fact, such as
can be better imagined than described; and when he reached his station,
and delivered his horse to one of his men in silence, he went about his
usual vocations as one almost destitute of reason.
What the feelings of the lady most concerned were, had they been
consulted, we can well understand; but we must refrain from indulging in
anticipations. The manner of John's leave-taking, had struck, with no
little amazement, all those who saw him. Mrs. Rainsfield was the one,
who, conjecturing its cause, could best appreciate his feelings; she
pitied him, and secretly determined, that if he and Eleanor were to be
for ever separated, it should not be for want of strategy on her part.
She felt that not only his happiness, but the girl's too, depended upon
their union; and she considered her husband had taken too strict a
notion of the engagement with Smithers, who, she believed, thought very
little of it: therefore, Mrs. Rainsfield concluded, very little
manoeuvring would break it off; and so determined to devote her
energies to such a consummation.