CHAPTER VI.

"Oh! wretch without a tear--without a thought, Save joy above the ruin thou hast wrought-- The time shalt come, nor long remote, when thou Shalt feel far more than thou inflictest now."

BYRON.

When Smithers had partially recovered from the wholesome chastisement administered by William Ferguson, and had witnessed, from his concealment, the hasty departure of his foe, the nature of his journey, and the cause of his precipitance, flashed instantly across his mind; and, we would fain believe, his conscience was visited by compunctions for his unpardonable brutality. He cogitated for some time on the course he was to pursue, and thought of how he could explain away the circumstances; for even to her whom he knew would forgive much he hardly dared venturing an explanation; knowing too well that his conduct was not to any extent defensible. He, however, determined to make the attempt to see Eleanor, and endeavour to remove from her mind any impression that might be injurious to his cause; and with that idea he approached the house.

Oh, Smithers, you ignorant inflated fool! How little you know the nature of woman, and how less you can estimate their worth, and appreciate the value of such an one as her who has surrendered her heart to thy keeping! Thinkest thou that it is woman's only province to forgive? That thy perpetual contumely should be continually pardoned, and thou, without any innate goodness or recommendatory virtue, should ever claim the devotion of a spirit the personification of purity, while thy conduct is such as would make that spirit, were not its adjuncts truth and compassion, shrink with loathing from the vile contamination of your very breath, and a fear of the consequences of your truculence and inhumanity! It is true, some women blinded by the infatuation of love, would sacrifice their happiness, peace, and liberty, even life, on the unworthy object of their ardent affection; but if thou believest this, buoy not thyself up with the idea that all thy sins will be forgiven thee! Eleanor has had much to deprecate in thee! many have been the wounds thy churlishness has inflicted on her gentle nature, and though she was willing to sacrifice all her earthly happiness to maintain intact her truth and honour, yet remember she is not actuated by love, but by an exalted sense of duty. Let her once be convinced that she is exonerated from a performance of that, and thy bird has flown. Duty has a strong tractive influence on a mind attuned to a high appreciation of integrity; but love is a still more powerful incentive, and dost thou know thou art not the happy possessor of that love? Yes, thou not only knowest that no such sentiment is felt for you by that being whose purity thou contemnest, but thou fearest, nay, even art certain, that the object of that being's love is another; and that other he whom thou hast striven to make thine enemy! Yet, knowing all this, thinkest thou that woman, frail confiding woman, could trust thee as her mundane protector? Because Eleanor has forgiven much, thou thinkest thyself secure; but if this last is not the _coup de grâce_ in thy catalogue of contumacious infamies we shall be inclined to deprecate Eleanor's leniency. But to return.

One of Bob Smithers' characteristics was a conceited self-complacency that distended his very soul with its blinding virus; and, speaking in the figurative of a popular apothegm, he estimated his commendable qualities as equivalent to no insignificant quantity of that mean maltine beverage which we thirsty members of the great Anglo-Saxon family call small-beer. He therefore thought he had but to go to his betrothed with a penitential cast of countenance, and claim as a right, and receive as a matter of course, that forgiveness which he was entitled to expect.

"I was only", (he said apologetically to himself), "in a bit of 'a scot' at the time, and when she came in my way I pushed her off when she fell. It was her own fault, and she must know I did nothing to her but what any other man similarly situated would have done."

At the conclusion of his meditations he stepped on to the verandah of the house, and seeing a servant passing out of the sitting-room, into which he had entered by the window, he called her and asked, "Where was her mistress, or Miss Eleanor?"

"Miss Eleanor is ill, and missus is with her," replied the girl who looked awkward and rather sheepish at her questioner.

"Is Miss Eleanor very bad, Mary?" asked Smithers.

"I think she is, sir," replied she.

"Mary! Mary!" called a voice that was almost instantly followed by the utterer, Kate, who ran into the room, saying: "Do run out, and try and find Mr. Rainsfield." But she had hardly got the words out of her mouth, as she stood in the doorway of the room, than, catching sight of Smithers, she uttered a faint scream, and fled hastily from his presence. She was instantly followed by the girl, who had partly heard the cause of her young mistress' illness, and was desirous to escape the questioning of one whose character she could also despise.

Smithers stood musing for some minutes, not altogether pleased with these evidences of repulsion on the part of Eleanor's friends; but his fears of their influence over her mind were only momentary. He must see her, he said to himself; have an interview with her, and the little difficulty will soon be arranged. Then he would hurry his marriage, he thought, and take Eleanor away from the hated influence. "Those Fergusons," he continued in his soliloquy, "are a pragmatic, hateful lot, and I can't understand why Rainsfield does not keep them away from his place." Smithers firmly believed they had been created for the express purpose of causing him annoyance; and their present especial object in settling in that district was to frustrate his marriage, and rob him of his bride elect. "But he would defeat them," he said to himself, "or he'd be--;" but here his mental reservations were interrupted by Mrs. Rainsfield, who exclaimed as she entered the room: "So, sir! you dare to show yourself again in my house after the vile atrocity you have been guilty of. As to your infamy I do not wonder at it, for it is only the fructification of a nature equally depraved, brutal, and worthless. But after your insulting attack upon a guest of mine, and your cruelty to a gentle and amiable girl that you should have ventured within the precincts of this house I am truly astonished. I know you to be too great a coward to do so did you think there was any possibility of your meeting with the one who so lately gave you your deserts; and I can only attribute your presence now as a further proof of your arrogance, and to an endeavour to insult the female inmates of this dwelling."

"I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Rainsfield," replied the object of that lady's invectives; "I never offered any insult to you or any other lady in this house; so your strictures on me are quite uncalled for."

"What, sir! can you stand before me with such barefaced effrontery, and tell me such an unequivocal falsehood?" cried the lady. "Have you not insulted me by cajoling from my presence a gentleman, who is my friend and visitor, to basely assault him? and then what do you say of your dastardly behaviour to that girl who was contemplating her own misery and destruction by throwing herself away on such a wretch as you?"

"I decline to answer you, madam," said Smithers, "for your language is most offensive."

"Then even you are susceptible on the point of feeling," replied Mrs. Rainsfield, "and yet you think I can't feel an insult. I tell you, sir, that if you had subjected me to the treatment that you did Eleanor I should have considered it an offence of the most unpardonable nature. But I love Eleanor even better than I do myself, and you may therefore expect no mercy at my hands. For your offence to myself I shall expect an expiation by your totally absenting yourself from this house; and if I have any influence over the mind of that ill-used girl (which I hope and trust I have), you may rest assured it will be exercised to your disadvantage. So, sir, without any further parley, I have to request that you instantly leave the house."

"I shall do nothing of the sort, madam," replied Smithers, "your husband I presume is the master of this house?"

"Well, sir, I expect him here every moment," exclaimed the lady, "and if you do not obey my injunctions you shall be forcibly expelled from the premises."

"And situated as I am," continued Smithers not heeding the last threat of his irate companion, "with regard to Eleanor, I think I am entitled to see her."

"You shall not be admitted to her presence, sir," replied the lady.

"I wish to see her," said Smithers, "to explain the circumstances under which the accident occurred."

"Accident indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Rainsfield. "It requires no explanation, sir, it speaks for itself. I have already had your brutality recounted by an eyewitness."

"By her friend I presume and one that is therefore not mine," sneered Smithers, "the sister of that villain who first poisoned Eleanor's mind towards me."

"Cease, sir! your invectives against one with whom you are not worthy to be mentioned in the same breath," cried Mrs. Rainsfield. "It was Miss Ferguson who related to me the unmanly and ruffianly manner in which you hurled Eleanor to the ground. She now lies with her life in imminent peril, and yet you have the audacity to stand before me and call it an accident which you will be able to explain."

"Yes, madam! I am confident I shall be able to satisfy Eleanor that it was not intentional on my part. I am exceedingly grieved that she should be so extremely ill, but believe me, Mrs. Rainsfield, this once, that if you will permit me to see her only for a few minutes I will be quite contented, and will certainly relieve her mind from any impression of my having wilfully harmed her."

"No, sir! it is useless your attempting to alter my determination. I tell you emphatically, that you shall not see her. She is now in a raging fever, and the sight of you at this moment might extinguish the flickering flame of her existence. To save me from any painful necessity, I trust, sir, you will see the expediency of ceasing your importunities and at once taking your departure."

"I much regret that you will not permit me to see Eleanor," exclaimed Smithers, "because I am sure you are acting under a misapprehension of my motives and actions. If you would but permit me to explain, I--"

"It is useless, sir."

"But I am confident you must have been misinformed of the circumstances. Your informant is no friend of mine, and would have consequently given the affair a colouring detrimental to my interests."

Mrs. Rainsfield could stand no more of this colloquy, and with difficulty suppressed her rage. It had twice or thrice been just on the point of overflowing; but now it was beyond her power to restrain it. To have her young friend Kate branded as a liar by the infamous viper before her struck her dumb with indignation; and it was some moments before she regained the power of utterance, when she exclaimed:

"You mean grovelling, despicable villain! You must of necessity add to your opprobriousness by including Miss Ferguson among those whom you choose to insult, and attack her with your scurrility. Because you generate lies yourself do you think she is capable of uttering falsehoods? I will endure you no longer. Instantly leave this house, sir, do you hear me? or I'll--"

"Pray, what is the matter, my dear?" enquired Mr. Rainsfield, who entered at this moment.

"Oh, John! cause that man to leave the house, and I'll tell you," replied his wife.

"My dear Rainsfield," commenced Smithers, but was cut short by the infuriated lady, who exclaimed:

"Not a word in my presence, sir. I have already ordered you to leave the house; do you intend to obey me?" Then, turning to her husband, Mrs. Rainsfield said in a voice almost choking with passion: "John, will you not assist and support me? I have been grossly insulted by that man, who persists in defying me. Is he to continue doing so?" and she sank into a chair, and gave vent to her excited feelings in a flood of tears.

Rainsfield was not one of those unfortunates, belonging to that class of marital bipeds known as "hen-pecked husbands," though he was certainly of an uxorious disposition. It cannot therefore be supposed that he could have calmly witnessed the distress of mind his spouse evidently appeared to be in without feeling some sympathy; and she being in that state in which philosophers tell us woman soonest touches the heart of inexorable man, viz., in tears, that sympathy was heightened. Rainsfield's connubial heart was softened at the evidence of his wife's woes; he therefore turned to Smithers, and said: "Leave us together just now, Bob; I'll see you before you go."

It must be distinctly understood that though Rainsfield, as he was in duty bound, sided with his wife on this occasion, he had no desire to quarrel with Smithers, even if his wife had; far from it. It is true he had heard something of the little fracas of flogging and fainting; but that was nothing to him. If the young men chose to quarrel, he considered, let them do so! and if his cousin chose to interfere, and get hard knocks for so doing, he could not help it. If the girl had fainted it was a pity, but what influence had he over her syncope? Women always made a great deal, he thought, about those things, but generally cool down after a while and forget such little grievances. So when he communicated to Smithers his wish that he should leave the house, he did so with an expression in his look that plainly said: "Never mind, old fellow, you will lose nothing by leaving your case in my hands." The delinquent, we have no doubt, fully understood it, for he instantly obeyed the behest. Let it be said, however, to the credit of Mr. Rainsfield, that as he took this view of the case he was only aware that Eleanor had fainted and was ill; but had no idea that William Ferguson had gone off to Alma for a doctor, and that Eleanor's case was so dangerous. He therefore imagined that his wife had magnified her danger, and the heinousness of Smithers' crime; and consequently thought more lightly of the whole affair than did his partner. But he was shortly to be undeceived.

As Smithers left the room Rainsfield took a seat beside his wife and said: "Well, my dear, what is the cause of all this? you seem agitated. I have heard something of what has happened, but surely that is not sufficient cause for your angry altercation with Bob Smithers, and making yourself miserable."

"Do you not think so, John?" she replied; "first to have Eleanor nearly brought to death's door (for she is in such a raging fever that I have been compelled to get William Ferguson to go to Alma for a doctor), and then to be insulted and openly defied in my own house by the villain who is the cause of it all; do you not think that is sufficient to make me agitated?"

"Certainly, my dear," replied her husband, "the matter appears to me in a new light. I was not aware it was of so serious a nature; pray tell me all about it."

Mrs. Rainsfield was not long in replying to this mandate, and speedily gave her husband a detailed account of the horrors of Smithers' proceedings, permitting them in nowise to lose in her narrative any of their force and piquancy. She then wound up her recapitulation of atrocities by demanding to know if her husband could think of permitting so vile a man to darken his door again. "Understand me, John," she said, "I shall expect you to protect me against him and his insults: and that can't be done while his presence here is tolerated. If ever he enters this house I shall most assuredly consider that you are conniving at his insolence, and shall certainly confine myself to my own room during his stay."

We have seen that Mr. Rainsfield was mindful of his wife's wishes, but at the same time had no desire to make a breach with Smithers; consequently he found himself in a dilemma, from which he saw no extrication without giving offence to one or other of the parties. He therefore made no promise to his wife.

"You don't answer me, John," said she, "what am I to consider you think of his conduct?"

"Well, my dear," replied her husband, "I really can't tell. It is certainly reprehensible, but there is no use quarrelling with Smithers. If it is any satisfaction to you that he should not visit us I dare say he will not trouble you; but for my own part I can't see how you can expect him to forego his right to see Eleanor."

"Eleanor herself, when she recovers, if she ever does, will relieve him from that obligation," replied Mrs. Rainsfield.

"How can you say that?" said her husband. "She has expressed no intention of doing so."

"No, certainly; the poor girl is not in a state to express any determination," replied the wife; "but do you think she will suffer herself to be led to the altar by a brute like him, a man who has shown himself on more than one occasion quite unworthy of her? If she has got the spirit I think she has she will treat him with that contempt which he deserves."

"I see how it is," exclaimed Rainsfield, "you are prejudiced against Smithers."

"Prejudiced against Smithers, John?" replied his wife; "yes, I may be, but not in the sense you mean. You fancy I dislike the man because I would prefer Eleanor to accept another but you are mistaken. Hitherto I never disliked Smithers as a man, but as a suitor of Eleanor I certainly abhor him; and for this reason that I saw her inevitable fate would be misery and wretchedness if she were ever mated to him. Now though I have more than ever cause not only to detest him for his insolence to me but to fear him for Eleanor's life."

"You are infatuated against him," replied the husband. "And for this quarrel of yours you would wish to destroy his happiness irrespective of the feelings of Eleanor herself. You say she is really ill and cannot be spoken to on the subject; then at present let the matter rest until her recovery."

"On one condition only," replied Mrs. Rainsfield, "and that is that Smithers in the interval be banished from the house. If you agree to that I am content to leave his further expatriation to her good judgment."

"So let it be," replied her husband. "I'll see Bob, and try to persuade him to let the settlement of the affair remain in _statu quo_."

With that the couple parted, the wife to return to the sick room, and the husband to seek Smithers. We will not trace their steps on their respective missions but merely state that Mrs. Rainsfield and Kate passed an anxious night with their invalid. At an early hour on the following morning, hearing a horseman's step passing the house, while they were anxiously expecting the doctor, Mrs. Rainsfield looked from the window of the room where she was keeping her vigils and detected the retreating outline of Bob Smithers' form as he departed for his home. Her husband she had not seen since their interview in the parlour, but as she had not since that time left Eleanor's bedside it gave her no concern; or at least she never thought of an absence of which she was not cognizant. However he had been absent all night, and while the doctor, who had arrived with William shortly after the departure of Smithers, was administering his febrifuges to poor Eleanor he was enacting the scene which we will detail to the reader.

Rainsfield had had a long conversation with Smithers on the subject that had been communicated to him by his wife; and had, after a good deal of persuasion, induced him to agree to absent himself from Strawberry Hill until Eleanor's recovery.

Smithers, when he found his companion disposed to favour him, was the louder in his asseverations of guiltlessness; demanding an instant opportunity of explanation, and vowing vengeance against everybody concerned, and John Rainsfield in particular, for not being master in his own house. However Rainsfield, though he was inclined to forget his dignity by stooping to entreaty with him, was nevertheless firm to his purpose, and not to be intimidated by his blustering; and at last succeeded in inducing him to promise to take his departure by daylight the following morning, so as to avoid the possibility of any further unpleasantness. With that he left him to his own meditations, and walked away.

Mr. Rainsfield had not taken many steps beyond the out-buildings belonging to the house before he heard his own name called in a cautious manner from behind a tree; and, glancing his eye in the direction whence came the voice, he was startled to see the stalwart figure of a black, half concealed behind the trunk, beckoning him with his finger. The suddenness of the apparition for some moments unnerved him, and deprived him of the power of utterance. He, however, mastered his fears; and, as his self-control returned, he demanded to know what the black wanted with him.

"You know me, Mr. Rainsfield?" replied the black, "I'm Jemmy Davies."

"Oh, yes, I know you," replied Mr. Rainsfield, "but I thought you and the whole of your tribe had left the country."

"So we did, sir, but we've all come back again, and a great many more of the tribe too, and they are determined to kill you. Barwang and all Dugingi's friends will kill you, and I can't prevent them though I've tried; for they are too strong for me. So I've come to give you warning."

"They intend to kill me, do they? then, by G--! they shall repent their rash resolve. But how am I to believe this?" asked Mr. Rainsfield of the black. "You! you wretch, have you got some vile scheme in your head. Think yourself fortunate that I've no gun with me or I'd shoot you on the spot."

"You wouldn't shoot me," replied Jemmy Davies; "didn't Mr. Tom tell you that I'm always a good friend to you, how I tried to stop Dugingi from stealing your rations when you killed so many of our tribe; and now I come to tell you that they want to kill you and you think me no good. But what for do you think, Mr. Rainsfield, I want to do you harm? If I want to see you die I wouldn't tell you of this; but let the black fellows kill you. If you will not believe me I can't help it; but if you like to come down to the crossing-place to-night at dark I'll meet you and show you our camp in the scrub; when you will see if I tell you a lie. I will stop Barwang and his friends as long as I can, but I can't prevent them altogether from coming to you; so you had better look out and be ready."

This warning sounded as an avenging declaration in the ear of Rainsfield. He had for sometime flattered himself on his security and tranquillity; and hoped, nay even believed, that he had effectually ridden himself of a hitherto incessant annoyance. But now that the surviving friends of his foes had returned, with the avowed object of seeking vengeance, he was troubled in his mind. He, however, determined to further question his informant, and, rousing himself from a reverie into which he had fallen, perceived that the black had departed. Mr. Rainsfield dragged through the remainder of the day with a heavy heart, and never more than then regretted the absence of his brother. Should he accept the black's invitation? he asked himself. It would be a satisfaction to know in what force they were collected; but then (he thought) the messenger might mean treachery. However, he would go; he could detect it if it existed, and if it was attempted he could shoot the wretch before he had time or opportunity to betray him. Yes (he thought) he would arm himself well, and meet Jemmy Davies at the time and place he appointed.

"I'm glad you've come, Mr. Rainsfield," exclaimed the black, emerging from the obscurity of the bush, as the squatter rode down to the bank of the river some few hours after the last interview.

"Yes I've come," said Rainsfield, "and at your bidding; but see I am well armed," as he pointed to a brace of revolvers in his belt, "and, if you are attempting to play me false, the first shot I'll fire shall be through your body."

"Never fear me, Mr. Rainsfield," replied Jemmy Davies, "I'm not going to betray you. My greatest fear is not from your pistols but from the tomahawks of my tribe; for if they find me with you they will be sure to kill me."

"Very well," said Rainsfield, "I'll follow you, lead the way;" and the two crossed the stream in silence.

"You had better leave your horse here, sir," said the guide, "in case he should be heard by the tribe."

Rainsfield acted on this hint and dismounted; and fastening the animal to a tree, he said to the black: "Now you can go on, but remember if this is a trap for me you had better think twice before you proceed; for I shall keep my hand ready to lodge a ball in your heart the moment I perceive any treachery."

"Never be afraid, sir," replied the black, who continued to thread the scrub in silence with his companion close to his heels. When they had proceeded thus for some little time Rainsfield perceived by the appearance of lights, and the noise of the blacks' voices, that they were nearing "the camp." Jemmy Davies desired him to keep close to him, and make no noise, as they were nearer the camp than appeared through the thick scrub, and then led him a few steps further forward, when the whole tribe became plainly discernible. They then dropt on their hands and knees and crept close up to what we may call the circumvallation of the gunyahs; and the crouching white man surveyed intently the scene before him. Then would have been the time to have profited by his position if treachery had been meditated; but not a leaf stirred around them, while Rainsfield was lost in a reverie none of the most pleasant. He was, however, aroused from this by Jemmy Davies, who pointed to a group apart from the body of the tribe consisting of about fifteen men, who were all armed with their spears, nullanullas, and boomerangs, and were painted for a corroboree. One black, taller than the rest, was haranguing them at the moment, and his hearers were apparently acquiescing in his directions, from the yells and other marks of approbation with which they from time to time greeted his diatribe.

"That's Barwang and his friends," whispered Jemmy as he drew away his companion from the spot. "They will have a great corroboree to-morrow, and then you look out. To-morrow night they will come up to the station to watch, very likely they will be somewhere about where you saw me this morning; so if you keep some one on the look-out, and fire some shots into the bush, they will think you see them and keep away. They won't do anything to-morrow night, but watch. When they come up to kill you there will come a great many, so keep looking out."

Rainsfield and his companion returned to the crossing-place, when the former mounted his horse and passed through the river, while the latter returned to his tribe.