Part 30 (1/2)
”Say? I won't go! I can't! I won't! Oh, grannie, don't send me there--I would rather die.”
”My dear child, I would not be willing to part with you under any circ.u.mstances, but I cannot interfere between a mother and her child. I would not have allowed any one to do it with me, and believe in acting the same towards any other mother, even though she is my own daughter.
However, there is time to get a reply before you would have to start, so I will write and see what can be done.”
The dear old lady, with her prompt businesslike propensities, sat down and wrote there and then. I wrote also--pleaded with my mother against her decree, begged her to leave me at Caddagat, and a.s.sured her I could never succeed at M'Swat's.
I did not sleep that night, so arose betimes to await the first traveller, whom I asked to post the letters.
We got an answer to them sooner than we expected--at least grannie did.
Mother did not deign to write to me, but in her letter to grannie I was described as an abominably selfish creature, who would not consider her little brothers and sisters. I would never be any good; all I thought of was idleness and ease. Most decidedly I could not get out of going to M'Swat's, as mother had given her word.
”I am sorry for you,” said grannie, ”but it cannot be helped. You can stay there for two or three years, and then I can have you here again.”
I was inconsolable, and would not listen to reason. Ah! that uncle Jay-Jay had been at home to rescue me from this. Then aunt Helen brought her arguments to bear upon me, and persuaded me to think it was necessary for the benefit of my little brothers and sisters that I should take up this burden, which I knew would be too much for me.
It was a great wrench to be torn away from Caddagat--from refinement and comfort--from home! As the days till my departure melted away, how I wished that it were possible to set one's weight against the grim wheel of time and turn it back! Nights I did not sleep, but drenched my pillow with tears. Ah, it was hard to leave grannie and aunt Helen, whom I wors.h.i.+pped, and turn my back on Caddagat!
I suppose it is only a fancy born of the wild deep love I bear it, but to me the flowers seem to smell more sweetly there; and the shadows, how they creep and curl! oh, so softly and caressingly around the quaint old place, as the great sun sets amid the blue peaks; and the never-ceasing rush of the crystal fern-banked stream--I see and hear it now, and the sinking sun as it turns to a sheet of flame the mirror hanging in the backyard in the laundry veranda, before which the station hands were wont to comb and wash themselves. Oh, the memories that crowd upon me!
Methinks I can smell the roses that clamber up the veranda posts and peep over the garden gate. As I write my eyes grow misty, so that I cannot see the paper.
The day for my departure arrived--hot, 110 degrees in the shade. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Frank Hawden was to take me as far as Gool-Gool that evening, and see me on to the coach next day. I would arrive in Yarnung about twelve or one o'clock on Thursday night, where, according to arrangement, Mr M'Swat would be waiting to take me to a hotel, thence to his home next day.
My trunks and other belongings were stowed in the buggy, to which the fat horses were harnessed. They stood beneath the dense shade of a splendid kurrajong, and lazily flicked the flies off themselves while Frank Hawden held the reins and waited for me.
I rushed frantically round the house taking a last look at nooks and pictures dear to me, and then aunt Helen pressed my hand and kissed me, saying:
”The house will be lonely without you, but you must brighten up, and I'm sure you will not find things half as bad as you expect them.”
I looked back as I went out the front gate, and saw her throw herself into a chair on the veranda and cover her face with her hands. My beautiful n.o.ble aunt Helen! I hope she missed me just a little, felt just one pang of parting, for I have not got over that parting yet.
Grannie gave me a warm embrace and many kisses. I climbed on to the front seat of the buggy beside my escort, he whipped the horses--a cloud of dust, a whirr of wheels, and we were gone--gone from Caddagat!
We crossed the singing stream: on either bank great bushes of blackthorn--last native flower of the season--put forth their wealth of magnificent creamy bloom, its rich perfume floating far on the hot summer air. How the sunlight blazed and danced and flickered on the familiar and dearly loved landscape! Over a rise, and the house was lost to view, then good-bye to the crystal creek. The trees of Five-Bob Downs came within eye-range far away on our left. What merry nights I had spent there amid music, flowers, youth, light, love, and summer warmth, when the tide of life seemed full! Where now was Harold Beecham and the thirty or more station hands, who but one short month before had come and gone at his bidding, hailing him boss?
It was all over! My pleasant life at Caddagat was going into the past, fading as the hills which surrounded it were melting into a hazy line of blue.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
My Journey
The coach was a big vehicle, something after the style of a bus, the tilt and seats running parallel with the wheels. At the rear end, instead of a door, was a great tail-board, on the principle of a spring-cart. This was let down, and, after we scrambled over it into our seats, it was fixed half-mast, all the luggage piled thereon, and firmly roped into position. When this was completed, to any one on the ground only the heads of pa.s.sengers were visible above the pile. Had the coach capsized we would have been in a nice fix, as the only means of exit was by crawling up through the back of the box-seat, which rose breast-high--an awkward feat.
Frank Hawden and I parted good friends. I leant out and waved my handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid him from sight.
It was noon, the thermometer registered 112 degrees in the shade, and the dust was simply awful. It rose in such thick grey clouds that often it was impossible to discern the team of five which pulled us, and there was danger of colliding with pa.s.sing vehicles. We were very much crowded, there being sixteen pa.s.sengers. When we settled down and got started, I discovered that I was the only representative of my s.e.x, and that I was sandwiched between a perky youth in his teens and a Chinaman, while a black fellow and a man with a red beard sat opposite. A member of Parliament, farther up the seat, who had been patronizing New Year's Day races in a portion of his electorate, bawled loudly to his companion about ”the doin's of the 'Ouse”. In the perky youth I discovered a professional jockey; and when he found that I was a daughter of d.i.c.k Melvyn, the one-time great horse-breeder, he became very friendly. He gave me a couple of apples out of his tin box under the seat, from whence he also produced his whip for my inspection, and was good enough to say:
”If you can't stand the stink of that bloomin' chow, miss, just change seats with me. I've knocked about, so that I can easy stand some tough smells without much inconvenience.”