Force and Fraud. Ellen Davitt
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Mr Lindsey, you’ve been quite a stranger of late,” said the landlord.
“Yes, I’ve been on a tour in New South Wales. I suppose I can have a bed as usual.”
“To be sure, and supper will be ready in half-an-hour.”
“Oh! I shall have time for a wash before then. Mary, get me a jug of water, there’s a good girl.” And so saying, Mr Lindsey stept up-stairs as if he had not walked twenty-five miles under a blazing sun.
He had brought a change of linen and a vest of Chinese silk and, substituting a coat of a light-coloured woollen material for the one of grass-cloth which he had previously worn, he cut as good a figure as any traveller in the bush could possibly do.
Herbert Lindsey though no dandy, was scrupulously particular in the cleanliness of his attire so, before descending to the supper-room, he summoned the chamber-maid, and requested her to send his linen to the laundress.
The hotel of The Southern Cross being admirably conducted, especially in the important matter of the table, naturally mustered a great number of guests. When Herbert Lindsey entered the room, from twenty to thirty persons were seated at supper – as the repast was called – although it bore a nondescript character: various joints and pastry, as well as tea and coffee, being served at the same time. Ale and porter, as well as wine and spirits were, however, in many cases demanded.
Mr Lindsey was known to the greater number of the company, and by them welcomed as warmly as he had previously been by his host. It was quite natural that he should be so, as his character was eminently social, for he had always plenty of anecdotes, and was ever ready to sing a capital song.
Supper passed gaily over, the viands were excellent, and the appetite of the company not amiss. May good digestion wait on such. However, there is little to be apprehended in this respect amongst such vigorous constitutions. Herbert Lindsey gave proof positive how well he relished his landlord’s good cheer; he drank cup after cup of tea like a thirsty bush-man, and then submitted to be toasted and pledged in a most genial fashion.
Chapter II
The Artist’s Friend
Supper was scarcely concluded, when a gentleman, who was also well known in the neighbourhood, entered the room, and advanced towards the traveller with apparent pleasure.
“Pierce Silverton, my dear fellow, how are you?” exclaimed Lindsey, taking the offered hand.
“Quite well, and you? It must be nearly a year since you were in this district,” returned the new comer.
“Nearly an age!” replied Lindsey impetuously; then suddenly changing his tone, he asked, almost in a nervous manner: “And Flora, how is she?”
“Very well; do you intend to see her?”
“Do I not? What else should bring me here?” cried Lindsey more impetuously than before.
“Take care what you are about. McAlpin is more irritated against you than ever.”
“Pshaw! The obstinate old fellow! What crotchet has he taken into his head now?”
“Nothing fresh that I hear of, but as his daughter will soon be of age. He is, perhaps, afraid that she may follow her own inclination.”
“She loves me still! Her father’s threats have had no effect on her? Tell me at once, Silverton.”
“At all events she has refused half a dozen offers; a circumstance that seems greatly to annoy McAlpin, for he swears she shall not have a farthing till his death. And you may be very certain he would not let her have any then if he could help it; though he cannot interfere with her mother’s property.”
“No, he can’t interfere with that, and he can’t live for ever,” said Lindsey quickly. Again changing his tone, he added, “not that I wish his death or her money; Flora would be a fortune in herself.”
“A fortune in a wife is better than a fortune with a wife. Eh?”
“Come Pierce, don’t give us any wise saws,” said Lindsey, interrupting his friend.
“Very well; then I suppose you find the arts a paying speculation?”
“No, faith; the time has not come for that. I’ll be bound to say that you make ten times more money as McAlpin’s agent, than I do as an artist, aye? Or than even Titian himself would do, could he be resuscitated and start on a fresh career in this part of the world. But I envy you your privilege of seeing Flora, far more than all your percentage on wool, your mining shares, or any other species of good luck.”
“You know I shall always be rejoiced to serve you, Lindsey; but come, these gentlemen will think that I am monopolising your company.”
The above conversation had taken place on the verandah, and the two friends now re-entered the supper-room where the remainder of the evening was passed amidst songs and jokes and general hilarity.
Certain individuals who pretended to be great physiognomists had occasionally remarked that Herbert Lindsey and his friend, Pierce Silverton, formed an admirable contrast to each other. As the former has already been described, we will briefly notice the general appearance of the latter, considered by some to be the handsomer man – and so he was, with regard to regularity of features, each of which bore a just proportion to the other. With some trifling exceptions those features might have been cast in the Greek mould; but a few trifling exceptions sometimes combine in making a great difference. The Greek forehead is certainly not high, but that of Pierce Silverton was, just a very little lower. His blue eyes were well shaped, but he had a habit of looking under his brows; a habit more frequent in women than in men – though not proud women, but those who affect to excite sympathy. His lips, the colour of pink coral, were rather contracted; and his teeth a bluish white, like those substituted by dentists who sometimes outdo nature. Altogether there was a consumptive look about the mouth, and the expression was imparted to the other features by a delicate complexion as well as by the habitual drooping attitude of the head.
All very different to that of Herbert Lindsey who, in this respect at least, had more of the ancient Greek, because – especially when he walked – his head was thrown proudly back.
Silverton’s hair was particularly beautiful – of a light brown, gently waving, and worn rather long. His nose was perfect, and his profile nearly so. What then prevented him from being a handsome man? There was a deficiency somewhere; and what it was we shall, perhaps, discover by and bye. His voice was gentle and low – not an excellent thing in man; whatever it may be in woman.
Pierce Silverton was not a great favourite. It is true that women are apt to take likes and dislikes; a habit that cannot be justified, as nobody ought to be liked or disliked till well known. So it may be inferred that women act without judgment, as animals do. A strange thing that women and animals should sometimes be right in their impulses, whilst men are wrong in their judgment!
Let it not be supposed, however, that Pierce Silverton was entirely discarded by the fair sex. On the contrary, several young ladies thought him a very interesting man; though upon the whole he was more appreciated by matrons who had daughters to marry – and in this he had decidedly the advantage of his friend. Pierce Silverton had, in a few years, amassed a competency, never got himself into a scrape and was generally patronised by the mammas.
Herbert Lindsey, meanwhile, had squandered a fortune in eighteen months, entangled himself in more than one political outbreak, had thrown away the chance of advancing his interests in a lucrative profession, and was not likely to be regarded with views matrimonial.
But as there is no rule without an exception, Herbert Lindsey had, in one instance, been accepted by a very charming matron as her daughter’s future husband, merely because that matron considered him to be an honourable, talented, energetic young man, who could make her child happy. Nearly four years had passed since that consent was given, and the gentle matron was now in her cold grave, but the compact,