An Australian Duchess

Front matter

■ ■ I I ■ ■ ■ ■ I NEW NOVELS AT ALL THE LIBEARIES. GENTLEMAN GEORGE, A Story without a Heroine. By Mrs. Herbert Martin, Author of 'Britomart,' &c. 1vol. 6s. BLIND BATS. By MAKGAKET B. CROSS, Author of 'Stolen Honey,' 'The Saffron Robe,' 'Newly Fashioned,' &c. 1 voL 6s. THE YOKE OF STEEL. By C. J. WILLS, Author of ' The Pit Town Coronet,' 'An Easy-Going Fellow,' So.; and GODFREY BURCHETT, Author of ' Dominic Penterne,' ' One of the Wicked,' &c 1 vol. Cs. OF THE DEEPEST DYE. By COLONEL CUTHBERT LARKING, Author of 'With Everything Against Her,' &c. 1 voL 6s. A LEDDY IN HER AIN RICHT. By Mrs. TOM KELLY, Author of ' Time and Chance.' With Frontispiece. 1 vol. 6s. AFTER LONG WAITING. By JESSIE L. NICHOLSON, Author of "Twixt Will and Will Not' 2 vols. LONDON: HURST _ BLACKETT, LIMITED. BY AMYOT SAGON AL'THOR OF 'A FAIR PALMIST.' IN ONE VOLUME. LONDON : HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1897. All Rights Reserved.

Chapter I

It was only a bush inn, but, to one at least of the two men who were approaching, it appeared the goal of all his hopes, the heaven where the joys of rest and. plenty awaited him. They dismounted from their weary horses, and, with the humanity and prudence begotten of much experience, took them to the stable and attend ed to their wants before thinking of their own, then entered the low general room, and were soon eating the best and most plentiful meal they had had for days. This necessary work over, they stretched themselves with a delicious sense of comfort on their blankets in front of the lire, with their pipes well alight, and felt B all the pleasure that hardships and privations braved and over make so keen. ' Pretty stiff, Wynd, I expect. You have had a tidy bit of riding for a new hand, and find the saddle ain't as soft as cotton-wool, eh?' ' "Well, yes, I do feel rather more as if I was made of wood than flesh and blood, but I ex pect it will be worse to-morrow.

Still, I think I can stand the riding better than the starving. I was never so hungry in my life !' The elder man smiled grimly. ' You ain't gone on short commons much, then. Why, we only ate our last bit of damper nine hours ago, and both had water in our billies ! Why, man, I have been bushed for four days without a bite, and no water after the first two. Guess that would try your metal?' ' It might, but while I can get enough to eat, I shan't try to starve down to that. But it is almost worth while being as tired, to feel so comfortable.' 'Yes, you'll sleep without rocking;' and, almost as the elder man ceased speaking, he saw by the regular breathing of his companion that he was already asleep. The room was nearly dark, but the fire-light lit up the form of the younger man as he lay stretched out in the dreamless sleep of ex haustion.

He had a strong, good face, rather stern, but not hard in its perfect repose, weather-beaten and tanned, a heavy dark moustache and a two weeks' beard shading the lower part. His limbs were well-knit and powerful. Altogether the making of a man, who by his own indomitable will and strength would carve his way to fortune. The elder was a wiry, spare man, with a face thin and worn by hardships and exposure ; a man who had seen some fifty years of a life which had been a hard fight with the roughest odds, but who was not beaten yet, and would hardly know it if he were. He glanced from time to time at the younger man and muttered between his puffs of smoke, ' Not a bad chum for a young 'un, and pretty tough for a new-comer. Wonder what bad wind blew him here. He can ride a bit, so b mayhap 'twas the horses.' But even his hardened frame could resist no longer the influence of warmth and satiety after fatigue and hunger, and he, too, fell asleep.

It seemed to the younger man as if he had but just closed his eyes, when the sound of loud voices and the tramp of many feet aroused him, and he found the room full of men. He shook himself free from his blanket and rose as he heard his last night's companion, Silas West, exclaim, ' What, Ned Lawson, Widow Lawson's son lost? Indeed and you are right, I and every other man will join in the search! But how did it happen ? He knows the bush about here as well as I do !' ' No one knows. He had been away a day riding round his bounds, so when he didn't return his mother wasn't surprised, he often stops away a day or more. There's a goodish bit to get round. But on the morning of the third day his mare, Nelly, came trotting up to the stable fencing, regular done, having come a long way. Well, this naturally startled the old lady.

She got all the hands she could together. and sent them out. For twenty miles round they couldn't find him. So they sent on to us, and we have been beating round all the scrub to the west ; the mare came from that direction.' ' I expect,' said another of the men, ' he had had a drop too much, and a limb of a tree knocked him out of the saddle.' ' He's had an accident, but nothing to do with drink ; I'd lay a lot,' said West. ' Ned Lawson wasn't the man to drink. But it's fairly light now. I'll see how the horses are, then the sooner we're off the better;' and West went out. As he returned he met Wynd, ' Oh, you are awake ?' he said. ' Yes, and I want to go with you, if my horse is fit.' ' Fit enough ! a good feed and bed soon puts a station horse right ; they ain't used to pamper ing. Have something to eat before we start, and take more with you, we may have to go far.' They found the others laying in stores, and were all quickly in the saddle.

West pointed out the line he and his com panion had taken the day before. ' He's not there !' he said, 'but we had better scatter and work in a circle. You to the right ride on to the water-course, and we will spread out to the gully westward. Then let's work round that bit of thick scrub, and meet by the big gum-tree by Blue Creek. That'll fetch a big bit of country.' The men agreed. Silas West's knowledge as a bushman was justly respected. It was not easy riding, and Wynd, stiff with previous days in the saddle, found it especially hard. The horse he rode knew well how to take care of himself in the timber, but still his rider was often almost lying flat on his neck to escape a low-reaching bough, or clinging to one side of his mount to avoid the thick thorny branches of the undergrowth.

He had been riding some hours, when the timber became thinner, and at last glancing forward he saw an open glade, but between him and the clearing a large tree interposed its branches, and hanging beneath it against the clear sky beyond was a strange shape, which even at that distance looked wonderfully like a man's form. He urged on his flagging horse and was soon beneath the tree. He turned sick when, on nearer view, he saw it was the body of a man. A jagged, broken limb of the tree had evidently caught him in the left breast, a little beneath the collar-bone, and penetrated the chest; part of the sharp end protruded from the back of the wretched man, whose contorted face and clenched hands showed the agony he must have endured, before death released him from this slow and painful martyrdom.

Eric Wynd sat gazing at this fearful sight, too dazed and horrified at first to think. His horse, unheeded by its rider, pulled the loosened reins from his nerveless fingers, and nibbled the fresh, green turf with calm enjoyment. Then like a flash of lightning came the thought — this must surely be the missing man. Was he dead? He sprang from his saddle and touched the hands — they were cold as ice ; he tried to lift the body from the branch — it was impossible unaided. Then he remembered West's in structions, that anyone coming on traces of the missing man was to coo-ee three distinct times. The loud, far-reaching notes of the bushman's call resounded through the perfect silence of the scrub, and with feverish impatience Wynd waited for some response. At last he heard it — distant and indistinct at first, but getting clearer every instant— and then saw West's lean figure riding towards him from the other side of the clearing.

He was quickly at his side. ' Ned Lawson, by — ' he exclaimed, as his glance fell on the hanging body. ' Dead, I fear,' said Wynd. ' I tried to move his body but could not.' ' Dead ? Yes, some twenty-four hours ! But Lord ! how hard he died. See, his nails are driven right into the flesh. Here, raise him a bit, while I push the body off the branch !' And without dismounting West eased the body off the branch as Wynd supported it from the ground. At length with much trouble they laid it on the turf. Silas West after a moment's inspection rose from his knees. ' Yes,' he said, ' been dead some time — but how long he must have lived hanging there, I can't say.' ' I hope he died at once,' said Wynd. 'Not he ! but we must get the boys together !' Again the cry sounded in the silence, it was shortly responded to from several quarters, and most of the men were soon assembled round the object of their search. ' One of you ride on to Blue Creek and tell the others,' said West.

The sad party retraced their steps ; the body laid across one of the horses — the face, al ready disfigured by flies, covered reverently. ' You think he must have been hours dying, Jefferson?' asked West, when they had been riding for some time in silence. ' Yes, the limb hadn't touched any vital part. A man spitted like that, would die from ex haustion, not from the wound.' ' Poor chap ! and he such a good son to his mother !' said Silas. ' Ay,' answered a dark-faced, hard-looking man, who had not spoken before. ' Honour thy father and thy mother, and thy days shall be long in the land — but the Bible was written and finished before folk knew of Australia, so I suppose we ain't in the reckoning?' ' In the land which the Lord thy God shall give thee,' muttered West. ' Well, p'raps that means some other land !' ' More like the promise is waste paper,' said the cynic.

It was dark when the wearied men and horses returned to the inn where Wynd and West had passed the previous night. A rough coffin was made by his friends, and all that remained of poor Ned Lawson was carried to his mother and laid in a roughly dug grave in the land he had tilled and sowed with so many bright hopes for the future. West and Wynd went on to join their fellow stockmen at the great cattle muster, whither they had been trending when bushed. Silas glanced at his companion who rode on silently. ' Seeing something of real bush life now, eh ?' he asked at length. ' Yes, tragedy is not confined to the Old Country,' said Wynd ; ' but out here it seems to touch one more.' ' That man's fate may be yours or mine any day ! With this difference, no mother would make moan over me.' It was a strange scene Wynd witnessed at the big cattle muster, and to him, as a stranger and a novice, it presented many interesting features.

The immense herd of cattle, number ing several thousand head, running hither and thither as the stockmen with their long thong ed whips tried to divide the differently branded beasts. The wonderful horsemanship awoke his admiration, for firmness of seat and greatest skill was displayed in riding to head the cattle and to keep on the back of animals rendered almost unmanageable by terror caused by con stantly evaded onslaughts of half-mad bulls. Among fifty or more men, Avho attracted his attention, his admiration was chiefly aroused by a young lad, whose slight figure was here, there, and everywhere — showing mar vellous dexterity and coolness both in the use of his whip and the management of his horse. After much exertion the animals were separ ated into the different herds of their respec tive owners, and the men assembled to eat a well-earned meal before starting for their own station, or the town to which the animals were to be drafted.

Wynd, seeing the boy he had been watching take up a position rather apart from the others, joined him, and opened his provisions with an appetite of keen appreciation. He was astonished to see how good-looking, and, at the same time, how refined the young horseman was. ' You ride well,' he said, in the easy tone of equality he was learning to use to every one he met. ' Well, I ought to,' said the boy, with a smile. ' You have had some practice ?' ' Since I was a baby — I have spent nearly half my time in the saddle.' 'Are you an Australian?' he asked, as tonished. ' Born and bred. Don't I look it ?' ' In dress, yes — but you speak like — well, like an Englishman.' ' Do I ? Well, that isn't saying much, judging from some I meet,' he answered, laughing. While they had been talking, a big, rather handsome, but evil-looking young fellow had lounged up to them, and with an attempt at easy friendship, said, ' Here, Lady-bird, let us drink to the health of the new chum — who is he ?' and he handed his billy to the boy. ' Thank you,' the lad said, rather haughtily Wynd thought. ' I never drink whisky — ' and rising — ' I must be going, my men have all they know to keep our cattle together, our herd is so large.' ' Ay,' answered the man, whose face had grown black at the boy's refusal. ' Like old Ben's luck — the devil will help his own !' The boy flushed angrily, but moved off to his horse, which was grazing near.

The man followed, and Wynd heard him say, ' I'll have a parting salute from the Ladybird ;' and, as the boy was about to mount, he caught him round the waist. Quick as thought the boy twisted himself free, jumped on to his horse, and, seizing the whip that hung at his saddle-bow, he caught the fellow's collar with his left hand, and, with a dexterity born of long practice, brought the whistling lash again and again across the man's body and face; then, tired, he flung him bleeding and blinded from him, exclaiming as he looked with flashing ■eyes at the other men, who had risen and were standing round, ' Dare to touch me any of you again, and you know what you may expect !' He turned his horse and rode off to the biffsest of the herds, and was soon lost to sight in the dust raised by the moving cattle. ' Bravo, Ladybird !' cried Silas West, ' you have given the best thrashing to the biggest blackguard in New South Wales !

How the lash curled round him and cut up his wicked face ;' and he laughed, as turning round he asked, ' Where's the mean cur gone?' ' Oh, he sneaked off directly she let him go. He'll keep himself scarce, you bet ! If old Ben Lester knew he had touched one of his lassies, he wouldn't have a whole bone left.' Wynd had listened in some perplexity to this conversation, but West called to him. ' Come, Wynd, we must get away with those beasts if we are to get down to Sydney within the week.' They were soon in the saddle, and with two other stockmen were driving the fattest of the stock belonging to their station off to the town. Riding a little to the windward of the cattle, Wynd, who at first had been almost choked with the dust, began to question West. ' What did that fellow mean when he said old Ben Lester would break the man's bones for touching his lassies ?

What had it to do with that plucky lad?' Silas West laughed. ' That plucky lad is one of old Ben's lassies. Rides prettily, don't she?' ' Do you mean to say that boy is a girl?' ' Just so. You see old Ben wanted a son, but he only had daughters, five of them, not much use on a station like his ; he said his girls ought to have been boys, and must be, so he clapped them on a horse before they were any size, and there ain't finer stockmen in Australia than those lassies.' ' They ride about and do men's work ?' asked Wynd, rather startled by this new view of colonial life. ' Rather, and well they do it.' ' It must be rather hard on them ; and she spoke with such a different accent to the others out here — it seems very odd.' ' Well, now, of course they have men to do the roughest work. Old Ben is a warm man, you may be certain, but his wife, Mrs. Lester, is a reg'lar lady.

He brought her from Syd ney, and there's breed all over her. I have heard she teaches those gals a lot of things station gals don't often know, and, though they wear breeches and boots in the saddle, they dress in pretty enough things at home. I had to see old Ben on business ; he warn't at home, but Mrs. Lester would have me in. I had come a goodish way — and I had supper with them. It's only a log-house outside, but inside it's pretty enough. Seemed to me all cushions and things about, bright and pretty — flowers were on the table, and everywhere — and there were the five lassies in pretty cotton frocks, their hair all done right, looking as if they had never crossed a horse, and real friendly, too — for, mind you, though they keep away from the rough 'uns, they don't give themselves airs.

But I tell you, I used to know a lady when I saw her, and when I had supper in Ben Lester's house, I know I sat down with one of the truest. And the young lassies will be more like her, I reckon, than their father.' ' Do they live far from here ?' ' Not far, a matter of twenty to thirty miles. We may catch a glimpse of the house, it stands fairly high, and old Ben has been clearing the timber. Confound those beasts ! they'll never cross that gully if they aren't hurried a bit. You ride on smartly to Luke, and tell him to drive them hard, they won't take the water if they aren't sent down a steepish bank.' All the men were soon hard at work getting the beasts over the stream. Some hours later, when it was getting dark, Silas West decided to camp for the night. After their supper, he offered to keep first watch, and the tired men were soon fast asleep, West alone remaining awake, his horse ready saddled in case the cattle gave any evidence of a desire to stampede.

Wynd had been sleeping the deep sleep that an open-air life and plenty of exercise ever bring, as compensation for other privations, c when he was shaken'violently, and West's voice sounded harshly in his ears. ' Get up, Wynd, and saddle up, those blarmed beasts have broken camp and stampeded ! You ride out northward, and try and turn them. Don't spare your horse !' He sprang on his own as he spoke, and dashed off into the darkness scattering the ashes of the camp-fire in all directions. Wynd was in the saddle all the more quickly that he saw both the other men had disappeared, and rode off at a gallop in the direction West had indicated. The night was as black as pitch. After galloping some time, he pulled up to listen if he could hear any noise to guide him. At first all seemed as silent as death, but at last he fancied he heard the dull thud of many hoofs away to the right.

He started off again, at full speed. The country was open, the horse bounded over the springy turf — the night wind whistling past him. Suddenly his horse seemed flying in the air, then they were falling down, down with sickening rapidity ! Had he rushed over a gully in the darkness ? The thought had barely formed itself in his mind, when there was a crash, a terrible jar, and he knew no more. c

Chapter II

The sound of a woman's sweet voice singing, the responsive notes of a bird, and the scent of flowers were the first impressions of which Wynd was conscious. With a strange feeling of rest and contentment he lay still, his eyes closed, enjoying passively his return to life. The voice ceased a moment, only to begin again some new, soft melody. Then he opened his eyes. The room was in a pleasant half light, though through the open window, beyond the shadow of the verandah, the world was bathed in sunlight. Kneeling by it, and tending the flowers with which it was crowded, was the slight figure of a young girl, Avhose fresh voice broke the silence and awakened soft echoes from the canary swinging in its cage above her. Presently, her task apparently finished, she rose from her knees, and stood playing with the bird, then turning softly approached the bed.

The young man watched her, but she, dazzled at first by the brighter light at the window, could not see him, and came close to bed before she noticed that his eyes were open, and her own smiled into his, as in a gentle voice with a ring of genuine pleasure in it she said, ' Ah ! You are awake. And I am sure you are better!' ' I suppose I am — but I did not know I had been ill,' he answered, smiling. ' How did I come here ?' he asked. ' You have been dreadfully ill — but I don't think you ought to talk. I will tell mother you are awake, she did not think you would be yet;' and the girl left the room. Wynd felt vaguely disappointed ; then in a lazy way he wondered where he could be, and why the girl's face seemed so familiar. The faint rustle of a woman's dress made him turn his head, and he met the eyes of a sweet, motherly woman, who had entered the room. ' Frank told me you were awake ?

I hope you are better.' ' I think so ; but have I been long ill ?' ' A month.' ' A month! What Avas the matter Avith me ?' ' You rode over a gully in the dark — and you were terribly crushed and hurt. Your horse Avas killed. How you escaped death Ave cannot understand. Silas West found you when it AATas light, and seeing how seriously you were in jured brought you here, as it was the nearest house. Fortunately a doctor had stayed the night Avith us, or I don't think AA'e could have cured you.' ' Have I been here a Avhole month ? How very good it is of you to nurse a complete stranger like this.' ' What else should Ave do ? Here, Avhere the stations are many miles apart, everyone ex pects his house to be an inn for those traA'elling, a hospital for the sick. We all benefit in turn. Besides, I do not consider any Englishman a stranger — I am a Englishwoman, and ah\Tays feel so sorry for any fresh exile from the land I shall ever feel is home.' As she seated herself at his side Wynd looked at her.

Her face Avas beautiful, full of Avomanly tenderness and love, yet strong with character. An expression of sadness passed over it as she spoke, but as her eyes met his, their ready smile chased aAvay the sadness. ' I must not talk to you too much yet. You will have plenty of time to hear any neAvs you may Arish to.' ' Has West returned from Sydney yet?' ' Oh, yes, more than a Aveek ago. He asked at the post-office if there were any letters for you — but there Avere none. He was A'ery sorry not to speak to you, but you Avere still unconscious.' ' No letters ! there ought to have been.' ' You may get them by the next mail. My husband will be going into Sydney and Avill ask for them. But here conies Frank Avith some soup. You must drink it and then try and sleep again.' The same young girl entered and stood by the bed holding a small tray, Avith spotless Avhite cloth and a small vase of beautiful, scented flowers by the basin of hot soup.

Wynd tried to rise, but Mrs. Lester said, hastily, ' No, you must not move.' She deftly put her arm behind his pilloAvs and gradually raised him up, and stood sup porting him while Frank held the basin to his lips, for he AAras horrified to find he could not lift even its light Aveight. As Mrs. Lester gently lowered the pillows again he said gratefully, but rather ashamed, ' Thank you so much. What a dreadful trouble I must be to you.' ' 1 ndeed you are not, I am a. ATery good nurse and delight in nursing.' With gentle hands she smoothed his pillows and the tumbled bed-clothes, and turning to her daughter, asked, ' Have Madge and Lesley come in yet?' ' No, but I think that is father coming ;' and she pointed to a horseman approaching the house. Mrs. Lester Avent to the window. ' Yes, you are right' Then turning to Wynd she said, 'My husband has been aAvay a week, and I ahvays like to be ready to meet him the moment he returns, so I shall leave you noAV to my daughter's care.

She is a very good nurse, but if you can sleep it will be much the best for you ;' and Avith a friendly smile she left the room. Frank came to the bed-side, and met the inquiring glance of the young man. ' Would you like the blind quite down ?' she asked. ' Oh, no, thank you, the room is beautifully cool and shady. I Avonder hoAv it is I feel as if your face Avas so familiar to me, and yet I can never have seen you before.' ' Oh, yes, you have, though you don't remember Avhere;' and she laughed. ' I am sure I should not forget it, if I had. Was it in England ?' Wynd asked, as he put his hand to his head to try and make his dull, throbbing brain recall the past. ' Oh, no, I Avas never in England, but don't try to think, it Avill make your headache,' she cried, impulsively. ' You remember the big cattle muster ?

You saAv me there.' ' Were you . . . ? You thrashed that brute ? Why didn't you leave him to me ?' exclaimed Wynd, indignation flashing from his eyes at the remembrance. ' What nonsense, — as if a woman who can use a stock-whip as effectively as I can needed a champion to fight her battles. No, we have passed the days of romance, the Bayards and Don Quixotes are extinct, and so Ave Avomen have learned to take the redress of our wrongs into our oaati hands.' ' Are you not a little hard on the men of to-day? The damosels of old did not indulge in masquerade, so Avhen they were in distress, a true-hearted knight immediately kneAv the true state of affairs, Avhile . . . .' j ' Fairly answered,' she said, but blushed a little. ' Of course, a man fresh from Eng land, AA'ith all the old Avorld prejudices and ideas, Avould never expect to find a Avoman in such a position.' ' I don't knoAV, many of my country-Avomen are now riding bicycles in appropriate costume.' 'And you don't admire them?' the girl asked. ' They do it from choice, not necessity or for any good object,' Wynd answered, quietly.

The girl remained silent, and the bird broke out into a burst of song as if delighted to have two listeners. Frank rose. ' I Avill cover him up. You Avill never sleep Avhile he sings like that.' ' Please don't, I like it. You Avere singing Avhen I woke up.' ' I am sorry I aAvoke you. I forget, and have a habit of singing Avhen I am happy.' ' I don't think it roused me ; in fact, it had a most soothing effect, and AArould, I belieATe, make me sleep noAV.' ' Does that mean you Avish me to sing?' the girl asked, in her direct Avay, her earnest eyes raised to his. ' I should like you to, if it Avould not tire you!' ' Oh, I don't sing properly, so never get tired, I sing just Avhen I feel inclined.' ' And do you now?' asked Wynd, anxiously. ' Not particularly,' she said, smiling, ' but I AA'ant you to go to sleep, so I AA'ill.' ' Please don't do it only to please me !' said Wynd, hastily. ' If you A._sh me to go to sleep I Avill try to do so.