"No," Mr. Atherton replied, absently watching the smoke of his cigar as it curled up, "nothing is at all settled; my plans seem to be quite vague now."
"What do you mean, Mr. Atherton?" Mrs. Renshaw asked in surprise, for Mr. Atherton's plans were generally mapped out very decidedly. "How is it that your plans are vague? I thought you said two days ago that you should go down to Wellington about the 20th."
"I did not mean to say that they were vague, Mrs. Renshaw; did I really say so?"
"Why, of course you did," Mrs. Renshaw said; "and it is not often that you are vague about anything."
"That shows that you do not understand my character, Mrs. Renshaw," Mr. Atherton said in his usual careless manner. "I am the vaguest of men—a child of chance, a leaf blown before the wind."
Wilfrid laughed. "It would have taken a very strong wind when we first knew you."
"I am speaking metaphorically, Wilfrid. I am at London, and the idea occurs to me to start for the Amazon and botanize there for a few months. I pack up and start the next morning. I get there and do not like the place, and say to myself it is too hot here, let me study the Arctic flora at Spitzbergen. If I act[Pg 341] upon an idea promptly, well and good, but if I allow any time to elapse between the idea striking me and my carrying the thing into execution, there is never any saying whether I may not go off in an entirely different groove during the interval."
"And is there any chance of your going off in any other groove now, Atherton?" Mr. Renshaw asked.
"No, I think not; just a remote possibility perhaps, but not more than that. It is so indefinitely small, indeed, that you may—yes, I think you may safely calculate upon my starting on the day I said, or if I find a ship at Wellington going on a trading excursion among the islands, or up to the Straits, or to Japan, I may likely enough take a passage in her."
"But I thought you said that your business required you to be at home, Mr. Atherton?"
"Yes, I suppose that is so, Wilfrid; but I daresay my solicitor would manage it just as well if I did not turn up. Solicitors are people who, as far as I can see, consider it their duty to bother you, but if they find that you pay no attention to their letters they manage somehow or other to get on very well without you. I believe they go into a court and make affidavits, and get an order authorizing them to sign for you. I do not know how it generally is done, but that is my experience of them so far."
Marion had said little that evening, and had indeed been very quiet for the last few days. She was somewhat indignant at Wilfrid's interference in what she considered her affairs, and felt that although her father and mother had said nothing, they too were somewhat disappointed, and would have been glad had she accepted Bob Allen. Besides she had reasons of her own for being out of spirits. After breakfast the next[Pg 342] morning Mr. Atherton said: "Marion, when you have finished your domestic duties and can be spared, suppose you put on your hat and come for a ramble with me."
There was nothing unusual in the request, for the girl often accompanied him in his rambles when he was not going far into the forest.
"I shall be ready in half an hour, if your highness can wait so long."
"I am in no hurry, child, and will smoke a pipe on the verandah until you are ready."
Marion always enjoyed these walks with Mr. Atherton. He was at all times a pleasant companion, and when alone with her always exerted himself to amuse her, though he sometimes vexed her by talking to her as if she were a child. To-day he was much more silent than usual, and more than once she looked up in wonder at his face as he walked along puffing at his pipe, with his hands deep in his jacket pockets and his eyes bent on the ground.
"A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Atherton," she said at last with a laugh. "It seems to me that you would have got on just as well without me."
"Well, I was just thinking that I was a fool to ask you to come with me, child." Marion opened her eyes in surprise. "You see, my dear," he went on, "we all make fools of ourselves sometimes. I started in life by making a fool of myself. I fell in love with a woman whom I thought perfection. She was an arrant flirt, and was only amusing herself with me till she hooked a young lord for whom she was angling. That was what sent me roaming for the first time; and, as you know, having once started I have kept it up ever since, that is till I came out here. I had[Pg 343] intended to stay six months; I have been here three years. Why have I stopped so long? Simply, child, because I have again made a fool of myself. I do not think I was conscious of it for the first two years, and it was only when I saw, as I thought, that young Allen would win you, that I recognized that I, a man of thirty-seven, was fool enough to love a child just eighteen years younger than myself. At the same time I was not fool enough to think that I had the smallest chance. I could not stop here and watch another winning you, and at the same time I was so weak that I could not go away altogether; and so you see I compromised matters by going away for weeks and sometimes months at a time, returning with the expectation each time of hearing that it was settled. Now I hear that you have refused him, and, just as a drowning man grasps at a straw, I resolved to have my fate absolutely settled before I sail. Don't be afraid of saying 'no,' dear. I have never for a moment looked for any other answer, but I think that I would rather have the 'no' than go away without it, for in after years I might be fool enough to come to think that possibly, just possibly, the answer, had I asked the question, might have been 'yes.'"
He had stopped in his walk when he began to speak, and stood facing Marion, who had not raised her eyes while he was speaking. Then she looked frankly up in his face.
"Do you think I did not know," she said softly, "and didn't you really know too? You are not so wise a man as I thought you. Why, ever since I have known you it seems to me that—that—"
"That you have loved me, Marion; is it possible?" he said taking her hand.[Pg 344]
"Of course it is possible," she said almost pettishly "how could I help it, I should like to know?"
Dinner had been waiting for some time before Mr. Atherton and his companion returned from their ramble.
"Twenty minutes late!" Wilfrid shouted as they approached the house; "have you been losing yourselves in the bush?"
"I think that it has been just the other way, Wilfrid," Mr. Atherton said as he came up to the group gathered in the verandah.
"How do you mean?" Wilfrid asked.
"I mean we have been finding each other."
"Finding each other," Wilfrid repeated vaguely. "Why, were you both lost?"
"I was, Wilfrid. Mrs. Renshaw, I have found your daughter, and am going, with your permission and that of her father, to keep her. I am a good bit older than she is, but as she says she does not mind that, I hope that you will not, and at least I can promise to do all in my power to make her happy."
"I am surprised, Mr. Atherton; surprised and glad too," Mrs. Renshaw said, while Mr. Renshaw grasped Mr. Atherton's hand and shook it heartily.
"My dear sir, there is no one in the world to whom I could intrust Marion's happiness so gladly and heartily. I own that it is a surprise to me, as well as to her mother, but we are both delighted at the choice she has made."
By this time Marion and her mother had gone indoors together. Wilfrid had not yet spoken, his surprise was still too great for words.
"Well, Wilfrid," Mr. Atherton said, turning to him, "I hope your disapproval of Marion's conduct on[Pg 345] this occasion is not so great as it was when you were talking to me yesterday."
"I hardly know what to say yet, you have taken me so by surprise; but I am awfully glad—you know that, don't you? There is no one in the world I should like Marion to marry so much, only somehow it never occurred to me."
"That is natural enough, Wilfrid. However, now that it has occurred to you, and you approve of it, we must hope that Marion will be restored to your good graces again."
"I have been making an ass of myself," Wilfrid said penitently; "but you believe that I am awfully glad, don't you? I was disappointed about Bob, but then, you see, I never thought about you. Why, you must know, Mr. Atherton, what I think of you and how I care for you, and how I look up to you. Somehow it never seemed possible to me that a man like you could fall in love."
"And much more improbable still, Wilfrid, that your sister would fall in love with me. I understand you, lad. We have been very close friends for the last three years, haven't we? I have been something like a very big and very old brother to you, and now we are going to be brothers in earnest;" and their hands closed in a grip that spoke volumes for the sincerity and depth of their feelings. Then Wilfrid ran into the house and threw his arms round his sister.
"I have been an awful fool, Marion," he said; "but you see, I never dreamt of this."
"And you are really pleased, Wilfrid?"
"Pleased! I am delighted. Why, you know, I think he is the finest fellow in the world; and has he not done everything for us, and stood by me and[Pg 346] nursed me, and carried me for miles, and saved mother's life and mine? But it never entered my mind that you had fallen in love with each other."
"I do not know why it shouldn't, Wilfrid. Why shouldn't I think as much of him as you do?"
"I do not know, I am sure, Marion; but I confess I never did think of it. Did you, mother?"
"Once or twice, Wilfrid. About a year ago it did cross my mind once or twice, but that was all. They say mothers are keen-sighted as far as their daughters are concerned; but either I am less keen-sighted than mothers in general, or Marion is deeper than other girls."
"Well, mother, we shall have lots of time to talk this over," Wilfrid said. "Dinner has been waiting nearly an hour, and even this wonderful business cannot have taken away all our appetites. Everything is ready; shall I call them in?" Wilfrid had, however, still a few minutes to wait, for the two men were engaged in earnest conversation outside.
When they came in at last Mr. Renshaw kissed his daughter fondly. "God bless you, my child!" he said. "You have made a wise choice indeed, and I am sure that you will be a very happy woman."
It was a quiet meal, for all were too happy to talk much. After it was over the two men strolled out together and renewed their conversation, and Mr. Renshaw presently called to his wife to join them. Marion had gone to her room, and Wilfrid was about to start to the other end of the farm when Mr. Atherton called him.
"Come and join our consultation, Wilfrid. You are as much concerned in it as any of us, and I rely upon your assistance to bring round these two very obsti[Pg 347]nate people to my side of the question. I should say our side, for of course Marion is one with me in the matter. You see, I am a rich man, Wilfrid—really a rich man, and I naturally wish that Marion should be made as happy as possible. I do not think she would be as happy as possible if she were in England with me, with a nice place in the country, and a town-house, and most things that money could bring her, if she knew that her father and mother were out here living a life which, although they have admirably adapted themselves to it, is yet very different to that to which they have been all their lives accustomed.
"Now, owing to this absurd freak of my aunt in making me her heir when my income was already five times as much as I could spend, I have the nuisance of a large landed estate on my hands. There is a large house upon it which I suppose Marion and I will have to occupy occasionally; and there is another house, which is known as the dower house, and which is a very snug and comfortable abode. Now, it is quite clear that I am the last sort of man to look after an estate. It would worry me most out of my mind, and would be a perpetual annoyance.
"What I propose is that your father and mother shall come home and take possession of the dower house, and that your father should act as my agent. Living on the spot, he would be able to keep an eye on the tenants, receive rents, and that sort of thing, and still be able to devote a considerable portion of his time to his favourite pursuits. I should have the advantage of having an agent I could absolutely rely upon, and Marion and I would have the comfort of having her father and mother close at hand. It would be a little lonely for you for a bit, Wilfrid; but you are nearly nineteen[Pg 348] now, and will, unless I am mistaken, ere many years have passed be bringing a mistress to The Glade. I fancy you go over to Mitford's a good deal oftener than there is any absolute occasion for, and although Kate is only sixteen yet, I have a shrewd suspicion that you have both pretty well made up your minds about the future."
Wilfrid coloured and laughed. "I don't know that we are as far advanced as that; but I do hope that some day it may be as you say. But about this other affair. What do my father and mother say? It seems to me it would be a splendid arrangement."
"Of course it would, Wilfrid; a splendid arrangement, for Marion and me especially. That is what I am trying to persuade them; but your mother has developed quite a new line of obstinacy, and your father is just as bad."
"Don't you see, Wilfrid," Mrs. Renshaw said with tears in her eyes, "it is only an excuse on Mr. Atherton's—"
"Harry, my dear madam, Harry," Mr. Atherton interrupted. "We have arranged it is to be Harry in future."
"On Harry's part," Mrs. Renshaw went on, "to provide an income for us."
"But I have got to provide an income for someone," Mr. Atherton said. "There must be an agent to look after the property for me; necessarily that agent must have a salary; and why in the name of good sense should not your husband be that agent as well as anyone else?"
"But you are offering a great deal too high a salary," Mr. Renshaw urged. "You could get an excellent agent for less than half the sum you are talking about."[Pg 349]
"Not at all," Mr. Atherton replied; "I must have a gentleman, both for my own sake and that of the tenants, and to get a gentleman of high character and perfectly trustworthy, I must necessarily pay him a good salary. I shall be a good deal in town, and my representative must therefore be able to occupy a good position in the county; besides, as I have told you, my income now, with this absurd addition, amounts to something like six thousand a year. Why, in the name of goodness, should I not be allowed, if I choose, to pay two or three hundred a year over market price to my agent when it will afford my wife the gratification of having her parents near her, and me the pleasure of having two dear friends as my next neighbours. Besides, The Glade will not be a bit too large for you when you marry, Wilfrid, and in that case either you will have to start in a fresh place and begin all your work over again, or your father would have to turn out to make room for you. I consider it preposterous. What do you say, Wilfrid?"
"I do think it would be a splendid arrangement, mother," Wilfrid answered. "You know well enough that I shall be very sorry to lose you and father; but it would be awfully nice for Marion, and I do think that though, as Mr. Atherton says, you and father have fallen in splendidly with your life here, the other would be in every way better suited to you. I can understand your feelings in the matter; but the same time I think that after Mr. Atherton having saved your life and mine, his feelings and wishes should influence you very much."
"If you hesitate any longer," Mr. Atherton said, "I shall go in and fetch Marion out. I have not told her about my plan yet, for in fact we had other things to[Pg 350] talk about; but when I tell her, and she adds her voice to ours, I am sure you will not be able to refuse any longer."
Mrs. Renshaw exchanged a look with her husband. "It is not necessary," she said in a broken voice. "We accept, Harry."
"That is right," Mr. Atherton said as he wrung Mr. Renshaw's hand warmly, and then affectionately kissed Mrs. Renshaw. "Now we are going to be a very happy and united family. Now, go in and tell Marion."
"Tell her yourself," Mrs. Renshaw smiled, wiping her eyes; and Mr. Atherton took his way to the house.
Marion was indeed delighted with the news. The thought of leaving her mother and father behind had been the one drawback to her happiness. She had been her mother's right hand and her father's companion. She had thought how terribly they would miss her, and how, as years went on, they would, far more than now, feel the difference between their present life and that they had formerly led. The news that they would be always near her and settled in a comfortable home filled her with delight. A few minutes after Mr. Atherton entered the house she ran out to her father and mother and threw her arms fondly around them. "Is it not happiness, mother," she cried, "to think that we shall still be together?"
"If you are not a happy woman, child, it will be your own fault," her father said. "I consider you a marvellously lucky girl."
"As if I did not know that!" she replied, laughing through her tears.
Mr. Atherton did not sail quite so soon as he had intended. A church had recently been erected at the central settlement, and a clergyman established there,[Pg 351] and a month after matters were settled between him and Marion their wedding was celebrated, almost every settler on the Mohaka being present. The newly-married couple returned to The Glade for a week, Mr. and Mrs. Renshaw and Wilfrid remaining as the guests of Mr. Mitford. At the end of that time they returned, and with Mr. and Mrs. Renshaw sailed for Napier, where they took ship for England.
"What would you have done if I had sailed away for England without ever mustering up courage to speak to you, Marion?" Mr. Atherton said as he stood by the bulwark with her that evening taking their last look at New Zealand.
"I should not have let you go, sir," his wife said saucily; "didn't I know that you cared for me, and had I not refused all sorts of offers for your sake? I don't know what I should have done, or what I should have said, but I am quite sure I should not have let you go unless I found that I had been making a mistake all along. It would have been ridiculous indeed to have sacrificed the happiness of two lives merely because you had some absurd ideas about your age."
"I never thought you cared for me, Marion, never."
"That is because you never took the trouble to find out," his wife retorted. "Men are foolish creatures sometimes, even the wisest of them."
Marion Atherton's life was one of almost perfect happiness. Mr. Atherton entirely gave up his wanderings abroad, and by dint of devotion to racquets and tennis in summer, and of hunting and shooting in winter, he kept down his tendency towards corpulence. He was an energetic magistrate, and one of the most popular men in the county. Mr. Renshaw resumed his[Pg 352] former studies in arch?ology, but they were now the amusement instead of being the object of his life, and he made an excellent agent to his son-in-law. Standing in the relation he did to Mr. and Mrs. Atherton, he and Mrs. Renshaw shared in their popularity, and occupied a good position in the county.