Outlaw and Lawmaker/Chapter 17
CHAPTER XVII.
IN THE LADIES' GALLERY.
The Ladies' Gallery was crowded. It had been set about that Blake was an orator, that his speech would be a stirring one, and already the picturesque personality of the man had impressed Leichardt's Town society. Besides this, it was known that Frank Hallett would move the Address, and people were interested in Frank Hallett as a coming minister.
There is no tiresome grating in front of the Ladies' Gallery in Colonial Houses of Parliament, and any member who chose to look up might have easily recognized the stolid features of Lady Garfit and the placid pink and white prettiness of her daughter, and just behind, they might have seen Ina Gage's delicate, rather pensive face, Miss Minnie Pryde's black eyes and brunette complexion, and Elsie Valliant's more distinguished beauty. Both Blake and Frank Hallett did look up, and Elsie noted the different bearing of the two men, each of whom was to make his maiden effort in that assembly. Frank was evidently nervous-grave, absorbed, and hiding embarrassment under a mask of reserve. Blake was indifferent, unconcerned, always giving a sense of latent power, always with a certain kingliness of bearing, and at the same time a certain dare-devilry of which Elsie was keenly conscious. It seemed to her that his eyes sought hers, and that his face changed ever so slightly when their glances met. Her heart was beating strangely. She gave a violent start when Frank Hallett's voice sounded behind her.
"Are you quite comfortable?" he asked.
"Yes, quite, thank you," she answered.
"I am afraid you find it rather dull up here," he said, " and it will be a few minutes yet before we get to my part of the business."
"You are looking rather pale. Are you nervous?"
"Horribly nervous. I am sick with nervousness."
"But that won't last."
"No," he said, "once I begin I shall get on well enough. It's the interval of waiting that sets my nerves going. It's like lying in the trenches, you know, before the enemy have come up. Now I must get back to my place."
He ran downstairs. He had hardly settled into his place when the Speaker began to read the speech which the Governor had delivered that morning. The instant the reading was done Hallett got on his legs and set himself to his task of moving the reply to the Address. Elsie went through a moment of breathless anxiety while he was standing, waiting before he spoke, and then she heard his voice, and felt reassured. After a minute or two of nervousness Hallett went on with his speech composedly and well. Elsie did not care very much about the substance of the speech, but it seemed to her to be well composed, and was delivered with the fluency which only just stopped short of being monotonous. It went over a great variety of topics to which she paid little attention, but she could hear that it was received with great favour on Hallett's side of the house, and with respectful attention on the other. She was glad to find that there were no ironical cheers or bursts of interruption, not, perhaps, quite realizing that a speech which escapes from these tributes of opposition is seldom a speech likely to make a name for the orator.
Hallett sat down amid very cordial applause from the house in general. She could see that. Everyone was glad to find the young man doing well in his first attempt, and she felt all but delighted at the result. He had certainly not failed. On the contrary, he had evidently succeeded. It was exactly what she had expected of him, and she was content with him. Perhaps she could have wished for something a little more dazzling, something thrilling, like that speech she had heard from the verandah of the hotel at Goondi, of which she had been able to catch only the voice, not the words. But still to wish that Hallett had been dazzling would be to wish that Hallett were not Hallett, only somebody else.
Then a rough and mumbling voice was heard, and she became aware that somebody was seconding Hallett's motion. This was a poor and scrambling performance, and had only the merit of being quickly done. Then the Speaker put the question, and then the Leader of the Opposition spoke.
Mr. Torbolton made a severe attack on the policy of the Government on all its lines. The girl could recognize by the sound and movement of the house that the attack was a heavy one, and told severely. Then there was a reply from the Ministerial side, delivered by Mr. Leeke, the Minister of Mines, into whose shoes it was said Frank Hallett was to step, and she was getting into rather a drowsy condition when suddenly the Ministerial speech came to an end, and in an instant she heard again the voice that had thrilled her at Goondi. She saw that a new speaker had arisen from the Opposition side, and bending eagerly forward she recognized the face and figure of Blake, and in another five minutes the girl had learned for the first time in her life the difference between a born debater and a man who makes a good speech. Blake's voice sometimes fell to such subtle modulations that it seemed to caress the listening ear, and at other times rang out with the vibrating strength of passion, or hissed with the scornful tone of sarcasm. The assembly which had listened with such patient approval to Hallett went wild over Blake. From the Ministerial side there came angry interruptions and contradictions. From the bench of the Opposition came bursts of enthusiastic cheers and shouts of delighted laughter. She hardly knew what it was all about, but she knew well enough that it was a vivid and pitiless attack upon the policy of the Government, and that the Ministers seemed to quail under its effect.
Some member standing in the Ladies' Gallery said to Lady Horace when Blake sat down, "Well, now, Lady Horace, whether we like it or whether we don't, I think we must call that a great speech."
Sir James Garfit rose at once, thus paying the quite unusual tribute to Mr. Blake's speech by rising at that period of the evening to reply to a new member. When the Premier began his speech, Elsie's interest in the debate collapsed.
Lord Horace, who was in the men's gallery, separated from that in which his wife and Elsie sat, leaned excitedly over the railing.
"I say, Elsie, Blake's stunnin'. I wish it was our man. In the face of that there's no use in consoling ourselves with the reflection that dear Frank is safe and respectable."
A little later Elsie knew almost without turning round that Blake had come into the gallery and was behind her. She turned to him in her quick, impulsive way, and said, "Oh, why didn't you tell me you could speak like that?"
"Did I do it well, really?"
"Yes, splendidly," she said. "The House felt it. I never heard a real speech before."
"I'm glad of that," he said, quietly bending over her—"glad, that is, that you were pleased. I wanted to please you."
There was a short interval, in which the House emptied, and the party in the Ladies' Gallery went out and snatched a short dinner at an hotel not far off. After they came back the debate droned dully on. Blake came up again, and lingered in the gallery. Most of the time he talked in whispers to Elsie, and more than once Lady Garfit turned angrily and frowned on him.
It was now nine o'clock.
"I am sorry," said Blake, "that there is no terrace here, where I can ask you to come and have coffee."
"No terrace?" repeated Ina, vaguely.
Lord Horace, who had caught the remark, looked annoyed. "Blake means the terrace of the House of Commons. Don't ask Waveryng what it means, or he will think I have married a"
"An Australian girl, who doesn't know anything about your fashionable London life," put in Elsie hotly. "You had better prepare Lord and Lady Waveryng, Horace, for the depth of barbarism they'll be plunged in here, otherwise they mightn't survive the shock of an introduction to Ina and me."
"When do the Waveryngs arrive?" asked Blake.
"Lady Stukeley told me at the Opening to-day that she had heard from my sister, and that they would very likely be here for the May ball. They are going to stay at Government House," said Lord Horace, a little sulkily. He was annoyed because Lady Stukeley had not taken quite kindly to Ina, and that was Elsie's fault, for Lady Garfit had prejudiced the lady of Government House against these forward Australian belles.
Elsie got up. At that moment Frank Hallett entered the gallery. She turned to him. "What is going to happen? I am tired, I want to get back; Ina is tired, too. If Horace likes to stay, I daresay somebody will see us across the river."
"I wish I could," exclaimed Hallett, "but Leeke is going to speak; I ought not to leave the House."
"Since I am not so anxious to hear Mr. Leeke, Lady Horace, please let me take you to Fermoy's," said Blake.
Lord Horace announced his intention of going to the club. It was Frank Hallett who escorted Ina down the stairs. She turned her pale face to his with a sisterly smile. "Frank, I haven't had an opportunity of saying a word. You did speak splendidly."
"Thank you, Ina; you don't mind my calling you Ina just once, do you ? I feel horribly down to-night. I'm nowhere beside Blake. He is the coming man."
"Is it Elsie who has vexed you, Frank?"
"Oh, no; not Elsie, not at least any more than usual. But she has altered somehow lately. Don't you see it?"
"Yes, I see it. But Elsie was always capricious."
"You know I care for Elsie more than for anyone in this world, Ina."
"Yes, I know that."
"I'm not jealous of Blake—not in the ordinary way. I have been keeping myself a little aloof from Elsie lately on purpose. She has given me her promise that if her prince, as she puts it, doesn't come along within a year, she will marry me"
"Ah! Elsie's prince!" Ina laughed nervously.
"Ina, a horrible fear has struck me these last days. Suppose that Blake should turn out to be Elsie's prince?"
"Oh! no, no," Ina cried. "I cannot bear that man. There's something about him; I can't describe the feeling he gives me. He is not true."
"He is good looking, and he is a gentleman; and I believe, judging from his speech to-night, and the effect it has had, that he will very soon make a mark. I don't know anything against him. Why shouldn't she marry him? If she is in love with him I shall not put myself forward. I shall not stand in the way. I shall wish her happiness with all my heart, and I shall always remain her friend."
"And yet you said that you had a horrible fear. You can't help feeling as I do about Mr. Blake?"
"Ah!" Frank cried, "I am human, and I love her. It's because of that that I want her to have her chance, and Blake, too. I wont let myself think ill of him, if I can help, but a fellow is a man after all, Ina."
They went out into the night. Minnie Pryde came beside Lady Horace. "I know that you two anyhow won't be talking sentiment," she said. "I saw pretty soon that I had better make myself scarce, as far as the other two are concerned."
Ina and Frank both laughed discordantly. "Oh, I forgot," cried Miss Pryde. "Don't mind me, Mr. Hallett, and look here, oughtn't you to go back and listen to Mr. Leeke? He had got up just as we left."
Hallett bade good-night to Ina, and paused for a moment to shake hands with Elsie. It seemed to him that she and Blake were lingering a good deal behind.
"Good-night," Elsie said sweetly, "and please when you get into the Ministry, see that I have a place at the Opening."
They had got out of the lighted space round the House of Assembly, and were walking down a dim street bordered with houses and gardens, which led to the Ferry. On one side lay the Botanical Gardens. At the end of the road they had left, and beyond the House of Assembly, were the great gates of Government House with their flaring lamps. The heavy fragrance of datura blossoms weighted the air. Ina and Minnie Pryde walked on alone.
"Won't you take my arm?" said Blake.
She put her hand within his arm, and they walked on for a few moments in silence. He put his hand out and touched her cloak. Are you sure that you are warm enough? the nights are beginning to be cold."
"Yes," said Elsie. There was an odd restrained tenderness in his manner which set her pulses tingling.
"Did you miss me to-day?" he asked suddenly.
"Yes," she answered.
"But you had your usual crowd, your verandah reception, you didn't want me?"
Elsie did not reply for a minute. "It was too early for my verandah reception," she said coldly. "No," she exclaimed presently in a hard tone, "I didn't want you in the least. It was a day off, you know. I wasn't playing the game. I hadn't got to be thinking all the time of the next move."
"The next move," he said seriously, "what is it to be? We have gathered chucky-chuckies and sat on the boat-house steps, and danced, and sat out, and ridden, and done all the usual things that belong to the game of flirtation. There remains only one yet of the minor experiences."
"The minor experiences?"
"The experiences which belong to the initiatory stage of flirtation. I have found you perfectly charming, horribly dangerous. I confess it."
Elsie turned her soft face towards him, and their eyes met. He could see by the faint light of a growing moon that she blushed.
"Yes, horribly dangerous," he repeated.
"What is the other experience?" she asked.
"A row by moonlight. I should prefer it with you alone, but I suppose the proprieties forbid. Shall it be Lady Horace or Miss Pryde who chaperons us?"
"I will go for a row with you the next time you come in the evening. I am glad you warned me that it is part of the game."
They had reached the ferry steps. Miss Minnie Pryde called a fairly musical "O-o-ver." The plash of the oars sounded nearer and nearer as the boat approached. Blake stepped on to the bow, and held out his hand to each of the ladies. One or two others were crossing as well. The stern was filled, and he took his seat in the bows. Several of the passengers were from Fermoy's, and knew Lady Horace and her sister. The talk fell on the evening's debate. Mr. Anderson, one of the young men, praised Hallett's speech.
"I tell you what it is though, Lady Horace," exclaimed another, "that chap Blake beat him into fits. I say, can you tell me who he is? They call him Monte Christo. He chucks half-sovereigns to the railway porters, and rides thoroughbreds fit for a king."
"Oh! hush!" murmured Ina faintly, and turned the conversation with some rapid question . Blake had probably not heard the remark—at least so Elsie imagined. He sat still in the bow, looking like a Monte Christo indeed, only his eyes were tenderer surely, than those of Dumas's hero. Elsie's young bosom fluttered. At last she was in the land of romance. And yet there was a dim terror in the background of her maidenly satisfaction; a terror of unknown forces which might at any moment break from their chain.
When they had got out of the boat and mounted the ferry hill there was a halt. Fermoy's lay in one direction, Riverside in another. It was only a little walk to Riverside, and the sisters had often gone across the paddock alone. To-night Ina seemed particularly anxious that Elsie should wait at Fermoy's for Lord Horace to escort her.
"Then I might wait all night," said Miss Valliant. "No, thank you, Ina, I shall go straight home, and you get to your bed."
"You will let me see you to your gate?" said Blake, in a low tone. Mr. Anderson stepped forward, entreating that he might be the favoured escort. Minnie Pryde, who lived quite at the end of the Point, had secured her own particular swain, who was also a lodger at Fermoys'.
"No," said Elsie, firmly. "Mr. Blake is going to take me, and you, please, look after my sister. Good-night, Ina. Good-night, Minnie. Ina, I shall come down to-morrow and see how we are going to the Garfits'."
The Garfit dance was to take place on the morrow.
Elsie and Blake were alone in the soft scented night. Many of the eucalyptus in the paddock had been left standing. Elsie said that they made her think of the Bush and of the Luya.
"And, perhaps, of your future home," said Blake.
"Perhaps," said Elsie coldly. "If it is going to be my fate to marry a bushman."
"Do you know what your fate ought to be?" said Blake. "You should marry a rich man, who would take you to Europe and place you in a position to which your beauty entitles you. You should have everything that the world can give to a beautiful woman. You should be caressed, flattered, fêted, adorned, surrounded by every luxury, and set in a fitting frame."
"Thank you," said Elsie. "You draw a pleasant picture."
"But that will not be your fate," Blake went on. "You will marry Frank Hallett, or another. You will never rise above the level of prosperous Australian Philistinism. You will never taste the finest aroma of romance and of enjoyment. You will never know the fascination of danger. You will never experience the subtle emotions which make one day better worth living than a lifetime."
"Have you gone through all this?"
"In part. Life has always been for me a drama. I started with the intention of getting all I could out of it. I think I have succeeded pretty well, though it has been as much bad as good. I don't care in the least about life as life. But as I told you one day, there is something in me fierce and untamable, and I confess also morbid, which craves for some other outlet than that of the decorous Philistine routine."
"And so you contrive to get that outlet?"
"Yes."
"I can't imagine how! Surely not in the life I see you lead."
"There are excitements even in the life which you' see me lead," he answered evasively.
"Such as this evening, for instance. But that can mean nothing. It must be easy for you to excel among such men as are. in the Assembly here."
"You should not disparage them. The Governor was telling me that he has been deeply impressed by the ability and statesmanlike foresight of Sir James Garfit. Look, Miss Valliant! Did you ever see the river so beautiful? What would you not give to have a row tonight?"
He pointed to the shining flood, flecked by the moon's rays, and with the mysterious shadows of the bamboos on the opposite shore mirrored on its surface.
"If it had been the days when Ina and I were alone here, we should probably unmoor the boat and go."
"May I not be Lady Horace for to-night?"
"Ah, Ina would not do it now. She has grown so staid since her marriage. Horace would tell her that it was not the sort of thing an English lady would do."
"Come." He held open the wicket which led into the garden. The banana trees looked weird in the moonlight. The cottage was all dark. There was a light only in Mrs. Valliant's room. At the click of the gate, the casement was opened, and Mrs. Valliant said "Elsie?"
"Yes, mother, I am coming presently. Mr. Blake has brought me home, and I have an irresistible longing just to go down to the boathouse and see the moonlight on the water."
"Can't you see it from the verandah?" said Mrs. Valliant weakly.
Elsie laughed. "Poor mother! I shall come presently, dear. You can't think how hot and stuffy it was in the gallery. I couldn't sleep if I went to bed now."
"Oh, well ! " said Mrs. Valliant resignedly, and she closed the window.
The whole proceeding struck Blake as amazing. The mother was more amazing than the daughter. He was still more astonished when, as they walked along the little path, Elsie turned to him, and said abruptly "Goodnight."
"But you are not going in?"
"No, but I don't want you. Good-night."
"But the river, and the row?"
"Good gracious! What do you think of me?" she cried, fiercely. "I understand you very well. You are playing your game. I am playing mine. Good-night."
She walked on, and disappeared among the bananas, without again turning her head. He heard her go down the steps. He heard the sound of the boat pushing off. He saw her a few minutes later seated with the oars, rowing to the opposite side. It was quite bright enough for him to observe the grace of her movement, and the poise of her figure, and of her flower-like head upturned to the night.
She was on the water about a quarter of an hour, long enough to row across and back again. She gave a start when she saw him standing just where she had left him.
"Why didn't you go home?"
"Because I wanted to see that you got in without any harm coming to you. I couldn't insist upon going with you, but I could at least give myself the satisfaction of watching for you."
"Thank you." She held out her hand. And then he saw that her eyes were wet, and that there was a great tear-drop on her cheek.
"Elsie!" he exclaimed. "You have been crying?"
"Yes," she cried recklessly, "and do you know why—because I, too, have something in me that is fierce and untamable, and because I am not like you. I can find no outlet in my life."
She darted from him and ran into the house. He walked slowly back to Fermoy's through the paddock.