Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone

We returned to the bank of the river – just in time to form our bivouac, before the night fell upon us – having accomplished during the day, about four miles in the direction in which we intended going!

“I am a little disgusted with hunting,” said one of my companions, whose name was Vane. “I move that in the morning we keep on to the station; and see what amusement is to be found there.”

This proposition was carried, by a majority of three. The horse, being indifferent on the subject, was permitted to remain neutral.

“What amusement shall we find at your friend’s house?” asked Vane of my other companion – who was the one acquainted with the squatter we were on the way to visit.

“Well, I suppose we can have some hunting there,” replied the individual thus interrogated; and who always answered, in a polite manner, to the name of “Cannon.”

“No, thank you!” said Vane. “We’ve had enough of that sort of thing to-day. I don’t want any more of it.”

“But at the station we shall be provided with horses,” suggested Cannon; “and, when we get sight of a kangaroo, we can run the animal down.”

“That makes a difference,” said Vane; “and I don’t mind trying it for a day. But is there no other amusement, to be had at your friend’s house?”

“Not that I know of – unless you make love to my friend’s pretty daughter.”

“Ah! that would be amusement,” exclaimed Vane, evidently a little stirred by the communication.

“Is she good-looking?” he asked.

“Yes, extremely good-looking. But, remember, comrades,” continued Cannon, “I will allow no serious love-making.”

“Give yourself no uneasiness about that,” rejoined Vane. “In love affairs, I am never serious. Are you?” he asked, turning to me.

“Yes, very serious,” I answered, thinking of Lenore.

“Then you will never be successful,” said Vane.

I passed half-an-hour in a fruitless endeavour to comprehend the philosophy of this remark, after which I fell asleep.

Next morning, we resumed our route for the squatters’ station; and had got about three miles along the road, when we came to a plain, entirely destitute of timber. Upon this plain was a drove of about a hundred horses. They remained motionless, with heads erect, and nostrils spread, until we had approached within fifty yards of them. They then turned, and galloped off at the top of their speed.

At this moment, a change suddenly showed itself in the demeanour of our old roadster. We had been driving him before us, for the last mile or two, with great difficulty; but, on seeing his congeners take to flight, he suddenly threw up his head; and, either calling out to the drove that he was coming, or to us that he was going, he started towards them. Before we could get hold of his bridle, he was beyond reach – going at a rate that promised soon to place him among the foremost of the herd.

We had supposed that our hack belonged to some “serious family” of horses; and that the natural sedateness of his disposition had been augmented by years of toil and starvation. We were never more disappointed, than on seeing him forsake us in the fashion he did. A two-year old could not have gone more gaily.

Cannon and Vane started off in pursuit of him; but, as I had a little more experience in colonial horses, than either of my companions, I bade good-bye both to our roadster and my roll of blankets; and, stretching myself under the shade of a tree, I resolved to await their return.

I did wait. One hour passed, then another, and a third; and still my companions did not come back.

“I am a fool for remaining here,” reflected I. “The squatters station cannot be more than five miles distant; and they have probably gone there? The herd of horses undoubtedly belongs to it; and my companions have followed them home?”

Influenced by these conjectures, I once more rose to my feet; and continued the journey, that had been so unexpectedly interrupted.

Volume Two – Chapter Twenty Five.

Jessie

The path led me along the bank of a river. It was the Yarra-Yarra.

As I moved onward, I began to perceive, that I had not been such a fool, after all, in having waited awhile for my companions. My long quiet reverie, in the shade of the tree, had refreshed me. I had escaped the hot sunshine; and I should now be able to reach my destination, during the cool hours of evening.

I did not wish to arrive at the station before Cannon: as I should require him to introduce me.

My solitary journey was altogether an agreeable one. The bright waters of the Yarra-Yarra flowed by my side, while the gentle breeze, as it came softly sighing through the peppermint-trees, fanned my brow.

After advancing, as I supposed, a distance of about four miles – hearing only the cries of the screaming cockatoo, and the horribly human voice of the laughing jackass – I was suddenly and agreeably surprised by the barking of a dog. The animal could not be far off; and it was also in the direction I was going – up the river.

“The station cannot be distant?” thought I; and eager to catch a glimpse of it, I hastened forward. I had scarce made a step further, when I was startled by a piercing scream. It was a human voice – the voice of a woman. She who gave utterance to it must be near the spot – concealed by some wattle-bushes on the bank of the river?

I rushed forward; and glided through the bushes into the open ground beyond. I perceived a young woman just on the point of leaping into the river!

My abrupt appearance seemed to cause a change in her design. Suddenly turning towards me, she pointed to the water, at the same time exclaiming, “Save her! O, save her!”

Looking in the direction thus indicated, I saw something like a child – a little girl – struggling on the surface of the water. Partly supported by the drapery of her dress, she was drifting down with the current. The next instant I was in the water, with the child in my arms.

The bank of the river, for some distance below, was too high and steep for me to climb out again. After making two or three ineffectual attempts, I gave it up; and, supporting myself and the child by a swimming stroke, I permitted the current to carry us down, until I had reached a place where it was possible to scramble ashore.

The young girl upon the bank had done all she could to assist me, while I was endeavouring to climb out; but, fearing, from the state of excitement in which she appeared to be, that she would herself tumble in, I had commanded her to desist.

On my relinquishing the attempt to ascend the steep bank, she appeared to think that I had done so in despair; and that both the child and I were irrecoverably lost.

Her screams recommenced, while her movements betokened something like a determination to join company with us in the water. This, I believe, she would have done, had I not at that instant reached a place, where the bank shelved down to the surface, and where I at length succeeded in getting my feet upon dry land. In another moment I had placed the child in her arms.

For some time after my getting out of the water, the attention of the young girl was wholly engrossed by the little creature I had rescued; and, without fear of my scrutiny being noticed, I had a good opportunity of observing her.

As she stood before me, affectionately caressing her little companion, I thought that there could be on this earth but one other so lovely – one Lenore.

She appeared to be about sixteen years of age. I had often heard of “golden hair,” and always had regarded the expression as a very foolish figure of speech. I could do so no longer on looking at the hair of that Australian maiden. Its hue was even less peculiar than its quantity. There seemed more than a delicate form could carry.

I could not tell the colour of her eyes; but I saw that they emitted a soft brilliant light, resembling the outburst of an autumn sun.

When she became satisfied that the child was unharmed, she proceeded to thank me for the service I had done, in “preserving the life of her sister.”

I interrupted her expressions of gratitude, by offering to accompany her to her home. The child, after the fright it had sustained, seemed hardly able to stand; and I proposed to carry it in my arms. My proposal was accepted; and we proceeded on up the river.

An animal called in the colonies a “Kangaroo dog,” led the way; and to this quadruped the young girl directed my attention.

“Rosa was running in advance of me,” said she, “and was playing with the dog. It was he that pushed her into the river. I fear, our mother will not allow us to come out again, though I am very fond of straying along the Yarra-Yarra. We have not far to go,” she added; “the house is just behind that hill, you see before us. It is not quite a mile to it.”

I was pleased to hear this: for Rosa was about five years of age, and of a weight that I did not desire to walk under for any great distance.

I had forgotten all about my gun. I had dropped it, when jumping into the river; and only remembered it now, long after we had left the spot. On turning towards my companion, I saw that she had it in her hands.

During our progress towards her home, I was constantly making comparisons between my companion and Lenore. They were mental, and involuntary. She and Lenore were the two most lovely objects I had ever seen; and yet they were altogether unlike. Lenore was dark, reserved, and dignified, though the expression of her features and the silent glance of her eye denoted, that her soul contained volumes of warm poetic fancy that might never be expressed in words.

The young girl by my side was fair and free-spoken; she talked almost continuously; and I could plainly perceive, that every thought of her mind must find expression in speech.

Before we had reached the house, I had learnt the simple history of her life. She was the daughter of Mr H – , the friend of Cannon – for whose station we were bound.

She was the one about whom Cannon had bantered Vane – telling him that he might amuse himself by making love to her. Cannon had never spoken a truer word in his life, than when he said that she was “extremely good-looking.” If the description was at all incorrect, it was because it was too tame. She was more than good-looking – she was beautiful.

I learnt from her that her name was Jessie, that her life was very lonely on the station – where the appearance of a stranger, whatever he might be, was an unusual event; and that she was much pleased that an acquaintance of her father had sent word, that he was about to visit them with two of his friends.

“That acquaintance is Mr Cannon?” said I, interrogatively.

“Yes; and you are one of the friends who was to come with him,” rejoined she, with a woman’s instinct, jumping to the correct conclusion. “Oh! we shall be so happy to have you with us!”

We had still that mile further to go; but although Rosa was no light weight to carry, the distance appeared as nothing.

Before we had reached her home, Jessie H – seemed to be an old acquaintance. I felt assured that my visit to her father’s station would prove a pleasant one.

On arriving at the house there ensued a scene of excitement, of which little Rosa’s mishap was the cause.

Jessie seemed determined to make me the hero of the hour; and I had to listen to profuse expressions of gratitude from her father and mother – all for bringing a child out of the water – an act that a Newfoundland dog would have performed, quite as cleverly as I.

Little Rosa was the favourite of the family; and their thanks for what I had done were in proportion to the affection entertained for her.

When they had succeeded in making me feel very uncomfortable, and appear very much like a fool, I had to listen to some nonsense from my travelling companions Vane and Cannon – who had arrived at the station nearly an hour before. Their badinage was to the effect, that I had got the start of them, in the amusement of love-making to the beautiful Jessie.

My companions had been unsuccessful in the pursuit of our packhorse. He had gone quite off into the “bush” – carrying his cargo along with him.

We never saw either again!

Volume Two – Chapter Twenty Six.

Australian Amusements

The owner of the station, Mr H – , followed the kindred occupations of grazier and wool-grower; and, to judge by the appearance of his home, he had carried on this combined business to some advantage. He was a simple, kind-hearted man, about fifty years of age; and, having been a colonist for more than twenty years, he understood how to make our visit to his home as pleasant, as circumstances would admit.

The day after our arrival, we were inducted into the mysteries of a “kangaroo hunt.” In chase of an “old-man kangaroo” we had a fine run, of about three miles, through the bush; and the affair was pronounced by Vane, who claimed the character of a sportsman, to be a more exciting chase than any fox-hunt he had ever witnessed in the old country. To be “in at the death” of a fox is to be present at a scene of considerable excitement; but it is tame, when compared with the termination of a kangaroo chase. When an “old-man kangaroo” is brought to bay – after having come to the conclusion that he has jumped far enough – then comes the true tug of war.

The venerable gentleman places his back against a tree; and resists further molestation in a most determined manner. He shows fight in his own way – by lifting up one of his hind legs, and bringing it down again with a sudden “slap” – all the time supporting himself in an upright attitude on the other. The blow does not cause a sudden jar, like the kick of a horse; but by means of his long, sharp claws, the kangaroo will tear the skin from the body of a dog, or any other assailant, that may imprudently come within reach.

Vane and Cannon knew that I had been a sailor. They expected, therefore, some amusement in seeing me “navigate” a horse across the rough country – among the standing and prostrated trees of an Australian “bush.”

They did not know, that I had been more than two years in the saddle – as a United States dragoon; and that I had ridden over heaps of dead and wounded men – over crippled horses and broken carriages – as well as thousands of miles across the desert plains and through the dense forests of America.

They were taken somewhat by surprise, on beholding my horsemanship; and Vane flattered me with the hope, that a few years’ practice would make me as good a hunter as himself!

We returned home with a game-bag – containing two dead kangaroos; and next day, at dinner, indulged in the luxury of “kangaroo-tail” soup.

Our amusement, for the following day, was a fishing excursion along the Yarra-Yarra.

We caught an abundance of fish; but they were so small, that angling for them appeared to be an amusement more fit for children than men; and we soon became weary of the rod and line.

Each day, on returning home to the station, we enjoyed the society of the beautiful Jessie.

As already stated, this young lady was an accomplished conversationist – though her teaching had been only that of Nature. She could carry on a conversation with all three of us at once; and on a different subject with each.

I believe that Vane fell in love with her at first sight; and his whole behaviour betokened, that he intended paying no attention to the command or request which had been made by the man who introduced him.

I knew very little about love affairs; but something whispered me that, if Vane should form a serious attachment for Jessie H – it would end in his disappointment and chagrin. Something told me, she would not reciprocate his affection – however fond it might be.

At the same time, I could perceive in the young lady a partiality for myself. I did not attempt to discover the reason for this. It might have been because my introduction to her had been made, under circumstances such as often win a woman’s love. She might have admired my personal appearance. Why not? I was young; and had been often told that I possessed good looks. Why should Jessie H – not fall in love with me, as well as another?

As I reflected thus, conscience whispered to me, that I should take leave of Mr H – ’s family; and return to Melbourne.

I did not do so; and I give the reason. Jessie H – was so enchantingly lovely, and her conversation so interesting, that I could not make up my mind to separate from her.

Several times I had mentally resolved to bid adieu to my new acquaintances; but my resolutions remained unfulfilled. I stayed at the station, under the fascinations of the charmer.

Our diversions were of different kinds. One day we would visit a tribe of native blacks living up the river, where we would be treated to astonishing spectacles of their manners, and customs, especially their exploits with the boomerang and spear.

Our mornings would be spent in kangaroo hunting; and our evenings in the society of the beautiful Jessie.

One day we made an excursion – all going well mounted – to a grazing station about fifteen miles from that of Mr H – . Our object was to assist the proprietor in running a large drove of his young cattle into a pen – for the purpose of having them branded.

The animals were almost wild; and we had an exciting day’s sport, in getting them inside the inclosure. Several feats of horsemanship were exhibited by the different graziers, who assisted at the ceremony. The affair reminded me of what I had seen in California, upon the large grazing estates – “ganaderias” of that country. We were home again before dinner time; and in the evening I was again thrown into the company of Jessie.

I could not help reading her thoughts. They were easily interpreted: for she made no attempt to conceal what others might have desired to keep secret. Before I had been a week in her company, I was flattered with full evidence, that the warmest love of a warm-hearted girl was, or might be, mine.

There are few that do not sometimes stray from the path of rectitude – even knowingly and willingly. By staying longer at the station of Mr H – when convinced that the happiness of another depended on my leaving it – I was, perhaps, acting as most others would have done; but I knew I was doing wrong. It brought its own punishment, as wickedness ever will.

Jessie loved me. I was now sure of it. Several circumstances had combined to bring this misfortune upon her. Grateful for the service I had done in saving their child, her father and mother acted, as if they could not treat me with sufficient consideration. Little Rosa herself thought me the most remarkable man in the world; and was always talking of me to her sister.

It was natural for a girl like Jessie to love some one; and she had met but few, from whom she could make a choice. There was nothing strange in her young affections becoming centred on me; and they had done so. Conscience told me that I should at once take myself from her presence; but the fascination of that presence proved stronger than my sense of duty; and I remained – each day, becoming more enthralled by the spell of her beauty.

Why was it wrong in me to stay by the side of Jessie H – ? Lenore Hyland had forsaken me; and why should I not love another? Where could I hope to find a woman more beautiful, more truthful, more worthy of being loved, or more capable of loving than Jessie. The task of learning to love her seemed every day to grow less difficult; and why should I bring the process to an abrupt termination?

These considerations required my most profound reflection. They obtained it – at least I thought so; – but the reflections of a man, under the fascinating influence of female beauty, are seldom guided by wisdom. Certainly mine were not, else I would not have allowed the hopes and happiness of my life to have been wrested from me by the loss of Lenore.

Volume Two – Chapter Twenty Seven.

“Love but One!”

“What should I do?” This was the question that presented itself to my mind, almost every hour of the day. It called energetically for an answer.

I loved Lenore Hyland – I felt that I ever should, as long as life was left me. Such being the case, was it right for me to endeavour to gain the affections of an unsophisticated girl like Jessie H – ? Would it be honourable of me to take advantage of that incident – which had no doubt favoured her first inclination towards me? To win her heart, and then forsake her, would be to inflict upon her the same sorrow I was myself suffering for the loss of Lenore.

Lenore was still more dear to me than life; and I had only lived since losing her, because I believed it a crime to die, until some Supreme Power should call me to come. And yet should I ever return to Liverpool, and find Lenore a widow – even though she should wish it – I could never marry her!

“She can never be mine,” thought I. “She never loved me; or she would have waited for my return. Why, then, should I not love Jessie, and make her my wife?”

There are many who would have adopted this alternative; and without thinking there was any wrong in it.

I did, however. I knew that I could never love Jessie, as I had loved Lenore – to whose memory I could not help proving true, notwithstanding that she had abandoned me for another. This feeling on my part may have been folly – to a degree scarce surpassed by my mother’s infatuation for Mr Leary; but to know that a certain course of action is foolish, does not always prevent one from pursuing it.

“Shall I marry Jessie, and become contented – perhaps happy? Or shall I remain single – true to the memory of the lost Lenore – and continue the aimless, wandering, wretched existence I have lately experienced?”

Long and violent was the struggle within my soul, before I could determine upon the answers to these self-asked questions. I knew that I could love Jessie; but never as I should. “Would it be right, then, for me to marry her?” I answered the last question by putting another. “Should I myself wish to have a wife, who loved another man, and yet pretended for me an affection she did not feel?”

I need scarcely say, that this interrogatory received an instantaneous response in the negative. It determined me to separate from Jessie H – , and at once. To remain any longer in her society – to stay even another day under the roof of her father’s house, would be a crime for which I could never forgive myself. To-morrow I should start for Melbourne.

I had been walking on the bank of the river, when these reflections, and the final resolve, passed through my mind. I was turning to go back to the house, when I saw Jessie straying near. She approached me, as if by accident.

“Miss H – ,” said I, “I am going to take leave of you.”

“Going to leave me!” she exclaimed, her voice quivering as she spoke.

“Yes; I must start for Melbourne to-morrow morning.”

She remained silent for some seconds; and I could see that the colour had forsaken her checks.

“I am very sorry,” she said at length, “very sorry to hear it.”

“Sorry!” I repeated, hardly knowing what I said, “why should that grieve you?”

I should not have asked such a question; and, as soon as I had done so, I perceived the mistake I had made.

She offered no reply to it; but sate down upon the bank; and rested her head upon her hands. An expression had come over her countenance, unmistakeably of a painful character; and I could see that her eyes were fast filling with tears.

“Surely this girl loves me? And surely I could love her?”

I know not how these two mental interrogatories were answered. I only know that, instead of rejoicing in the knowledge that I had gained her love, I was made miserable by the thought.

I raised her to her feet; and allowed her head to rest upon my shoulder.

“Miss H – ,” said I, “can it be that you show so much emotion, merely at parting with a friend?”

“Ah!” she replied, “I have thought of you as a friend; but such a one as I never knew before. My life has been lonely. We are here, as you know, shut out from all intercourse with the world. We can form but few friendships. Yours has been to me like some unknown joy of life. You have been my only thought, since I first saw you.”

“You must try to forget me – to forget that we have ever met; and I will try to forget you. I should only think of you as a friend!”