Seven Little Australians

by Ethel Sybil Turner

  CHAPTER XIX

  A Pale-Blue Hair Ribbon

  She in her virginal beauty As pure as a pictured saint, How should this sinning and sorrow Have for her danger or taint?

  The reason our sweet pale Margaret had been reluctant of her smileswas on account of the very man who alone missed them.

  Quite a warm friendship had sprung up during the month between thelittle fair-faced girl, who looked with such serene blue eyes to afuture she felt must be beautiful, and the world-worn man, who lookedback to a past all blackened and unlovely by his own acts.

  He rode with the two girls every-day, because Mrs. Hassal did notlike them going long distances alone; and, seeing Judy seldom walkedher horse, and Meg's steed had not a canter in it, it fell out thathe kept beside the slow and timid rider all the time.

  "You remind me of a little sister I had who died," he said slowly toMeg once, after a long talk. "Perhaps if she were alive now I shouldnot be quite so contemptible."

  Meg's face flushed scarlet, and a shamed look had come into her eyes.It seemed altogether terrible to her that he should know she knew ofhis failing.

  "Perhaps it makes her sorry now," she said in a whisper he scarcelyheard, and then she grew pale at her boldness, and rode on a littleway to hide her distressed looks.

  On the way home the pale-blue ribbon, that tied the strands of hersunny plait together, blew off. He dismounted and picked it up.Meg stretched out her hand for it, but he untied the bow and foldedit slowly round his big hand.

  "May I keep it?" he said in a low voice. "For my blue ribbon?I know the conditions that attach."

  "If you would--oh, if you would!" Meg breathed rather than said.Then Judy galloped up and they rode home three abreast. It wassuch happiness to her all the hot, long days that followed; to agirl just entering life there can be no purer, deeper feeling ofpleasure than that brought by the knowledge that she is influencingfor good some man or woman older than herself, more sin-worn andearth-wearied. Poor little Meg! Her tender rose dreams hadpictured her big _protege_ a man among men again, holding up hishead once more, taking his place in the world, going back to theold country, and claiming the noble lady her fertile imaginationhad pictured; waiting so patiently for him; and all this becauseshe, Meg Woolcot, had stepped into his life and pointed the wayhe should go.

  And then she went to swing in a hammock on the back veranda,and all her castles came tumbling about her ears, dealing her sharp,bitter blows. There was a thick creeper of passion-fruit vinesbehind her, and through it she could hear Tettawonga talking tothe cook.

  "Marse Gillet on the burst agen," he said, and chuckled throughthe side of his lips where his pipe did not rest.

  Meg sat up in horror. Since she had been at Yarrahappini she hadheard the phrase applied to too many of the station hands: not toknow that it meant a reckless drinking bout.

  "Lor'! I'M not surprised," the woman said, "he's been too sober latedays to keep it up; s'pose he's been trying to last the visitors out,but found it too much. Who's got the keys?"

  "Mis' Hassal," he said, "you to helpin' her--ba`al good forstores to-day, Marse Gillet--he, he, ha, ha!"

  So that was what had happened to him all these three days she hadnot seen him! She had heard he had ridden over to the next station onbusiness for Mr. Hassal, but had not dreamed such 'a thing hadovertaken him. The fifth day she had seen him in the distance, oncecoming out of the storeroom and looking exactly like himself, onlyhis shoulders stooped a little more, and once smoking outside his owndoor.

  The sixth day was the picnic.

  Just as light-hearted and merry as the others she could not feel,with this disappointment at her heart, this shaken trust in humannature.

  How weak he was, she thought, how ignoble!

  All her pity was swept away in a young, large indignation.

  She had hardly shaken hands when they had met in the morning,and all the long drive she was persistently cold towards him.

  After lunch the party became scattered. Judy took the General andwent over to the belt of trees; Pip and Bunty occupied themselveswith catching locusts; Baby and Nell gathered wild flowers. Megknelt down to collect the spoons and forks: and put the untouchedfood back into the baskets away from the ants.

  "I will do this--you look hot, Miss Meg; sit down quietly," Mr.Gillet said.

  "Thank you, but I prefer to do it myself," Miss Meg said, withfreezing dignity.

  She did not look at him, but there was a certain tightness abouther lips that made him know the light in her clear young, eyes wasa scornful one.

  He did not offer again, but sat and watched her pack up the thingswith an untranslatable look on his face. When she had almostfinished he took something out of his pocket.

  "I have to give you this again," he said, and handed her the bluelength of ribbon, folded smoothly, but showing the crease where ithad been tied.

  She took it without lifting her eyes, crushed it up in her hand, andslipped it into her pocket.

  "I had almost hoped you would say I might keep it, in spite ofeverything," he said, "just as a talisman against the future, butyour lips are too severe, Miss for me to cherish the hope longer."

  "It would be as useless as it has been," she said stiffly. Herhands moved nervously, however, and she wrapped up the remains ofa duck and a jam tart together.

  "Then I am not to have another chance?" he said.

  "It would be no use," Meg repeated, gathering up bananas and orangeswith a heightened colour.

  He does not realize how wicked he has been, he thinks he ought to beforgiven at once was her thought.

  He emptied the billy slowly on the ground, he put on its blackened lidand tied the newspaper around it. Then he looked at her again,and the way her soft hair fell on her forehead made him thinkof his young dead sister.

  "I BEG you to give it to me again, little Miss Meg," he said.

  Meg's heart and head had a rapid battle; the former was tenderand charitable, and bade her take the little ribbon and give it tohim instantly; the latter said he had sinned greatly, and she mustshow him her disapproval by her manner, even if she yielded what heasked her in the end. The head won.

  "My influence is evidently useless--that bit of ribbon would makeno difference in the future," she said very coldly.

  He leaned back against the tree and yawned, as if the subject had nomore interest for him.

  "Ah well," he said, "I dare say you are right." Meg felt a littletaken down.

  "Of course, if you really want the ribbon you can have it," she saidloftily. She took it from her pocket and tendered it to him.

  But he made no effort to take it.

  "Keep it to tie your hair again, little girl," he said; "after all,I don't suppose it would be any use."

  Meg continued her packing with burning cheeks, and he filled up hispipe and smoked it, watching her idly the while.

  "It's an odd thing," he said, more as if making an observationthan addressing her, "but the gentlest-looking women are nearlyalways the hardest."

  Meg opened her mouth to speak, but found nothing to say, so closed itagain and began to count Mrs. Hassal's forks for the fourth time.

  "I wonder would you mind if I gave you a little advice, Miss Meg, inreturn for all you have given me," he said, taking his pipe fromhis mouth and looking at it as if he were trying to find out thelettering on its nickel plate.

  "Certainly not."

  She laid down the bundle and looked at him with calm, surprisedeyes. "Say whatever you please, I do not mind in the very least."

  He sat up and played with the handle of a strap while he spoke.

  "You have brothers," he said; "some day they will go a littleastray--for it is only women like you, Miss Meg, and angels whocan keep to the path always. Don't be too hard on them. Don'tmake an effort to show them the difference between your whitenessand their blackness. They will see it right enough, but theywon't like you to draw their attention to it. Try and look gentleand f
orgiving--they'll feel quite as miserable as you could wishthem to feel. The world has a beautiful frown of its own, and anendless vocabulary of cold words--wouldn't it do if the littlesisters left it the monopoly of them?"

  "Oh-h-h!" said Meg. Her cheeks were crimson, and all the dignityhad oozed out of her voice.

  He buckled the strap round nothing with infinite care, and went onagain in a low tone:

  "Suppose Pip did something very wrong some day, and the world flungstones at him till he was bruised all over. And suppose feelingvery wretched, he came home to his sisters. And Meg, becausewickedness was abhorrent to her, threw a few more little stones,so that the pain might teach him a lesson he could not forget.And Judy, because he was her brother and in trouble, flung her armsround him and encouraged him, and helped him to fight the world again,and gave him never a hard word or look, thinking he had had plenty.Which sister's influence would be greater, Miss Meg?"

  Meg's little soft mouth, was quivering, her eyes were on the ground,because the tears would have splashed out if she had lifted them.

  "Oh-h-h!" she said again. "Oh, how very horrid I have been--oh-h-h!"

  She covered her face with her hands, for one of her quickly gatheredtears was trembling on her lashes.

  Mr. Gillet dropped the strap and the pipe, and looked across to herwith tender eyes.

  "I am more than twice your age, Miss Meg, old enough nearly to beyour father--you will forgive me for saying all this, won't you?I was thinking, of my sister who died. I had another little sister,too, a year older, but she was hard--only event to her once.She is one of the best women in England now, but her lips are severe.Little Miss Meg, I could not bear the thought of you growing hard."

  Half a dozen big tears had fallen down among the forks. Meg wascrying because it was borne upon her what a very hateful creatureshe was. First Alan lectured her and spoke of his sister, and nowthis man.

  He misinterpreted her silence.

  "I have no right to speak to you like this, because my life has beenany colour but white--that is it, isn't it, Miss Meg?" he said withgreat sadness.

  Meg dropped her sheltering hands.

  "Oh, no," she said, "oh! how CAN you think so? It is only I am sohorrid." She rummaged in her pocket and brought out the ribbon.

  "Will you take it again?" she said--"oh, PLEASE, just to make mefeel less horrid. Oh, please take it!"

  She looked at him with wet, imploring eyes, and held it out.

  He took it, smoothed its crumpledness, and placed it in hispocket-book.

  "God bless you," he said, and the tone made Meg sob.