Volume Four—Chapter Nineteen.
The Good that was in him.
“Hi! Sir Gordon!”
The old gentleman turned as a big-bearded man cantered up over the rough land by the track, some six months after the prison gates had closed upon Robert Hallam.
“Oh, it’s you!” said Sir Gordon, shading his eyes from the blazing sun. “Well?”
“Don’t be rough on a fellow, Sir Gordon. I’ve been a big blackguard, I know, but somehow I never had a chance from the first. I want to do the right thing now.”
“Humph! Pretty well time,” said the old man. “Well, what is it?”
The man hesitated as if struggling with shame, and he thought himself weak, but he struck his boot heavily with his whip, and took off his broad felt hat.
“I’ll do it,” he said sharply to himself. Then, aloud: “Look here, sir, I’m sick of it.”
“Humph! then you’d better leave it,” said the old man with an angry sneer. “Go and give yourself up, and join your old companion.”
“That’s rough!” said Crellock with a grim smile. “How hard you good people can be on a fellow when he’s down!”
“What have you ever done to deserve anything else, you scoundrel?” cried Sir Gordon fiercely. “Twenty thousand pounds of my money you and your rogue of a companion had, and I’m tramping through this blazing sun, while you ride a blood horse.”
“Take the horse then,” said Crellock good-humouredly. “I don’t want it!”
“You know I’m too old to ride it, you dog, or you wouldn’t offer it.”
“There, you see, when a fellow does want to turn over a new leaf you good people won’t let him.”
“Won’t let him? Where’s your book and where’s your leaf?”
“Book? Oh, I’m the book, Sir Gordon, and you won’t listen to what’s on the leaf.”
Sir Gordon seated himself on a great tussock of soft grass, took out his gold-rimmed glasses, put them on deliberately and stared up at the great, fine-looking, bronzed man.
“Hah!” he said at last. “You, a man who can talk like that! Why, you might have been a respectable member of society, and here you are—”
“Out on pass in a convict settlement. Say it, Sir Gordon. Well, what wonder? It all began with Hallam when I was a weak young fool, and thought him with his good looks and polished ways a sort of hero. I got into trouble with him; he escaped because I wouldn’t tell tales, and I had to bear the brunt, and after that I never had a chance.”
“Ah, there was a nice pair of you.”
Crellock groaned and seemed about to turn away, but the man’s good genius had him tightly gripped that day, and he smiled again.
“Don’t be hard on me, Sir Gordon. I want to say something to you. I was going to your friend, Mr Christie Bayle, but—I couldn’t do that.”
Sir Gordon watched him curiously.
“You haven’t turned bushranger, then? You’re not going to rob me?”
“No,” said Crellock grimly. “Haven’t I robbed you enough!”
“Humph! Well?”
“Ah, that’s better,” said Crellock; “now you’ll listen to me. The fact is, sir, I’ve been thinking, since I’ve been living all alone, that forty isn’t too old for a man to begin again.”
“Too old? No, man. Why, I’m—there, never mind how old. Older than that, and I’m going to begin again. Forty! Why, you’re a boy!”
“Well, Sir Gordon, I’m going to begin the square. I gave up the drink because—there, never mind why,” he said huskily. “I had a reason, and now I’m going to make a start.”
“Well, go and do it, then. What are you going to do?”
“Oh, get up the country, sir, stockman or shepherding.”
“Wolfing, you mean, sir.”
“Oh, no, I don’t, Sir Gordon,” said Crellock, laughing. “There’s plenty of work to be got, and I like horses and cattle better than I do men now.”
“Well, look here,” said Sir Gordon testily; “I don’t believe you.”
“Eh?”
“I don’t believe you, sir. If you meant all this you’d have gone and begun it instead of talking. There, be off. I’m hot and tired, and want to be alone.” Crellock frowned again, but his good genius gave him another grip of the shoulder, and the smile came back. “You don’t understand me yet, Sir Gordon,” he said. “No, I never shall.”
“I wanted to tell you, sir, that since Hallam was taken, I’ve been living up in the Gully House. I’d nowhere else to go, and I was desperate like. I thought every day that you or somebody would come and take possession, but no one did. Law seems all anyhow out here. Then the days went on. This horse had been down—sprained leg from a bad jump.”
“Confound your horse, sir! I don’t want to hear your stable twaddle,” cried Sir Gordon.
Crellock seemed to swallow a lump in his throat, and paused, but he went on after a while:
“The poor brute was a deal hurt, and tending and bandaging his leg seemed to do me good like. Then I used to send one of the blacks to town for food.”
“And drink?” said Sir Gordon acidly.
“No—for tea; and I’ve lived up there with the horses ever since. There’s—”
“Well, why don’t you go on, man?”
“Give me time,” said Crellock, who had stopped short. “There’s Miss Hallam’s mare there, too. She was very fond of that mare,” he added huskily.
Sir Gordon’s eyes seemed half shut, as he watched the man and noted the changes in his voice.
“Well, sir, I’ve lived there six months now, and nobody has taken any notice. There’s the furniture and the house, and there’s a whole lot of money left yet of what Mrs Hallam brought over.”
“Well?”
“Well! why, Sir Gordon, it’s all yours, of course, and I’ve been waiting for weeks to have this talk to you. I couldn’t come to the cottage.”
“Why not?”
Crellock shook his head.
“No, I couldn’t come there. I’ve laid in wait for you when you were going down to your boat for a sail, but that Tom Porter was always with you; and I didn’t want to write. I didn’t think you’d come if I did. You’d have thought it was a plant, and set the authorities after me, and I didn’t want that because I’ve had enough of convict life.”
“Humph! Well, what do you want me to do?”
“Come and take possession, Sir Gordon, and have the house taken care of. There’s her mare there, you see. Then there’s the money; no one but Hallam and me knows where it’s hidden. I shouldn’t like the place to fall into anybody’s hands.”
“But you? You want to give all this up to me?”
“Of course, sir. It’s all yours. It was the bank money that bought everything.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“Oh, I’m sick of it all, sir, and I want to start clear. I shall go up the country. I think I’m a clever stockman.”
“And you give up everything?”
The man set his teeth.
“Yes, sir,” he said, firmly, as he turned and patted the horse’s neck as it stood close by, cropping the tender shoots of a bush; and it raised its head and laid its muzzle in his hand. “I should like you to see that Joey here had a good master. I threw him down once, and doctoring seemed to make him fond of me. He’s a good horse. It’s a pity you’re too old to ride.”
“Confound you! how dare you?” cried Sir Gordon.
“I’m not too old to ride, sir. I—I—” he started up with his lip quivering. “Here! here! sit down, Crellock. Confound you, sir, I never met with such a scoundrel in all my life!”
Crellock looked at him curiously, and then, throwing the bridle on the ground, he sat down, while Sir Gordon paced up and down in a quick, fidgety walk.
“Have you got anything more to say, sir?” he cried at last.
Crellock was silent for a few moments, and then, drawing a long breath, he said:
“How is Mrs Hallam, sir?”
“Dying,” said Sir Gordon, shortly. “It is a matter of days. Well, is that all?”
There was another interval before Crellock spoke.
“Will you take a message for me, sir, to those up yonder?”
“No!—Yes.”
The words would not come for some moments, and when they did come they were very husky.
“I want you to ask Mrs Hallam to forgive me my share of the past.”
“Is that all?”
“No, Sir Gordon. Tell Miss Julia that for her sake I did give up the drink; that I’m going up now into the bush; that for her sake I’m doing all this; and that I shall never forget the gentle face that bent over me outside the prison walls.”
He turned to go, and had gone a score of yards, walking quickly, but with the horse following, when Sir Gordon called out:
“Stop!”
Crellock stood still, and Sir Gordon walked up to him slowly.
“You are right, Crellock,” he said in a quiet, changed tone. “I believe you. You never had a chance.”
He held out his hand, which the other did not take.
“Shake hands, man.”
“I am a convict, sir,” said Crellock proudly.
“Shake hands,” cried Sir Gordon firmly; and he took the strong, brown hand, slowly raised.
“There is my forgiveness for the past—and—yes—that of the truest, sweetest woman I ever knew. Now, as to your future, do as you say, go into the bush and take up land—new land in this new country, and begin your new life. I shall touch nothing at the Gully House—place, horses, money, they are yours.”
“Mine?” exclaimed Crellock.
“Yes; I have more than ever I shall want; and as to that money which I had always looked upon as lost, if it makes you into what you say you will strive to be, it is the best investment I ever made.”
“But—”
“Good-bye.”