# The Author's Daughter/Chapter 2

CHAPTER II.
BRANXHOLM AND ARALEWIN.
Allan was relieved when he came within sight of home. His mother and his sister Jessie were better able to comfort the poor little orphan than he could be: and then Mr. Hammond might be sent for, and he and his wife might be able to suggest something that could be done to send her to her friends, though in that case, of course, he would see her no more, nor have any opportunity of asking a thousand questions, which the daughter of an Oxford student and author might be able to answer, about things which in his bush life he had had no opportunity of hearing.
Branxholm was an irregular-looking building. It had been put up at different times upon no sort of plan. As an addition had been needed, it had been placed somewhere, without any consideration as to symmetry, and often with ​mistakes as to convenience. As Allan had grown older he had seen that this patchwork was rather unwise, and he had now notions in his head about the next alteration, which was to be a more thorough and systematic piece of work than had been before attempted. The farm-offices and stock-yards were on a level with the house, and much too near it, while the garden, which was really beautiful and well kept, lay back from the house, and was not much seen as you approached it. A never-failing creek ran through the garden, and was crossed by several rustic bridges and bordered by magnificent willows; and the ingenuity which Allan had shown since he was fourteen years old in irrigating the whole large garden from the creek, made its progress and is fertility something wonderful in the district. But from its position Amy could have seen little of the garden even if she had looked through her tears.
As the spring-cart drove up to the front door, which, however, lay at the side of the house, Allan called for his mother and sister in a voice so strange, that they hurried from the kitchen and the garden with alarm, and brought with them the master of the household, too, to find out what could be the matter. A few sad words old the tale. The body of the poor gentleman ​was lifted gently from the spring-cart, and laid on the bed in the spare room. Amy followed the remains of all that was dear to her in the world, and shrinkingly took the cold hand that would never press hers more, while Mrs. Lindsay and Jessie tried to comfort her.
They tried to coax her out of the room while they did the last sad offices for her father, but she would not leave it.
"This should be yours, now, my dear," said Mrs. Lindsay, as she began to take off the wedding-ring from the little finger.
"No, no," said Amy. "Papa never would part with that; he should carry that to the grave with him. I will not take it. But is he—is he really dead? They said they would send for a doctor."
"Oh, my dear," said Mrs. Lindsay, "he is past all doctor's skill now; but we'll send for Dr. Burton to satisfy you that no skill could have saved him from the first. Allan will go at once if it would be any comfort to you. I suppose George Copeland is in the house, Jessie; he maun ride to Aralewin as fast as he can, to tell Mr. Hammond of this awfu' dispensation."
"George is gone already. Tom Cross gave him the letters, and he was off in five minutes; ​and I think my father has sent Pat for the doctor," said Jessie. "Allan thought, as the poor lassie was better acquainted with him, he would not leave the house for so long a time. It is not that Allan grudged the trouble, but his heart is sore for the poor bairn."
Mrs. Lindsay found all was done as Jessie had said, and now for the first time found an opportunity of asking who the poor gentleman was, and what was his connection with Mr. Hammond.
"It is a sudden and awfu' providence, Allan," said she.
"If it is awful to us, mother; what is it to that poor orphan, fatherless and motherless in a strange land? What can we do for her?"
"No doubt Mrs. Hammond will see to her, as is weel her part, and she seems a genty bit body, though no that very weel put on, and bonnie too, if it was not for the greeting."
"I forgot to ask you, Allan," said Mr. Lindsay, "in all this trouble, if you have got the land."
"Yes, father, over Mr. Hammond's head too; for his agent was bidding against me, and made me give five shillings more the acre for it than you set as my price."
"Mr. Hammond won't be over pleased at that, Allan, and he behoves to come here to-night about this unfortunate business, but it cannot be ​helped. I am not sorry that you have got it, nevertheless," said Hugh Lindsay.
It was a five miles' ride for George Copeland to the Hammonds' home-station. It was one of the perversities of fate that had planted the Hammonds so that their nearest neighbours were people who could not be visited, though they might be very worthy people in their way. The Lindsays, though Hugh Lindsay (or rather his wife for him, for she was more skilled in genealogical lore) could count kin with the Balcarras family, had begun their colonial career in a humble way, and indeed for many generations had been poor plain people. But Hugh Lindsay had brought to the colony habits of industry and frugality, and a useful though limited education. He was shrewd and clear-headed; he had a sensible and active wife, and a family of children whom he made useful to him; so that from his original position of a shepherd for another in the early days of the colony, he had risen to be a considerable stock-holder and landowner. He was, of course, a very much poorer man than Mr. Hammond, who had begun life with some capital, while Hugh Lindsay had his capital to create, and who had been equally fortunate in his opportunities and pretty nearly as shrewd in business.
​Hugh was aware that his social position was far inferior to that of his neighbour, but he was not at all disposed to put himself forward. Only in the matter of land buying he had once or twice come into collision with Mr. Hammond, and this was not the only occasion in which he had bought land over his head. He could not help regretting that Jessie, who was so useful and such a treasure to her mother, and Allan his own right hand, whose judgment and skill he relied on in all matters of business, should have missed the advantages of the position they had helped to attain; and that while the younger members of the family were at school in Adelaide, the two cleverest and best of them all should be so backward in school attainments. It was of less consequence for Jessie, but for Allan it was indeed a loss, that by the time his father could spare him he was too big and too manly to send to school. Louis and Fred Hammond used to report to their mother that Allan was the handiest fellow in the district, and had wonderful knowledge of stock and horses, and was a famous shot; but Mrs. Hammond discouraged the lad's visits to Branxholm, for she could no bear her boys to associate with such unpolished boorish clodpoles as the Lindsays must be. She was ambitious for her children, and especially for her sons, and she had ​such exaggerated notions of dangers of bad company in public schools, that she had preferred enduring the annoyance of having a tutor in the house to sending her boys away from her side. But there had been long interregnums of idleness between the very limited monarchy of the tutors in the Aralewin school-room, and she could not help feeling that they were very backward, and that they could not expect to make any figure in England, where she hoped to be able to take them ere long.
She was delighted a day or two before my story opens, at the receipt of a letter from her husband, saying that he had been so fortunate as to secure for his boys the services of a gentleman of higher attainments and of more agreeable manners than any who had ever been at Aralewin. Mr. Hammond had been favourably impressed by his Oxford degree of Master of Arts, and by his credentials from the editors of various journals and periodicals to which he had been a contributor; he almost feared that the situation was not good enough for him. When he had seen the little girl, who must be considered in the light of an incumbrance, he had been equally taken with her, and thought she would be an excellent companion for his bush girls, as her acquirements appeared to him to be astonishing. He offered ​that she should be treated in every way as a child of the family, and that no deduction should be made from the salary he was prepared to give on her account. Mr. Staunton closed at once with the offer, and Mr. Hammond was overjoyed at the result. He had written a hasty note to his wife on the subject, saying, that as he might not be at home on Wednesday, he would like her to send to the township for the new tutor and his little daughter. He had gone home by another route because he wanted to be present at ——— races, and he had just got home half an hour before the Lindsays' man, George, came with his bad news.
"So you did not stay for the land sale," said Mrs. Hammond; "the races were too attractive."
"I wish I had stayed; I never thought of Hugh Lindsay going so high, I left my limit with my agent, and he of course would not take the liberty of going beyond it, and writes me that he's sorry, and all that nonsense."
"Was Lindsay at the sale himself?"
"No. Allan was there bidding for his father. The old man puts great trust in that boy."
​"His family are some expense to him now. It costs something to keep four boys and girls at school in Adelaide. But are you not pleased about the tutor, Mr. Staunton?"
"Staunton?" said Mrs. Hammond. "I thought you wrote the name Stratton."
"Not Stratton; I wrote the name as plain as possible. It is a remarkably fine name—Gerald Staunton. You ought to be able to read my handwriting by this time."
"Gerald Staunton!" echoed the lady, "Gerald Staunton!"
"Yes, the author. You may have heard of him, as you are more bookishly inclined than I am."
"I really think, George, that you have been much too hasty in this matter. You ought to have consulted me before you definitely arranged to have not only one person, but two additional persons as inmates of my house."
"I have always engaged the tutors hitherto, Clarissa."
"Yes; but what torments they have been; and this is a double risk. Does this Mr. Staunton know anything about teaching?"
"There's his degree; there's no mistake about that."
"His degree will not make him a good tutor, ​if he has no been accustomed to teach, and besides, I look rather suspiciously on his degree. According to all I can make out, he is a man who ought to have got on, and who has not done so. Talent I dare say he may have, but if there is anything morally deficient, that is far worse. And to bring a strange girl to be a companion to my daughters! Who knows what habits and what principles she may communicate? You have not acted with discretion in this matter, Mr. Hammond."
"Why, my dear, you seemed as pleased as Punch at the idea, and now you turn round all at once. If the man has not been successful, is he the first clever good man who has not made money? And it was because his health gave way after his wife's death that he threw up his literary appointments in London, and tries the milder climate. He has been some years on the African Coast—Sierra Leone, I think—in his younger days, and that has told on him."
"Then we are to have an invalid to nurse," said Mrs. Hammond.
"No, not an invalid," said Mr. Hammond, testily.
"The voyage and the climate have done wonders for him, and he seems as sound as you ​or I; and as for the girl, she is the nicest behaved and the cleverest little thing I ever saw. You are sure to like both of them"
"If you had come home at once instead of writing me such an indistinct message to send Tom to the township for them, this might have been altered. If I had only known sooner—but you never can withstand anything in the shape of amusement or horseflesh. I am sure these races were worth nothing."
"The best country match I ever saw. I should have tried Highflyer there, though. He would have beaten Zoe and Mazeppa all to pieces. I would not have missed the sight for ten pounds. I like these country races; they keep up the English love of sport. Williams has a filly rising three; I must have it; it is the most complete little thing I ever saw, and would be the very thing for you."
"Is that by way of a sugar-plum?" said Mrs. Hammond. "Well, here I sit day after day; I see nobody—I go nowhere; I devote myself to your family; and I must say that I do not think the step you have just taken is an advantageous one."