# Oliver Spence/Chapter 5

CHAPTER V.
SAVED BY LOVE.
It was moonlight. In the garret; of a house apparently inhabited by poor people, there might have been discovered a young woman, poorly dressed, but with a sweetness of face and beauty of form which it was impossible for the poverty of her dress to entirely hide. She was weeping silently, and her finely moulded bosom heaved convulsively as she thought of the possible dreadful fate of her lover. For she loved an insurgent, and with an intense and passionate devotion of which she had hitherto considered herself incapable. The hour was late, and though her lover had promised to, if alive, send her a message assuring her of his safety, the appointed hour had passed, but no word had been received from him whom she loved.
What should she do? She would go to him.
So thinking, the young woman, hastily fastening a cloak around her superb form, and placing upon her head a tasteful but inexpensive bonnet, went forth into the streets. They were deserted.
The sombre beauty of the charred and desolated ruins of the portion of Sydney through which she passed was heightened by the wondrous pale splendor of the full moon, whose beams bathed in liquid silver, the courts and alleys of Sydney's poor. But the locality which once thronged with cringing, toil-distorted, haggard men, women, and children, was now-deserted save by the one solitary wanderer whom the reader has just been introduced to. The insurgents had literally carried out their demand—"The people, to the mansions, and the torches to the slums!' and the unhealthy disease-breeding hovels of the poor had been burnt to the ground, while their former inhabitants were now housed in the huge magnificent mansions at one time owned by the rich though frequently not occupied by them. Walking hurriedly along, our heroine at last found herself in King St. and was within a hundred yards of Macquarie St. when suddenly her naturally elegant carriage and remarkable beauty, attracted the attention of a band of nocturnal revellers who emboldened by her apparent timidity insisted on detaining her while she was made the recipient of a string of extravagant compliments. Not satisfied with this, one of the rowdies, disregarding her remonstrances and entreaties, would have snatched a kiss from her ripe ruby lips, when suddenly at tall stoutly-built young man, evidently not one of the revellers, rushed forward and pushed her would-be assailant violently side, addressing at the same time words of stern rebuke to the half drunken rioters who, recognising him, slunk, silently away.
The new comer was no other than Oliver Spence and on the young woman perceiving that it was indeed he, she fell, in a half-fainting condition, into his arms—for he was her lover. Our hero looked every inch the ​hero, the fire of genius flashed from his eyes, while his broad massive brow stamped him as a thinker, and his well-defined nose indicated that, he possessed sufficient force of character to enable him to carry his thoughts into execution.
With the aid of a little water from a neighbouring fountain, our heroine was quickly restored to consciousness, and on seeing that the roysterers had actually taken their departure, she looked languishingly at her lover and said:
"Are you then safe, my own dear Oliver?"
"Yes, safe, and what is more, victorious, my darling Mary: Take heart, dear love, for to-day our oppressors have received a terrible blow, and I have been placed in the position whereby I am entrusted with power, great power, power to carve out for Australia a great place among the nations of the world, and to render my name illustrious as a wise lawgiver and beneficent ruler"
On hearing these words from her loved one, Mary's bright hazel eyes looked the pride which she felt. As the lovers stood there in the moonlight, they looked a well-matched pair, he with his determined eagle-eyes and noble bearing, she with her fine form's graceful poise, which, with the sweetness of her face with its finely chiselled nose and dazzling white teeth, and her well-shaped head with its glorious crown of luxuriant brown hair, seemed to obtain added beauty and regal dignity from the pleasure with which she was filled by Oliver's words.
Mary pressed the hand of her lover, and walked slowly by his side, conversing with him in the language of lovers; and so absorbed in each other did Oliver and Mary become, that they failed to observe the actions of two ruffianly-looking men, who, keeping in the shadow of the houses, crept silently nearer and nearer to the amorous couple. They were armed with long sharp knives, and they carried them unsheathed in their hands.
Suddenly, with an oath, the bravos sprang upon the couple, and, felling Mary to the ground with a crushing blow, they turned their attention to Oliver, who, having been taken entirely by surprise, might have been there and then deprived of his life, had it not been or his great natural agility and enormous physical strength. Seizing the dagger of one of his would-be assassins, he wrenched it from his hand, and stabbed him to the heart. The bravo fell weltering in his gore and expired without a groan. Oliver then turned his attention to his other assailant, who, though somewhat unnerved by the fate of his companion, showed himself no mean antagonist, and proved himself a master of the art of wrestling, and a match for the man whose life he had determined to take. Oliver gripped the wrist of the hand which held his opponent's dagger, but found his own hand also held in a vice-like grip. The two powerful men swayed to and fro in each other's grasp, each thirsting for the blood of the other. Their veins stood out like whip-cord, and their breaths came hot, short and quick. Every trick known to the professional wrestler was in vain tried by Oliver, and he had almost begun to despair of success and to resign himself to his fate when Mary, who had recovered from the blow she had received, picked up ​from the ground where it had fallen, the loaded stick habitually carried by Spence, and struck his antagonist a violent blow at the back of the head.
He dropped like a log.
It was evident that the blood of the Amazons flowed in Mary's veins. Of such material were made those heroic women who, during the French Revolution, led the revolutionists against the palace of King Louis XVI at Versailles, of such material were made Joan of Arc, Sophie Perovskaya, and Louise Michel. As she stood over the prostrate form of the man she had struck down, her face flushed and her eyes flashing with unwonted excitement, Oliver could not repress his feelings of admiration.
"You are indeed fit to be the mother of the Gracchi," said he?
"Do not speak of me dear Oliver, tell me if you are injured."
"Not at all Mary, thanks chiefly to your courage and presence of mind. It would seem that the enemies of the people are adopting the same tactics now, as the same class did in the days of the ancient Roman civilization. Just as they then, hired assassins who murdered the Gracchi, the great reformers of that period, so our monopolists, hire creatures who for pay, would murder me, but they shall not find me as easily frightened as Cromwell was. I defy their vile machinations."
"I know, my darling, that you are not afraid," said Mary "but recollect that your enemies still possess gold, and there is scarcely anyone and anything but you, and I, and love, which gold cannot buy. Let us go home."
So saying she placed her hand in Oliver's arm, and the lovers hastened away in the direction of Mary's residence.