Page 18 of My Brilliant Career

I do not believe in spurning the love of a blackfellow if he behaves in a manly way; but Frank Hawden was such a drivelling mawkish style of sweetheart that I had no patience with him.

Aunt Helen and Everard had vacated the drawing-room, so I plumped down on the piano-stool and dashed into Kowalski’s galop, from that into ‘Gaîté de Coeur’ until I made the piano dance and tremble like a thing possessed. My annoyance faded, and I slowly played that saddest of waltzes, ‘Weber’s Last’. I became aware of a presence in the room, and, facing about, confronted Everard Grey.

‘How long have you been there?’ I demanded sharply.

‘Since you began to play. Where on earth did you learn to play? Your execution is splendid. Do sing “Three Fishers”, please.’

‘Excuse me; I haven’t time now. Besides I am not competent to sing to you,’ I said brusquely, and made my exit.

‘Mr Hawden wants you, Sybylla,’ called aunt Helen. ‘See what he wants and let him get away to his work, or your grannie will be vexed to see him loitering about all the morning.’

‘Miss Sybylla,’ he began, when we were left alone, ‘I want to apologize to you. I had no right to plague you, but it all comes of the way I love you. A fellow gets jealous at the least little thing, you know.’

‘Bore me with no more such trash,’ I said, turning away in disgust.

‘But, Miss Sybylla, what am I to do with it?’

‘Do with what?’

‘My love.’

‘Love!’ I retorted scornfully. ‘There is no such thing.’

‘But there is, and I have found it.’

‘Well, you stick to it — that’s my advice to you. It will be a treasure. If you send it to my father he will get it bottled up and put it in the Goulburn museum. He has sent several things there already.’

‘Don’t make such a game of a poor devil. You know I can’t do that.’

‘Bag it up, then; put a big stone to make it sink, and pitch it in the river.’

‘You’ll rue this,’ he said savagely.

‘I may or may not,’ I sang over my shoulder as I departed.

12 ONE GRAND PASSION

I had not the opportunity of any more private interviews with Everard Grey till one morning near his departure, when we happened to be alone on the veranda.

‘Well, Miss Sybylla,’ he began, ‘when I arrived I thought you and I would have been great friends; but we have not progressed at all. How do you account for that?’

As he spoke he laid his slender shapely hand kindly upon my head. He was very handsome and winning, and moved in literary, musical, and artistic society — a man from my world, a world away.

Oh, what pleasure I might have derived from companionship with him! I bit my lip to keep back the tears. Why did not social arrangements allow a man and a maid to be chums — chums as two men or two maids may be to each other, enjoying each other without thought beyond pure platonic friendship? But no; it could not be. I understood the conceit of men. Should I be very affable, I feared Everard Grey would imagine he had made a conquest of me. On the other hand, were I glum he would think the same, and that I was trying to hide my feelings behind a mask of brusquerie. I therefore steered in a bee-line between the two manners, and remarked with the greatest of indifference:

‘I was not aware that you expected us to be such cronies — in fact, I have never given the matter a thought.’

He turned away in a piqued style. Such a beau of beaux, no doubt he was annoyed that an insignificant little country bumpkin should not be flattered by his patronage, or probably he thought me rude or ill-humoured.

Two mornings later uncle Jay-Jay took him to Gool-Gool en route for Sydney. When departing he bade me a kindly goodbye, made me promise to write to him, and announced his intention of obtaining the opinion of some good masters re my dramatic talent and voice, when I came to Sydney as promised by my grandmother. I stood on the garden fence waving my handkerchief until the buggy passed out of sight among the messmate-trees about half a mile from the house.

‘Well I hope, as that dandified ape has gone — and good riddance to him — that you will pay more heed to my attentions now,’ said Mr Hawden’s voice, as I was in the act of descending from the fence.

‘What do you mean by your attentions?’ I demanded.

‘What do I mean! That is something like coming to business. I’ll soon explain. You know what my intentions are very well. When I am twenty-four, I will come into my property in England. It is considerable, and at the end of that time I want to marry you and take you home. By Jove! I would just like to take you home. You’d surprise some English girls I know.’

‘There would be more than one person surprised if I married you,’ I thought to myself, and laughed till I ached with the motion.