Another day had passed, and a third had shed its light on Strawberry Hill, and still John Ferguson lingered there. It is true the inmates of the house pressed him to stay; but it required little pressing to induce him to continue a visit which was so grateful and congenial to his wishes. He had spent long hours in the society of the ladies, and had rambled with them through the shades of the bush. He was irresistibly spell-bound to the spot, though he professed to himself utter ignorance of any retentive influence. Despite his repeated personal assurances that he had no amative object or gratification in his partiality for the society of his new-made friends, it must be admitted that the presence and companionship of Miss Rainsfield had more attractions for him than he pretended to admit; though the fact that his heart was a little interested in the matter at last began to dawn upon his mind. It was in fact almost impossible for any man, whose affections were not pre-engaged, to live in the enjoyment of a contiguity with such a creature as Eleanor Rainsfield without feeling deeply the fascination of her cultivated mind, her charming person, and graceful unaffected manner. How much more susceptible of a loving impress, then, must have been the mind of John Ferguson, who retaining nature's freshness itself, at once perceived a kindred spirit in the fair cousin of Mr. Rainsfield.

On the other hand, the charming girl herself—young and inexperienced, early deprived of the guiding influence of her fond parents, and seldom mixing in society—had very rare opportunities of forming any opinion of the world or its motives; and knew not the accomplished art of dissembling her feelings, when the ice of her outward reserve had been once broken. The conversation and ingenuous manner of her companion pleased her, and she took an interest and pleasure in his society, which she had no idea of concealing. What her feelings were, at this period of her acquaintance with Ferguson, it were difficult to surmise; but, in all probability they were embraced in a friendly regard for him, whose mind and character she intuitively esteemed: a species of admiration, engendering a confidence in their friendly intercourse; and which in the breast of a young girl, actuated solely by the spontaneous actions of her own feelings, tends more than anything to beget a feeling of affection for the man who thus engrosses her attention. There is perhaps no friendship which produces so fond a recollection as this; and no feeling so likely to favourably impress a youthful and ardent-minded creature as that which induces her to pour her thoughts, without restraint, into the ear of him with whom she converses; even though they be the merest platitudes. That confidence, with which she is led on to unveil her soul, carries with it a regard which is indelibly impressed on her mind; and such was the feeling with which Eleanor regarded John Ferguson, though she too was unacquainted with the presence of any sentiment other than mere friendship; but we are anticipating.

As we have said, time was not stationary at Strawberry Hill, nor on the road; for on the day our narrative continues with, Tom Rainsfield made his appearance, with the intelligence that he had only a short time previously left William Ferguson on the road with his sheep; so that he might be expected to be at the crossing-place on the Wombi, within an hour or so. Tom was instantly introduced to John Ferguson; and volunteered, as soon as he had satisfied the calls of hunger, to return with him to the river, and assist in getting the sheep over.

The offer was thankfully declined by John, who assured the other, that he and his brother, with the assistance of their men, were perfectly adequate to the task; but it was generously persisted in by young Rainsfield; and, in a short time afterwards, the two were to be seen bending their steps to the crossing-place, which they reached about the same time that William and his flocks slowly wended their way to the river.

We have stated, at the first mention of his name to the reader, that Tom Rainsfield was a fine generous-minded young fellow. At the time of his arrival at Strawberry Hill, he had just finished a long equestrian journey, and was necessarily tired and fatigued; so that the readiness with which he proffered his assistance to the Fergusons was an instance of kindness, and an obliging disposition, which was his general character. He was dressed in the usual bush costume, viz, jumper, breeches and belt, riding boots, spurs, and cabbage-tree hat; and in his frank open countenance could at once be read the genuineness of his friendship. He was in truth a noble fellow; high-spirited and warm-hearted; bold and daring, though, perhaps, a little thoughtless and impetuous. His figure, though not decidedly tall, was of a good height, light and elegantly formed, and altogether was such as would command the admiration of the fair sex; while the facile freedom of his speech, the easy grace of his manners, and his gentlemanly bearing, were sufficient to insure the respect of his fellows, and to establish, on a lasting footing, the esteem of his friends.

During their short walk from the house the two young men had naturally fallen into conversation, and had, even in that limited period, become mutually attached to each other.

"I overtook your brother on the road," said Tom, in the continuation of a dialogue, "and, knowing it could be none other than he, I introduced myself, and we knew one another at once. He is a fine fellow, and just my style. If you don't favour us much with your company at our place I promise you you shall have enough of me at yours; for your brother and I will be sworn friends. He tells me, too, that he expects his sister is coming to place herself under your bachelor protection: is such the case? You have said nothing about it up at the Hill, or I think they would have told me."

"I made no mention of the circumstance," replied John, "to either your brother or his lady, as, as yet, it is by no means decided upon; for my own part, I hardly like the idea of bringing the poor girl out to this remote part of the country. I should prefer seeing it a little more settled first, though my brother William is madly anxious to get her out with us; she herself, I think, could be easily influenced either the one way or the other."

"Then by all means let her join you," cried Tom; "give William his way, and us the pleasure of knowing her. If there is any hesitation on your part, I will enlist the services of our women folk; and if they don't tease you into compliance before a month is over, it is a caution. Why, they'll be madly hilarious, when they hear the bare mention of such a scheme; they surely can't be aware of the fact of your possessing such a treasure as a sister, or I am sure they would be on to you at once to induce a visit from her."

"Under any circumstances, it will require some delay," replied John; "as we could not think of getting her to join us, until we had established some comfortable home to bring her to; and I fear it will be a considerable time ere that can be accomplished."

"That's easily managed," returned Tom. "Never mind your house; she can come on a visit to us until you get your place ready. I am sure our folks will be delighted to have her company. Eleanor will be a very suitable companion for her; and I am sure she will be an acquisition to Eleanor, who sadly wants a lively companion of her own age. I am confident your sister would dispel much of our cousin's settled melancholy, and make her see the sacrifice she is contemplating."

"I have no doubt the girls would suit each other admirably," replied John; "and if I think myself justified in asking my sister, and she can be persuaded to come out here, I doubt not they will soon become friends; but may I ask to what you allude by your cousin's sacrifice?"

"Simply marriage to one to whom she considers herself engaged," said Tom, "while, in my opinion, it is perfect folly; she is absolutely throwing herself away. I cannot bring myself to think she entertains any liking for the man, for I don't believe any intellectual woman could discover anything in him worthy of esteem. You are acquainted with him, though no doubt his character is better known to me than to you, for I have had more opportunities of observing it. It is Bob Smithers; and she has consented to marry him through the importunities of his sister-in-law. It appears Mrs. Smithers was an intimate friend of Eleanor's mother, and used to joke Eleanor about Bob; who, when a younger man, and when my cousin was a mere child, used to be particularly attentive to her; so, amongst them, a match was made up between the two. Since then Eleanor has seen very little of her betrothed; but his assiduous advocate, his sister-in-law, has continued to press his suit; and obtained from Eleanor a renewal of her pledge. In fact, the poor girl has been absolutely cajoled into an acceptance, as much from an ignorance of Bob's character, and a desire to gratify her mother's friend, as from any feelings of her own. I will do Mrs. Smithers the justice to say, I believe she does not know the extent of her brother-in-law's vileness; and that what she considers his little weaknesses, will be effectually rectified by a union with our Eleanor; but I don't like to see the poor girl sacrificed, and have a good mind to save her (if she would take me) by proposing to her myself; though I believe she thinks her word irrevocable, and will submit to Bob's claim as the fulfilment of a duty. I believe Smithers intends pushing his suit shortly himself; for when he disposes of another block or two of his country, he intends stocking the remainder of his runs with the proceeds of what he has sold, and settling down for himself. However, it will take him some little time before he can complete his plans, and if I can prevent his marrying Eleanor I will do so."

Tom Rainsfield continued conversing, or audibly soliloquizing in this strain, without noticing the abstraction into which his companion had fallen; and might have prolonged, even for an hour, his declamation against Bob Smithers, had not the current of his thoughts been arrested, and John Ferguson aroused from his reverie, by their being hailed from the opposite bank by William, who had arrived with the sheep.This was the signal for animation; and for hours all the party were busily engaged effecting a passage of the stream with the ovine mass; while the sun had just began to dip on the horizon, as the last of the animals passed the fluvial barrier.

"Now," said Tom, as he gazed upon the assembled flock on the Wombi's bank, "you had better let the men camp here with the sheep for the night, and you and William come up and spend the evening, and stop the night with us."

To this advice, however, there was one dissenting voice, and that voice was John's. He had, within the previous hour, lost the interest he had before experienced in a visit to Strawberry Hill; or rather, he now wished to avoid the place altogether. And yet his heart yearned for one of the residents; he desired to bask in the inspiring smile of his spirit's charmer; he felt a longing to gaze once more into the face of Eleanor Rainsfield, and read in her eyes, either the confirmation of his fears, or the entire repudiation of any such engagement as that mentioned by her cousin. Alas, poor John! he was hopelessly enthralled in Cupid's bondage, and he felt it; though his calmer judgment whispered to him an indulgence of such a sentiment was selfish and useless. If such an attachment, or even engagement (he thought to himself), did exist, and of that, from his friend's affirmation, he had no doubt, it must have been entered into with her consent, and evident approval; for by her cousin's account she was immovable, even to his entreaty; why, therefore, should he, almost a stranger, attempt to interpose himself between her and her evident inclination? Such were the thoughts that contended in his mind, when he wished to avoid the Hill, and take his departure at once with the sheep for his own station.

His brother, however, was differently disposed; he had travelled a long distance, and was pretty tired of his vocation; he knew that the animals could not travel much further that day, and if they proceeded another two or three miles they would have to halt just the same; while nothing would be gained, but the probability of having to camp with them. So, bushman though he was, he preferred comfortable quarters for the night, to a stretcher beside a camp fire. He therefore raised his voice against his brother's objection; and John was thus out-voted in the conclave, and compelled to submit to the over-ruling of his companions. They, therefore, made arrangements for the halt; informing their men that they would be with them on the morning by daylight; and then joined their friend, and sauntered towards the house.

From Tom the ladies soon learnt the scheme of the brothers with regard to their sister, and were importunate in their entreaties to hurry her arrival. John Ferguson, who had not recovered the despondency the communication of Tom had thrown him into, was quite bewildered with the badinage that was directed to him from all quarters during the evening, for his reluctance in bringing his sister out to the station. Mrs. Rainsfield affirmed that it was because he was such a confirmed bachelor, he could not bear the thought of being under a lady's dominion, even though it were his sister; while Tom declared his belief that Mr. Ferguson was afraid of presenting her, for fear that he, Tom, would effect a reprisal, and walk off with her. Even as it was, he said, he would not answer for himself; if Miss Ferguson was as charming as he fully anticipated she would prove, he thought he would enter into a compact with her brothers and secure her at once.

All this raillery and playfulness, was little heeded by John Ferguson, who remained particularly abstracted; so much so, that it became distinctly discernible, and the loquacity of his friends gradually subdued. As the conversation began to slacken, Miss Rainsfield raised her eyes from her work, and addressing their taciturn visitor in the sweetest possible voice, asked him if he would not allow his sister to remain on a visit with them for a short time, before she fixed her abode with her brothers; so as to give her an opportunity of settling herself in her new home, making her acquaintance with her neighbours, and affording them the pleasure of her society.

John was roused to consciousness by this appeal, and replied that he would be most happy to be the means of his sister cultivating and enjoying their friendship; but that if she made up her mind to live with her brothers at Fern Vale, she would be her own mistress, and have entire control over her own actions; so that the acceptance and prolongation of any visit would in a great measure depend upon her own whim. He said, however, from what he knew of her disposition, he had no doubt she would far prefer the agreeable society of such friends as Mrs. and Miss Rainsfield, to the dull monotony of a guardianship of two bachelor brothers.

The conversation, after this episode, brightened, and was continued in a pleasing strain for the remainder of the evening.

On the following morning, true to their word, the young men took their departure, and reached their station without the occurrence of an event worth recording; and for the next two or three days, they were fully occupied in the settlement of matters at Fern Vale. In the midst of a routine of business, John Ferguson had little time to think of matters relating to his feelings; but when the first bustle succeeded to leisure, his thoughts of Eleanor returned with redoubled force. He would then picture to his imagination her expressive features; he would dream of her abstractedly by day, and her form was the subject of his visions by night; and yet, though he thought her personal charms the perfection of frail humanity, his admiration was not so much for the outward fane, as the spirit that held dominion within. It is true his attention had been first arrested by her beauty; but the cause of those after feelings, which now consumed his soul, was the constant contemplation of her gentleness, amiability, mental accomplishments, and pure unsullied spirit. These were they which won his love, and secured his heart in a hopeless thraldom. In its empire he had established one sovereign, who was supreme, and that sovereign was Eleanor; his soul had but one idol, and the deity of this feticism was Eleanor; his mind had raised one standard of human perfection, and the motto of that standard, the excelsior of his fate, was Eleanor. The spirit of Eleanor was in every bush; her face smiled down upon him from every tree; the very birds seemed for the time, in his presence, to forget their natural utterance, and screamed in various tones of dissonance the name of Eleanor. And yet (he would think in his musings) this prize was not to be his; she was the cherished of another, to whom she had pledged her love. What then was left for him? Why should he entertain one thought of her? It was clear the possession of this treasure was never for him; then why should he allow her to retain dominion in his mind?

These mental interrogations he could not answer to his own satisfaction. He attempted to argue himself into a belief that he was mistaken in his feelings towards her; that she was not, in fact, the beacon towards which all his hopes were directed; but the sophistry failed to offer consolation to his wounded spirit, and he felt that he could not banish her from his thoughts: the task was hopeless.

Weeks passed away thus, without the occurrence of any event specially worth chronicling. Tom Rainsfield and William Ferguson had become inseparable friends, and were constantly together, either at the one station or the other; while John's visits to his neighbouring friends were short, and at remote intervals. His manner had become thoughtful and grave, and had not failed to attract the notice of his friends, from its contrast to his usual character. Shearing had commenced; and his mind, from the constant diversion of his thoughts, had partially recovered its wonted elasticity. His sister had expressed her willingness to join her brothers; and the dray having arrived from Alma, with the necessary materials to complete their dwelling, John had hurried on the carpenters with their work.

It was determined by the Fergusons that the dray then on the station, should go down to town with the first load of their wool; and that William should follow it, and procure furniture and other necessaries for it to return with. He was then to proceed to his father's house, take up his sister, bring her round to the station by way of Mr. Dawson's, and leave her at Strawberry Hill for a week or two, until the house at Fern Vale was ready for her reception. These various arrangements being completed; such as the despatch of the dray, the acquaintance of Mr. Ferguson at Acacia Creek of their plans, and the arrival of the other dray with supplies; William took his departure; and John, after he had despatched a second load of wool, rode over to Strawberry Hill to make a personal delivery of the salt he had borrowed from Mr. Rainsfield.

It had been some time since John Ferguson had paid his respects at Strawberry Hill, and his visit on this occasion was hailed with no little surprise, and possibly with a good deal of pleasure by more than one member of the family. Mrs. Rainsfield was particular in her enquiries, as to the cause of his continuing to seclude himself, and anxiously inquisitive for a solution of his mysterious melancholy. Eleanor was unaltered, either in personal appearance or her manner towards him; she entertained the same admiration, and though her heart whispered to her suspicions, that she was in some way connected with his dejection, she had no idea of the extent of his feelings' ravishment. At the same time she did not deem any secresy of her admiration essential to a compatibility with modesty. She found pleasure in the society of John Ferguson; liked his manner and person; and therefore threw into her reception of him, when they met, a warmth and cordiality, which, though only expressive of her own pure friendship, filled with ecstatic glow the very blood of her enraptured lover. She was, in fact, though unconsciously to herself, with the spirit she was investing in the mere exercise of common-place formalities, creating, or rather strengthening, a feeling in the breast of John Ferguson, which never could be eradicated; but which would, of a certainty, consume his life and spirits, if he were not blessed with a reciprocal attachment.

In the present interview, however, Eleanor did not join with the lady of the house in her playful badinage; indeed, it was not her usual manner; but she had eyes, and those eyes (differing from the followers of Mr. Irving) spoke in no unknown tongue, at least to John; to him they had the power of communicating in many languages, so that when she gave him a look, in which was embodied all she wished to convey, its meaning was instantly and rightly interpreted by our hero. If we were called upon to describe in words the tumultuous ragings of those elements that cleave the very mountains, lay prostrate the gigantic denizens of the forest, and make the earth tremble with the power of their agitation; if we were required to depict the falling avalanche, that sweeps in its course all vestiges of vitality from the face of the earth; or to form an adequate conception of the occult ramifications of the electric fluid, which is at man's pleasure made to compass the globe with the quickness of thought, we would confess ourselves incompetent. Equally so are we to describe the glance of a woman. Some looks there are, however, which, though inexplicable to uninitiated spectators, to those who cherish even a corruscation of mental light, speak volumes of information; and such it was that Eleanor cast upon John Ferguson. What was conveyed in that look we will not pretend to fathom; but simply affirm that its effect was an entire derangement of the love-sick swain's determination to forget the cause of his wretchedness, and a dispersion of every idea save the one ruling sentiment of love for her. Thus, in a moment, discretion was forgotten, and resolution cast to the wind; and he blindly satiated himself with deep draughts of love's ambrosia, without a moment's contemplation of the remote chances, or absolute impossibility of his ever possessing the fountain source.

Eve's fair daughters have always an eye for the discernment and evolution of love's mysterious workings; and often detect the existence of the tender passion, where the percipiency of their lords' mental penetralia fails to enlighten them on its presence. Hence, while Mr. Rainsfield never dreamed of John Ferguson being a rival of Smithers for the hand of Eleanor, and before she herself even thoroughly knew it, his weaker half had made the discovery with considerable delight and communicated the knowledge to her spouse.

By him the news was received in a far different spirit than was expected by his wife; and he at once remarked that he would take an immediate opportunity of warning his young friend against entertaining any feeling beyond friendship for Eleanor. He reminded his wife that the girl had voluntarily engaged herself to Smithers, and would therefore marry him; consequently, there was no use torturing Ferguson, by allowing him to cherish hopes which were not destined to be fulfilled.

"But why should they not be?" replied his wife: "I am certain he loves Eleanor, and am pretty sure that Eleanor loves him. That she does not entertain any such feeling for Smithers I am confident; she has been forced, more than otherwise, into that engagement with him, and the very thought of attaching herself to him for life is making her wretched. If you took the trouble to notice her, you would perceive with what pleasure she receives the attention of Mr. Ferguson; and I am convinced he has only to declare himself to receive an unqualified consent."

"Well, I beg you will not mention the subject to her," said Rainsfield; "so long as she remains engaged to Bob Smithers you surely do not intend to argue that it is proper for her to receive the attention of another admirer. If she refuses Smithers, then I can see no objection to her favouring the suit of our neighbour; but until then it were only madness to give Ferguson any encouragement. I shall warn him of his danger at once, and again request you to maintain silence to Eleanor on the subject."

"For my part," persisted the lady, "I don't think Smithers is entitled to such consideration: he rarely or never visits Eleanor; he shows her no attention; and takes it for granted his claims are indisputable, and that she is ready to accept him whenever it is his convenience to take her. If Eleanor had the slightest spirit in her nature she would scorn such a man; and I think it is entirely a false notion of rectitude that makes her adhere to the engagement."

"It may be in opposition to her happiness, my dear," replied her husband, "but it cannot be a false notion of rectitude, as you call it; it is rather rectitude in the strictest sense. She has been induced to accept Mr. Smithers, and to ratify it on more than one occasion; consequently, it is not for us to judge, whether she will be happy or not in such a connexion, but to leave her to her own free will and judgment; therefore, I say again, while this engagement exists, it is not right to allow young Ferguson to imagine he has any chance of acceptance."

"But I know he would not be refused," replied Mrs. Rainsfield.

"Dear me!" exclaimed the husband, "it is wonderful how you women will persevere in a cause that you interest yourselves in. There is no use in your reiterating that expression, however; for I tell you again, that John Ferguson must be cautioned against allowing himself to be carried away by his feelings; and I am confident, that when I point out to him the nature of his position, his good sense will enable him to see its untenableness, and cause him to desist from any pointed attentions."

Mrs. Rainsfield was a dutiful wife, and, however much against her own inclinations, she submitted to her husband's wishes; though she left his presence grieved and disappointed. She well knew that a match between Eleanor and Smithers would prove unhappy; while she was as fully certain that a union with John Ferguson would be as felicitous as any human connexion could be. We will not say that the spirit of match-making, inherent in the nature of all matrons, was wounded at its defeat; although she certainly cherished the idea of bringing the two young people together, it was not so much with the mere wish to be the means of accomplishing a ceremony, as to see them happy. For she had a sincere desire for the welfare of Eleanor, for whom she felt a compassion on account of her dependent condition, and an attachment for her virtues and affectionate manner to herself; besides the esteem, we have already said, she felt for our hero. She, however, determined, without a violation of her husband's commands, to sound Eleanor upon the subject of her engagement with Smithers; and if she perceived any disposition to break off on her part, to give John a hint of the probability of his success, if he renewed his suit.

In the meantime, Mr. Rainsfield took the opportunity of which he spoke to his wife, and communicated to John the utter hopelessness of his persevering in his attentions to the young lady; informing him that her affections were already engaged; and recommended him, for his own peace of mind, that he should banish all thoughts of an amative nature. Mr. Rainsfield further remarked, that he felt himself in justice bound to give his friend that caution, before he allowed any warm feeling to take a firm possession of his heart; at the same time, he assured him their conversation was unknown to the lady herself, as was also, so he had reason to believe, the state of his feelings towards her. Therefore, John need not consider the annihilation of his hopes of obtaining her hand, a decree of banishment from Strawberry Hill.

Before the conclusion of this little exordium John had become perfectly unconscious; and, at its termination, mechanically shook the hand of his interlocutor, while he took his departure. All the communication that he could comprehend, was, that it was intended to dispel all the bright illusions love's fancy had conjured in his mind. All his momentary visions of prospective happiness were swept away, like the misty canopy of the mountain before the morning breeze. His ariel palaces of imaginative grandeur, lay shattered at his feet; and he stood like the last of a defeated host, viewing destruction and desolation around him. His fondest hopes were blighted; he felt as one robbed of his very soul; he was wretched and dejected, and turned from the spot with the feelings of an outcast, an alien; or as a once powerful courtier, removed from the presence of his sovereign, to a perpetual expatriation. Strawberry Hill had for ever lost its interest to him; the only treasure it contained held out no prospect of possession. In his heart there was a blank, which nothing short of his idol could fill; but it was empty, and seared; and vacant was his mind, and miserable his feelings, as he leisurely journeyed on his way to Fern Vale. They were, in fact, such as can be better imagined than described; and when he reached his station, and delivered his horse to one of his men in silence, he went about his usual vocations as one almost destitute of reason.

What the feelings of the lady most concerned were, had they been consulted, we can well understand; but we must refrain from indulging in anticipations. The manner of John's leave-taking, had struck, with no little amazement, all those who saw him. Mrs. Rainsfield was the one, who, conjecturing its cause, could best appreciate his feelings; she pitied him, and secretly determined, that if he and Eleanor were to be for ever separated, it should not be for want of strategy on her part. She felt that not only his happiness, but the girl's too, depended upon their union; and she considered her husband had taken too strict a notion of the engagement with Smithers, who, she believed, thought very little of it: therefore, Mrs. Rainsfield concluded, very little manoeuvring would break it off; and so determined to devote her energies to such a consummation.