 CHAPTER XXIX The savage sells or exchanges his daughter, but in civilization the man gives his away and is thankful for the opportunity. Reflections of a Bachelor Girl Dawn took a great deal of her own way. Ernest and I were privileged to make suggestions so long as we were careful to remember our insignificance, and Grandma saw to it that her lawful rights were not altogether usurped. Occasionally it fell to my lot to act in a slightly mediatorial capacity, owing to the divergence of the swell wishes of the bridegroom elect and the plebeian determination of his grandmother in law to be, regarding the wedding celebrations, but Ernest was exceptionally unselfish and therefore very long-suffering. Dawn being underage, her grandmother came forward with a project that her father should be apprised of what was transpiring, requested to give his daughter away and to bring some of his side of the house to the wedding. Dawn raised vigorous opposition. It would be like my father's presumption to interfere in any way, considering his career with my mother. I hate him for a mean coward. He's the very style of man I'd be ashamed to acknowledge as an acquaintance, yet alone own as a father. I'd like to see him dare to give me away. He'd have to own me first. Well, Jake there will have to give you away then, said Grandma. I'd give him away with pleasure, replied Dawn, if I must be given away like a slave or animal. You'll give me away, Grandma, or I'll stay where I am. Who giveth this woman to be married to this man, the old person will ask? Why won't he also ask, who giveth this man, and if he, too, were only a chattel belonging to someone, that she would be disposed of by no one but her grandmother, rather pleased the old lady than otherwise, so she invested in yet another black silk gown, over which she was to wear a seldom-seen cape of point lace worked by Dawn's mother. And she also purchased a wonderful bonnet, and armed herself with a new pair of lastings. Thus, Dawn was to have her way in this particular, but the old dame adhered to her original intention in the matter of the Moodaheeps. I've kept him at bay long enough now, I'll just acknowledge him this once, or it will seem as if you was a illegitimate, said she in the plenitude of her worldly wisdom, and thereupon writ a stiff, though not discourteous letter to Dawn's father, inviting any number of the bride's relatives up to six to come and spend a week before the wedding in her home for the purpose of making Dawn's acquaintance. There, I have done me duty, and they can suit themselves whether they come or go to Halifax, she remarked as she dispatched the communication. They came. Dawn's father, his second wife, and his youngest sister, Miss Moodaheep, arrived three days before the wedding and remained to grace the ceremony. When being a mere girl, perhaps it was Ernest's wealth and position induced them to meet Mrs. Martha Clay's overture, for they were thorough snobs, but if they had come prepared to patronize, their intention was killed ere it bore fruit. The hostess hired the town bus to convey them from the station and dispatched Andrew, with many injunctions to conduct his self with reason, to meet them there, while she and Dawn waited to receive them in one of the old porches. It was a bower of roses and potted plants, and further shaded by a graceful pepper tree, and made a beautiful frame for the grandmother and the maiden. The old dame so straight and vigorous, the girl as rosy it and fresh as her name. But each equally haughty and bent upon, maintaining their iron independence of the people who had discarded the girl and her mother ere the former had been born. Personal appearance was much in their favor, and no practiced belle of thirty could have held her own better than the inexperienced girl of nineteen, whose native writ and downright honesty of purpose were more than equal to all the diplomacy of thrust and parry to be gained by living in society. Her stepmother, who was apparently as good-natured as she seemed brainless, was prepared to be gushing, but that was nipped in the bud by the way Dawn extended her pretty firm hand with the dimpling wrist and knuckles and exquisitely tapering fingers. Her father and aunt, who were tall and angular with thin faces of dull expression, met a similar reception, and she presented them to me herself, explaining that I was a very dear friend with her for the wedding. I had long since risen from a border to be a guest and friend of the house, and it had devolved upon me to exhibit the presence and interview the endless collars at this time of nine days wonder. It being hot the ladies retired to doff their hats, air partaking of afternoon tea, and Dawn took her father's hat while he trumpeted in his handkerchief and attempted a few commonplace platitudes from the biggest and stiffest armchair in the parlor into which he had subsided. I left the room, but could hear him from where I stood awaiting the lady's reappearance, one from the room that had been misflips and the other from the one I had at first occupied, and Mr. George Muteheap was to occupy the third one of these apartments, which had been empty since the tragedy. One my dear, you are your mother once again, he said with a sigh. I have never seen you, and now you are sufficiently grown to be married. Yes, said the girl, will you give me a kiss? I'd rather not. You see, you are only a stranger to me. I have never heard of you only as the man who was a monster to my mother. I never saw her, but I remember to love her for what she did for me, whereas you, what do you do for her and me? I would like you to understand how I feel on the subject so that there can be no mistake, said the girl honestly. Oh, well, I didn't come here to be told that, but to give consent to your marriage. Oh, said the girl, rearing the pretty head with its wealth of bright hair. As for that, I'm going to marry. If you like to exercise your authority, I'll run away, and you can't unmarry me. It is at Grandma's wish you are here. She said to let old bitterness sleep for the time you are here, and so I will now that I have explained that I utterly refuse to recognize that a father is anything but a stranger unless he discharges the responsibilities of the office. For the sake of the race, I maintain this ground. She concluded in words that had been put into her mouth by one of the speakers at Ada Grosvenor's election league, and the appearance of the ladies put an end to further contention. Dawn's judgments were remorseless, as becoming clean-soled, fearless youth has yet unacquainted with the great gulf-twix to the ideal and real, and untainted by that charity and complacence which, like senility, come with advancing years. The aunt was elderly and unprepossessing, and the stepmother of the type bespeaking champagne and too much eating for the exercise taken. For her head was partly sunk in a huge mass of adipose substance that had once been bosom. And the other proportions of her figure were in keeping. The cups were spread in the dining room. So thither we repaired to eat and drink, while representations of Jim Clay and Jake Sorrell Sr., who had wept for the sufferings of the convicts, glowered down upon the gathering of plebeians who were half-swells and the swells who were wholly plebeian. Presently, Grandma and I excused ourselves and left Dawn with her relations. What do you think of them? Are they any better than Dawn and me? Said the old dame as we got out of hearing. How do I compare with that old sack of charcoal? Aye, how did she compare? As a slight, active, handsome woman still vigorous at seventy-six, with one who, though thirty years her junior was already almost helpless from obesity and natural clumsiness, that's how she compared. Them some of the swells for you, one of the old families who think they're made of different stuff to you and me. What do you think of Dawn, Jim Clay's granddaughter, who drove the coach, when placed beside her aunt, the granddaughter of an admiral in the army? She looks as though Jim Clay had been a general in the navy and she had done justice to her heredity, I gravely replied. Andrew, come here and tell me how you managed him, and what you think of the great bugs now you've seen him. Commanded the old lady of that individual as he emerged from the kitchen with both hands full of cake, did you walk up to him and say, Are you Mr. and Mrs. Moodheep? I'm Mrs. Clay's grandson, like I told you. No, I seen it in their luggage without asking him. And one look at him was enough for me. I didn't bother telling him who I was. I didn't care if they fell down and broke their necks, the bloom and long nose old goats. I just took hold of their things and flung them up in the bus, and the old fat one, she says, Are you Mrs. Clay's groom? And I says, Mrs. Clay is my grandma. And she says, Oh! Well you might have introduced yourself a bit better to make things more agreeable, but they really are the untakenest people I've seen for a long time. Ain't I delighted that Dawn took after my side, and now though she's my own, do you think I'm overconceited to think her fit for the king's son? Certainly not, I replied. Or it would have taken a very estimable son of a king to be meat for this princess of the break of day, appropriately christened Dawn. End of Chapter 29. Recording by Brian Berkmeyer, Ann Arbor. Find more at soundcloud slash mgo birch. Chapter 30. Of some everyday folk and dawn. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Beth Thomas, Melbourne, Australia. Some everyday folk and dawn by Miles Franklin. Chapter 30. For further particulars, consult the Noonoon Advertiser of that date. That was a grand wedding celebrated in Noonoon ere the orange blossoms had turned into oranges. But for details it would be better to refer to that most reliable little journal, The Noonoon Advertiser. Only a few particulars remain in my mind, but the paper published a full account, including a minute description of the bride's gown and a careful list of the presents. It was much to the horror of Ernest that the latter was inserted, but it would have been much more horrible to Grandma Clay had the mention of so much as a jamspoon been emitted. So he consult himself with the reflection that it was only in the Noonoon Advertiser, and took care to keep the list out of the account which appeared in the Sydney dailies. The curious, by consulting a back number of the little country sheet, they learned that Mrs. L. Whitcombe, nay Carrie, the ex-lady help, gave the bride one of many pairs of shadow work pillow shams, and that Miss Grovner contributed one of the equally numerous drawn-thread table centres. Mrs. Bray presented a ribbonwork cushion, Dr. Smalley, some of the jamspoons, Andrew, a breadfork, and Mr. J. Sorrell, great-uncle of the bride, a silver cream jug, or Mr. Claude, alias Dora, U-word, kept himself in mind by an afternoon tea-set. The complete list took a column, and included dozens of magnificent articles from sporting associations and chums of the bridegroom. The bride, a glorious vision in duchess, satin, and accessories in keeping, and with real orange blossoms in hair, corsage, and train, the proud shyness of the gentle and stalwart groom standing beside her, and the brave old grandmother, drawn up a little in the rear, from the picture I shall never forget. The old lady performed her office with flashing eyes, a steady voice, and an individuality which none could despise or overlook. Accepting her grandmother, Dawn was unattended, and as the young couple came down the aisle, by previous request of the bride, I had the honour of accompanying the old lady from the church, and she said, as we drove away over the scattered rose petals to be in readiness to receive the guests, I have done it. Give me little girl away, and without misgivings, for if she's as happy as I was, she'll do. When the time was here, there was some patches of me life wasn't too soft, but looking back, I would marry Jim Clay over again if I could. The caterpillars that had been eating the grapevines, and giving Andrew exercise as destroyer, had turned into millions of white butterflies that flexed the gold sunlight like a vast flotilla of miniature aerial yachts, and enhanced the splendour of that balmy wording day. It was the month of roses, and intertwined with jasmine and mignonette, they formed the chief decorations in the roomy marquee erected for the breakfast under the big old cedars overlooking the river. All Nunu nights of any importance sat down to the repast, and their names, from that of Mrs Bray to Mrs Dr Tinker, are recorded in the Nunu advertiser. The last mentioned lady did not exhibit any of her famous characteristics at the function, further than to use a gorgeous fan she carried in wrapping her husband over the knuckles every time his attention wandered from her remarks. The toasts were many and long, and it fell to Dora Eewood to respond to that of the ladies. Since the announcement of Dawn's engagement to Ernest, Dora had frequently been seen out driving with Ada Grovner, and he paid her marked attention at the wedding, but this was private, not public information. After I had helped Dawn into her travelling dress, I had a few words apart with Ernest, while Grandma Clay paid a private goodbye to his wife. Well, he said with self-contained and pardonable triumph, I have won her in spite of that dish of water. Yes, we three have accomplished our desire. What three? Mr and Mrs Ari Breslauer and myself. Oh, was it your desire too? he said with a happy laugh. The bride now appeared, and ringing my hand she said, You'll come to us when we return. He stepped forward to place her in the carriage that took them to the railway. The paper had better be again consulted for an accurate account of the confetti pelting and other customary happenings that took place at the station. These details and the real greatness of Dawn's match, and her aristocratic relatives, who, as often suspected, had not proved to be only a myth, were the chief theme of the conversation for many days. All the engines in the sheds at the time and whose music had lulled me to sleeper nights, blew the bride a royal fanfare as she entered the first, engaged, and further cockadoodle-dood good luck as the train steamed out. Most keenly of all I remember that it was piteously lonely, and as dreary as though the sun had lost its power, when the panting engine had climbed the hill from the sleepy little town, and dropped out of hearing on the downgrade from the old valley of ripening peach and apricot, bearing the girl forever away from the slow meandering grooves of life of which her vigorous young soul was weary. A meeting of the municipal council claimed Uncle Jack that night. Andrew went over to discuss the situation with Jack Bray, and the loneliness of the old dining room was insupportable to Grandma and me. Joy and beauty seemed to have fled from the scented nights beside the river. Even the whistle and rush of the trains breathed a full-on note to my bereaved fancy, and there was a tear in Grandma's eye as she said, Well, she's really gone for all together. She that I helped into the world, and reared with my own hand, and named after the dawn in which she came. That's the order of life. It's always the same. You can't keep anyone for always. I couldn't bear it here now. It seems if everything in life was done, and there's no need for me to stay, if Ernest puts Andrew in the way of this electrical engineering he's so mad for. Jake can board somewhere. He don't care about things so much. I'll go to dawn. Thank God she wants me, and I've got plenty to take me away if she gets tired of me, as young folks often do of the old, which is only natural after all. I can sell or let the place, and when I'm gone it'll be enough for Dawn if ever she's through on the world like I was. Everything seems fair with her now, but this is a life of ups and downs, and there's no telling what may happen. LONVOY What interest can there be in a play after the night has settled affairs with the lady, or in the storybook when the heroine and hero have gone on a honeymoon, preparatory to living happily ever after? And that is what befell my tale in Noonoon. I listen no more to the splendid music of the locomotives, as they roar across the queer old bridge, nor watch the red light flashing from their coaling doors as they climb the blue mountain ascent and fire as they go. Their far-carrying rumble has been succeeded by the more thunderous voice of the sea on the rock-walled coast of my native land. Four months have elapsed since the wedding in Noonoon, yet Ernest is still content to let his athletic ambitions remain in abeyance while he squanders his time in the sweet dalliance of love. Squander, I say, but on reviewing the expired years, how sanely sweet the youthful hours we dallyed shine from amid the years we toiled, fumed, cursed, sweated, and strove to step past our brother in the bootless race for pleasure, opulence, or popularity. Being able to indulge in the insignia of wealth, even without being the good fellow he is, Ernest finds it of little significance that his hair is what fond mother's term, Orban, while dawn's triumphs were assured from the outset. As mistress of a fine town mansion, with good looks, with smart ideas of dress, and smarter ability to verbally hold her own in any set, it goes without saying that her grandmother having kept accommodation is not remembered against her to any harmful extent in everyday life, where a large percentage of folks in all cliques have to survive the knowledge of their progenitors having been worse things than irreproachable proprietors and conductors of most exemplary accommodation houses for those who travel. As Ada Grovner is not a girl in a book but in everyday life, I cannot record that she has married a man worthy of her. Such a one would have to be a leader of men, a prime minister, reformer, or other prominent worker in the cause of humanity. And as these do not abound in the quiet whirlpools of existence, I can only hope that she does not drop in for a too impossible noodle, as is frequently the fate of noble women. Dora Eeward would have done very well to discharge the clot-hopping work of her earthly journey, could have made her bread and butter and carried her parcels. But if I can depend on Andrew's letters, which breathe more heavily of generosity than of grammar and gracefulness, this eligible and strapping young member of Nounoun's society has been rejected a second time, so that Mrs. Bray's fears that he would be made over conceited by adulation from marriageable girls seems to have been unnecessary. Nounoun is enshrined in my heart as one of the pleasantest valleys on earth, so during enforcedly idle hours it has given me delight to paint its beauty, however feebly, and to put some of the doings of some of its folk in a story that others might possibly enjoy them too. But I put the manuscript aside till, as the good country doctor so much esteemed in his circle expresses it, I shall have pegged out, and the heroine and hero of the plot shall then judge whether it is fit or not for publication. It has interested me to write, but my life has crept so long on a broken wing that I come to be grateful at last for a little thing, and those whose lives are strong, fruitful and successful, may have no patience with the sentimental meanderings of an old woman who has outlived joy and usefulness. And now, may the lady of my tale, as her life progresses from dawn to noon, high noon to afternoon, dusk, evening and night, have the night of her choice and peace always beside her till new dawns break in other worlds beyond this place of fears and phantoms. The End. End of Some Everyday Folk and Dawn by Miles Franklin