All That Glisters

Three

Mr O'Bryan's visits were the highlight of the month, and Dunedin felt wetter, windier, and colder after he left. Rose struggled with snail depredations and weeds in the vegetable garden, did the shopping, cooked, cleaned, sewed in the evenings, and woke earlier and earlier with the lengthening day, to read a little in the dawn light before another day of unrelenting work.

From time to time, but perhaps not more than a dozen times a day, she wondered how Mr O'Bryan was faring in Dunstan and whether he would, indeed, call on them when he returned to Dunedin.

Then, suddenly, in early December, he was there again, falling into step beside her as she walked from Knox Lane to George Street on her way shopping.

"Good morning, Miss Campbell. May I carry your basket?" He was taking it from her as he spoke, his impish grin robbing the gesture of any offence.

"You're back," Rose said. What a foolish thing to say, but her wits had taken flight at his presence.

"I am. And do I find you well?"

She stammered something, trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

"And did your business prosper, Mr O'Bryan?" she managed.

"It did, thank you. The first cartloads of goods sold before they reached Dunstan. I've taken on two more assistants for the tent store and a building to house Rourke and O'Bryan is going up in Hartley Township, as we speak. All is going well there, and so I've come to attend to business at this end of the trail."

Rose looked around her, wondering what business he found in this mainly residential area, and he must have guessed her thoughts, because he said, "Today, I am taking an afternoon's holiday. I was on my way to visit you when, behold, here you are walking toward me. Dare I hope to escort you the entire afternoon, Miss Campbell?"

She smiled her consent, all at once feeling giddy. But someone might see them and report to her uncle! Well, what of it? She would still have the memory of the afternoon—a little treasure to take out and enjoy when he was gone, and she was alone.

He threw himself into the shopping with enthusiasm, debating the merits of various meats, solemnly inspecting vegetables, giving his view on the best threads to match and contrast with the cushion cover she was decorating.

When she hesitated over some bonnet trimmings, yearning for a confection of silk flowers and feathers, he offered to buy them. She blushed at the scandalous suggestion, but was not as displeased as she should be.

"No, indeed, Mr O'Bryan. My uncle would never allow me to wear any bonnet they would make. I will have three yards of the brown ribbon, please," she told the assistant.

Mr O'Bryan subsided, but his next suggestion was that they should take tea at the Empire Hotel. Rose hesitated. Anyone might walk together when out shopping, but to take tea with a man at his hotel was surely a wanton act. Or so her uncle would say, in any case.

At that moment, they passed Hackerton's Emporium, and even from the footpath, she could hear the man her uncle intended her to wed berating an unfortunate employee.

"Very well, Mr O'Bryan," she said. Another memory to cherish. Why not?

She had passed the tea rooms at the Empire on several occasions, but never thought to enter. She felt very grand sitting at one of their white-linen-covered tables, with a tiered cake plate of toothsome delicacies and a dainty china cup full of fragrant tea. And a handsome, charming, attentive escort, who kept her entertained with stories of people in the burgeoning boomtown at the Dunstan.