"Thank heaven, they are all despatched," he said, fervently, leaning over the back of her chair; "look around at me, dear, and tell me I am welcome."
"You are;" and turning her face, her cheek was brushed by his whiskers; "but I am going to be very proper, and tell you to take that very comfortable chair, at the other side of the room."
"Why, what have I done; don't send me away, when my heart is bursting to take you in my arms."
"With your temperament, how full, metaphorically speaking, your arms must be."
"No, no; you only, with your warm eyes and handsome mouth."
"Come, come; no more of this, Mr. King."
"Since when have you dropped Cyril; I cannot bear my surname from your lips."
"'Tis safer so; and youknowI have tried to act up to this, since knowing you have a wife."
"Yes, yes, you have; but you magnetized me from the first, and had it not been for that meddling fellow, Dubois, telling you, I believe, dearest, you would have learned to love me, wholly, and alone."
"Thank heaven he did tell me, and in time."
"I think there has been every excuse for me, dearest; you are aware of the circumstances of my marriage; then, after fifteen years ofsuchwedded bliss, I find you, my heart's mate. I often think how tame life is before the meeting with the one that is to fill one's being with rapturous content; well, if they come to one while one has one's freedom, if not, what miserable loneliness; what an array of jealous fears. Do not turn me out of some corner in your heart, Elaine," he pleaded, "just because the Church and the law come between us; it is no fault of mine that I have met you too late to offer you my name; therefore, pity my misfortune, be kind to me; give me a corner in your affections; you will, won't you, darling," he pleaded, earnestly, his winsome voice coming on the air like sweet notes of song to the accompaniment of 'Il Trovatore,' exquisitely rendered, by Miss Crew, across the hall.
"You must never again talk to me in this strain, Cyril," she says, putting her feelings aside, for she pities him intensely; "it is harmful for both of us; be a man, be brave. I, too, have trials; help me to bear them by seeing you at the post of duty; let us forget that we have hearts; let us harden ourselves by looking at life teeming with ill everywhere.
"Let us, from this moment, begin over again, and talk as though the room was full of a gaping crowd; let us talk of anything but ourselves. Of Chamberlain and the fisheries; of who will run for mayor; of how that hot pickle, the French cabinet, will be formed; of whether Bishop Cleary wishes he had been tongue-tied before his imagination went without bit or curb on our girls;anythingbutourselves, Cyril, for pity sake."
"No, it will not do, dear; we can never be as common acquaintances, though you charm me in any mood."
"Very well; if that be so, you must go. Those songs, without words, by Miss Crew, with the scent of flowers, have been enough to intoxicate one; but youknowthat since the knowledge came to me of your having a wife, that I have told you, repeatedly, our acquaintance must end unless you always remember, in our intercourse, the fact of your being bound to another. If you care to meet Mr. and Mrs. Dale, and a young lady friend, stay to luncheon, if you will not more than look at me as a friend—for I will be that."
"I cannot face strangers now, and shall go, but shall write you from the west; and pray let me have a line in answer, saying you will see me on my return?" he said, beseechingly, his handsome face clouded.
"I see I must tell you something I had not intended," she said, nervously, "they are coming downstairs to luncheon; I have promised, nay, am under oath," she said, gravely, "to marry a man who would make trouble, did he hear your words."
"For heaven's sake, Elaine, don't be mad! you would be wretched, chained to a man like that; for the light has all left your dear face, even when you name him."
"Beg pardon, luncheon is served, ma'am," said Thomas.
"I must hasten to the dining-room, and I fear I don't look very calm. Good-bye; remember and be brave; others there are who have no more a bed of roses than yourself."
"God bless you, good-bye; and I implore you, sayNoto him. I speak, as you know, from experience," he whispers, with a tight hand-clasp.
"Your visitor is a strikingly handsome man, Mrs. Gower," said Mr. Dale, coming from the window to the table; "we shall be losing you one of these days as—Mrs. Gower," he continued, noticing by her pallor and the light in her eyes that she had been feeling intensely.
"He is wondrously so; and as well, what is more perilous to the hearts of our sex, he possesses a rare fascination of manner."
"I have been telling Henry not to jump at conclusions, for, perhaps Mr. King is married," said Mrs. Dale, curiously.
"He is, dear; but your husband is not one of those absurd beings who imagine all one's men friends to be possible suitors."
"Far from it, Mrs. Gower: I am a believer in men and women friendships, and if, in the numerous mistakes society makes, she would obliterate her opposition to such friendships, she would have fewer matrimonial blunders to chronicle."
"That is very true, Mr. Dale; I have frequently found it both mortifying, distressing and annoying to the last degree, at little social gatherings at Toronto, to find myself openly accused of flirtation, because some man friend and I dared to enjoy atête-à-têtechat on some mutual topic of interest."
"But some women do flirt when they get a man in a corner, whether he is married or no," said Mrs. Dale.
"Yes; but because some do, we should not all drift as we are, into no conversation between the sexes," said Mrs. Gower.
"No, certainly not," said Dale; "Emerson says, 'I prize the mechanics of conversation, 'tis pulley, lever and screw;' and it is especially delightful between men and women—when it occurs."
"Yes, as you say—when it occurs—Mr. Dale; but why is it, that the more solid tone of conversation of men is so seldom blended with the, at times more refined, even if it be more frivolous, chit-chat of my sex? Simply because of our dread of gossip?"
"Then there is something 'rotten in the state of Denmark,'" said Mrs. Dale.
"There is, dear," said Mrs. Gower, gravely, rising from the table.
"Mr. Smyth is in the library, ma'am," said Thomas.
"Oh, ask him if he has lunched, Thomas."
"He has, ma'am."
"I am vulgar enough to have dined, Mrs. Gower," said Smyth, meeting them at the door of the library.
"As you please," she said, gaily, giving her hand; "'let ilka ane gang their ain gait.'"
"Your son is acting on that motto, Mrs. Dale," he said, looking from the window. "Don't stir, he is in the back way; and has evidently been wrestling with our York mud."
At this juncture Garfield appeared, breathless; and his pretty Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers all be-spattered.
"How did you come to grief, my son?" asked his father.
"Well, papa; first, I knocked down a sparrow with my catapult; it died game, falling on a foreign bird perched on a lady's steeple bonnet. Well, she was mad, phew! called me names for killing birds. I told her not to try to be funny, when she had stuffed ones on her head-dress. Next, I saw a man down street putting a mouth on his poor horse; man! how he sawed, tore the bit nearly through his head; well, I just let another lead fly, knocking his Christy stiff into the mud; then, he out of his butcher waggon and after me. I remembered some dimes in my pocket, got 'em, threw 'em behind—he bit, and I took my chance and distanced him," he said, panting for breath.
"That was sport," said Smyth, laughingly; "but I have had to shut down on my boy's hunting, we swell our city treasury by fining such fire-arms."
"Go to the kitchen, you poor little man," said Mrs. Gower; "and ask Thomas to brush you; he will get you some lunch, there is mud even in your curls; here, let me kiss you."
"Yes, you may," he said, condescendingly.
"Come along, son; mother will go with you."
"You don't ask what brought me in at this hour, Mrs. Gower," said Smyth.
"No, I have scarcely welcomed you, as yet."
"Well, I must out with it, even if it shortens my stay; for I have only a few moments. On my way up to dinner, I literally ran against King, he was in a brown study, and I in a hurry. 'Hello!' I cried, at which he stopped, and quite abruptly (so unlike him), said, 'Tell Mrs. Gower I have heard from Mr. Cole, senr., who has been ill at Montreal. His physician, Dr. Peake, ordered him to Florida, positively forbidding him to pass the cold season at Ottawa. He is extremely anxious about Charlie, who has not written him. A newspaper, with the announcement of his marriage, being the only communication from Bayswater direct;' and here it is, he gave it me for you. From some outside source he has heard that Charlie is ill, and wishes any of us to let him know immediately at his hotel, Jacksonville, if we have, or receive any news. He admits to King, that with the exception of the girl herself, the remaining members of the family Charlie has married into are a bad lot."
"Poor Charlie, he dreaded this marriage," she said, regretfully; "but seemed to be hemmed in by circumstances—a betrothal. Then she had five thousand pounds per annum, and his father wished him to carry it out; and Charlie is so yielding, altogether. When he told me about it, at the very last, I too advised him to go and carry out the arrangement. You see, as we know he was heart whole, and his salary was small, and he seemed born only to work the will of others, that it seemed a half natural sort of thing for him to drift into; still, if he is ill, and the family are horrid, and he over there alone, I feel sorry he went at all, poor fellow."
"A miserable marriage would break Charlie Cole up completely," said Smyth.
"Have you no mutual friend at London," said Dale, kindly, "to whom you could apply, and who might give you the facts of the case. Perhaps I can assist you. You told me before, Mrs. Gower, that it is to Bayswater suburb, your friend went; I knew a very prominent physician residing there, to whom I shall write, if you wish; a medical man is very often the very best medium in such cases."
"Oh, if you would, Mr. Dale; it would be a perfect relief to all of us," said Mrs. Gower.
"Here is the marriage insertion," said Smyth, reading: "'At Broadlawns, Bayswater, London, England, on September 28th, 1887, by the Rev. Claude Parks, Charles Babbington-Cole, Esq., of Toronto, Dominion of Canada, to Margaret, daughter of the late——"
"What's that! Miss Crew has fainted, poor girl," cried Mrs. Gower, "and hurt herself, I fear; there is water in the dining-room."
"I'll get it," cried Smyth.
Mrs. Dale, returning, said, "I wonder what caused it; she is delicate, I know, but I never knew her to faint before. My vinaigrette is on my dressing-table; would you get it, Henry, like a dear?"
"Thank you, Mr. Dale, she revives."
"Then I shall go, Mrs. Gower; and here, I shall leave the English newspaper with you; Lil wants you all to come over this evening, then we can talk over some plan—Mr. Dale's is a good one—to elicit information as to Charlie's position; Miss Crew is to come, too. Good-bye till evening."
"You had better go upstairs and lie down, Miss Crew; you look very white, and I fear you have hurt your head, poor girl," said Mrs. Gower, kindly.
"I did give it a knock, but you are all too kind; if it won't make any difference, I shall lie here for a few minutes."
"Very well, dear; and a glass of wine will be good for you."
"Oh, she never touches it, Elaine, she is rabid blue ribbon," said Mrs. Dale.
"And a very good color to wear, but when one is ill," said Mrs. Gower.
"Never mind the wine, Mrs. Gower, my head aches very badly, but all I want is to rest it a little; but shall feel very uncomfortable, though, if I delay your out-going; do go now."
"Yes, I suppose we must."
"Garfield, you stay with Miss Crew, darling, while Mrs. Gower dresses, and I put on my wraps."
"All O. K., mamma." After a few moments spent with 'The Pansy,' he comes over to the sofa.
"Miss Crew, Miss Crew; wake up."
"I was not sleeping, dear."
"But your brows were knit like this; and you looked so white. What did you faint for? I wanted you to come with us."
"Oh, never mind, don't talk about me; I want you to give me your catapult."
"Yes, I reckon I will, as young Smyth had to give his up; but I should like it if I get mad at a man for ill-treating his horse."
"But a better plan would be to read the name of the owner on the vehicle, and report him."
"Oh, that's too slow; when a fellow gets mad, he wants to let a lead fly right then," making a movement as if he was firing.
"Oh, but that is not the best way, my boy; the wise men of old waited until they were out of their temper."
"We don't; we just go, bang! but it was pretty good of them, I reckon. What did they say right at first, though?"
"They said, when the evildoer was brought before them, having done them a great wrong, 'By the gods, were Inotin wrath with thee, I would have thee slain.'"
"Well, I guess that was noble of them; I reckon my catapult must go," he said, fondling it, "and here goes," he said, putting it into the fire; "but as I don't want to hear it hissing me, I'll put a finger in each ear."
Here Mrs. Gower, with Mr. and Mrs. Dale, entered, robed for the outer world, looking comely and comfortable. Mrs. Gower in blue, broken plaid skirt, with plain over-skirt, and waist of same color, bonnet to suit, tight mantle, with fox boa and muff. Mrs. Dale in plum color, with seal mantle; both women with the hue of health on cheek and lips, and with bright eyes.
"Come, Garfield, my son, into your overcoat with the speed of a New York despatch," said his mother.
"It seems too bad to leave you, Miss Crew," said Mrs. Gower, sympathetically; "are you sure I can do nothing for you before we start?"
"Quite sure, thank you; my head aches a little, but I have some Dorcas work here, which will make me forget I have a head, I hope."
"Then you will be rewarded;au revoir, dear."
"And now for the tree of knowledge," said Mrs. Dale.
After visiting the Wellesley and other city schools, the Church School for boys, the Collegiate Institute, Jarvis Street, and the Upper Canada College, they decided to place him at the latter, principally on account of the boarding school; they being, at present, unsettled as to their future plans.
"Your city schools are admirable, and were we actual residents, housekeeping, I should ask nothing better for my boy. Some of your finest public men, I am told, Mrs. Gower, have sat at those desks."
"Yes, so I have always heard; but I think, in Garfield's case, you have acted wisely. A boy coming from school to hotel life, has every incentive not to study."
"Yes, that's just it. At the U. C. College, the example will be there in the other boys at their books, and I consider it a great boon to be able to place him under such management. The masters are talented gentlemen; and if a boy does not make something of himself under such guidance, mentally, morally and physically, then he must be made of very poor stuff, indeed."
"Garfield, dear," said his mother, "you will have to be as starched as a Swiss laundry, minding your p's and q's, like an Englishman."
"Oh, yes, I know; but they are the stuff, mamma. You see they give a fellow cricket, and drill, as well as book knowledge."
"Yes, they are wise; you will study all the better. See that you make a man of yourself while there," said his father.
"I shall never forget my goal, papa."
"And what is that?"
"To be President Dale, of the United States of America; and I reckon, when I run, my opponents won't have any dirty stories to rake up about me, for I'm going to begin right now."
"But they frequently coin falsehoods. What would you do in that case?"
"Put mamma on their trail; have 'em up, and make 'em swallow or prove them."
"All right, my ten-year-old; mother will be your right hand man," she said, endearingly.
"I expect the lies men have to face in the arena of public life are their worst foes," said Mrs. Gower. "Beecher said, 'If the lies told about public men could be materialized, they would roof in and cover over the whole earth.'"
"He spoke feelingly," said Mr. Dale; "Dames Rumor and Grundy, with the newspapers, had him in a tight place."
"Shall we go on further, Henry, and purchase the mattress, etc., for Garfield?"
"No, I think not, Ella; I have to meet Dickson, from New York, at the Walker House, at six; can't you come in the morning, dear?"
"Oh, yes."
"Do you dine with your friend, Mr. Dale?"
"Yes; so we arranged."
"Then you come back with me, Ella, and this wee man, of course?"
"Yes, if we don't weary you."
"You know better, dear. Oh, Mr. Dale, will you kindly go into Mr. Smyth's office, and say we find it impossible to go over this evening, but will to-morrow—sans ceremonie, if agreeable."
"Consider your commission executed, dear Mrs. Gower. I shall drive up for you, Ella, this evening some time;au revoir," and, lifting his hat, he is gone.
After a delightful walk through the busy streets, from the Upper Canada College, by way of King Street West, thence north to Holmnest, they find Miss Crew a little quieter, perhaps, but apparently quite recovered from her recent swoon. Putting aside her Dorcas work, the three ladies sit in the firelight and gloaming, to chat until dinner hour.
"I regret you were not with us, Miss Crew; the schools would have interested you," said Mrs. Dale.
"Yes, I am sorry, too; for ever since our arrival I have heard so much in praise of the city schools, especially."
"Their praise is ever in our mouth," said Mrs. Gower; "but my views on the subject are somewhat contradictory. Though going with the progress of the age, I don't feel quite sure that this mixing up of the children of the rich and poor is to the ultimate good of either."
"Oh, I think it's better, Elaine, to bundle them all in together."
"I don't know, Ella; the Industrial School system recommends itself very much to me for the poorer classes, among whom, if there is any originality, it will out."
After dinner, to which Mr. Cobbe, coming in as it was announced, made one at, Miss Crew, not feeling quite herself, begging to be excused, retired to her room, and Garfield into the arms of Morpheus on the lounge; when, during a temporary absence of Mrs. Dale, Mr. Cobbe said, quickly, while laying a hand on either shoulder of his hostess:
"What do you have that woman here all the time for? If she is going to spend the evening, I shall go."
"Were I Mrs. Ruggles, of Pickwick fame, I should object to my friend being called a woman," she said, half jokingly; "as it is, I——"
At this moment some pebbles were thrown against the window, cracking the glass. Mrs. Dale, now returning, said:
"What! is it the window fired at? Things are coming to a pretty pass," she said, with latent meaning; "We should have closed the shutters; don't, Elaine, I shall do it."
"I had better go out and frighten away the tramps," said Cobbe, his face flushing with angry impatience.
"Yes, Philip; if you will be so kind."
"You are a gentlemanly man, and a good looking one, Mr. Cobbe; but I don't love you," said Mrs. Dale, emphatically, shaking her clenched fist after his retreating form.
Mrs. Gower could not but smile at her little friend's vehemence, as she played with the bracelets on her shapely arms, her head bent in thought.
"Thomas is a good servant, Elaine; he has just fastened the hall door on the heels of Monsieur Cobbe; and now,ma chere, this is the time and place for confidence," she said, earnestly, while laying her jewelled fingers on her friend's brown locks.
"Yes, dear, draw over your rocker, he will not return, and since you are willing, I shall pour my griefs into the lap of your mind; seeking, as you say, to lessen the dead weight on my own.
"Just about this time last year, not so late though, for the trees were lovely in tints of deep orange and crimson, with the brown of the oak. Our beautiful suburbs, with the Queen's Park, looking like huge bouquets in the hands of Dame Nature; you know my passion for scenery, Ella. One day—a bright and glorious day, it had been—the blue sky, almost out of sight, it was so uplifted; a day sufficient to raise one's spirits as by some powerful stimulant, I was returning from town to my modest quarters (not here you know, dear), about four p.m., through the park; when, Mr. Cobbe overtaking me, suggested our going up into the tower of the Toronto University to enjoy the view. I consented, knowing that the slanting beams of the sinking sun would kiss good-night to the tree-tops, lighting them with additional loveliness. We entered the grandly beautiful building, the janitor, unlocking the door to the tower, reminding us of the rule, "keys turned at five." Up, and ever upwards, the spiral stairway, making one dizzy in the ascent; at length, the top is reached; and, oh! the view, Ella, was more than beautiful. My eyes only rested with a passing glance at the handsome villas skirting the park, ever returning to dwell on the superb mass of color in the trees; the sun seeming to linger lovingly while photographing their shadows upon the grass.
"I sat silent, or nearly so, for some time, when somehow the very air seemed full of such quiet, solemn grandeur, that thought becoming active, travelled in and about by-gone scenes and faces, bringing tears to my eyes, as a strange fit of loneliness came upon me.
"I was just in the mood to say yes, to a proposal to link my life with another, when Philip Cobbe pleaded his suit, saying, 'In a home together we would be companions each for the other; that we would be happier in a little home together than in the cold formality of a boarding-house; that in our short acquaintance, we knew each other as well as people who had a life-long knowledge of each other; that we were each too warm-hearted to be content alone; that the long, dark autumn was coming on, in which we would be all in all to each other; that his love for me filled his heart.'
"Then, Ella, he was really eloquent in his description of a little home together—a picture particularly inviting to me in my loneliness and in my despondent mood.
"I had been, as you know, under fortune's wheel, season after season, in the ice-bound winter, in the scorching sun of summer; sometimes in doubt in which I suffered most. With a purse as 'trash,' society turned a cold shoulder to me. Summer friends did not see me; my real friends at a distance—yourselves among the foremost—could not prevail upon me to visit them, as I knew the only sin society refuses to pardon is an out-at-elbows gown; and I was too proud to accept gifts I could not repay.
"Yet, still I hesitated in accepting Philip's offer, which seemed tempting in its home view; but would it be wise for me to marry him, simply because my life was a lonely one? I was in the act of telling him, 'I would sleep on it, and give him his answer, to-morrow,' when saying so, we were startled by the city clocks and bells striking, ringing and chiming six o'clock! Ella, Ella, my heart with fright seemed to stop beating; even yet a nervous tremor runs through me when I recall that moment; it was too true, on Philip consulting his watch, really, in the gloaming; for the sun was then sinking to rest at about five-thirty.
"'Great Heavens!' I cried; 'the tower door will be locked!' At this, can you credit it, Ella; the face of my companion grew exultant, as he cried:
"'Then we shall be here together until morning, and you will have to marry me!'
"At this, Ella, a shudder of repulsion ran through me; all my liking for him seemed at once to leave my heart, fear taking its place. 'What shall we do?' I cried; 'there are no passers-by; God help me, for truly, "vain is the help of man." Think of something, do something, Mr. Cobbe—go to the foot of the stairs—hammer on the door—anything—get me out some way,' I said, almost in a frenzy. 'There is no one in the building,' he said. 'I would be no more heard than you hear your dog Tyr whining for your return. You will have to stay. We will be married, which some women would not grieve at. Come, come, cheer up; we will be married quietly in the morning; say yes, with a kiss.'
"'Go away,' I said; 'you must have matches, I have hit upon a plan. I am going to tie my bonnet to the end of your cane, and set fire to it. Some one will see it, and tell the janitor or steward, and we shall be liberated; here, quick, the matches!'
"'I have not one about me,' he said; and which I now feel sure was a falsehood. 'Oh try, try; search every pocket; if you will only free us I will promise anything, only get us out of here,' I said, half beside myself.
"'You will promise anything,' he said, excitedly; 'then, down on your knees, and swear by all you hold sacred, to become my wife.'
"'Oh, that is too awful an oath, ask me anything but that,' for I was sure now I could not love him.
"'No, no; swear, or you stay here all night.' 'Half my money, when I get it, instead, for pity's sake,' I said, distractedly.
"'Nonsense! I swear to liberate us from the tower and building, if you swear as I have dictated; if not, take the consequences.' Again, he pleaded his suit, winding up by asking me 'How I thought I would look facing a crowd in the morning, emerging from such a midnight resting-place, and in his company; of how the students would have food for jokes, for the remainder of the term; of how the newspapers would get hold of it,' etc.
"Driven to desperation, I knelt and swore by all I held sacred, to become his wife—unless he himself set me free—the latter clause he allowed, laughing at the idea; he then held me to his heart, telling me I would have a good husband in him, and never have cause to repent of my oath; tying my bonnet on, for I trembled so, my hands were useless; how I got down the steps on steps I don't know; he must have carried me; for what with the strain on my nerves from the whole scene, added to the spiral stairway, I felt dizzy and faint; but we reached the bottom, and my astonishment and indignation is easier imagined than described, on seeing him coolly turn the handle and open the door! The bells we had heard were fire-bells. The janitor, true to his trust, had locked the great door and gone to a lecture-room for a moment, intending after to mount for us.
"Philip seemed uplifted to a state of insane exultation at the success of his plan; for, on my upbraiding him on such base means to attain his ends, he laughed, as he said, 'All is fair in love or war,' as turning the key in the oak door of the main entrance we were out in the free air. Free! yes, but with my freedom gone. I looked at him with a sort of curiosity, as merely shutting the door, though I suggested burglars; he for answer, taking me in his arms, saying thickly, to the accompaniment of the key turning, 'Make the best of me, love, it was only by stratagem I could win you; I am lonely, so are you; I will make you happy, so help me God!' and so it is, Ella, you find me engaged to wed Philip Cobbe.
"But, as you must see, there must be other reasons than my disinclination to have prevented our union, for, you see, he still haunts me, though not loving me so faithfully, perhaps," she said, gravely.
"Of course I see it, you poor dear," she said, coming nearer, and kissing her friend, "and you mustnevermarry that man. What a romance of the tower it was; I have been fascinated listening to your recital. I now see what he meant by his—as he thought—strange manner, on Henry naming that we were going to the University with you. But,mark my words, there will be a tragedy if you wed this man; I know something."
A tremor ran through Mrs. Gower; she clasped her hands nervously, her lips quivered, and her dark eyes dilated, as she said, leaning towards her friend,
"You mean about a woman!"
Here Garfield awoke at the entrance of his father, whose ring his mother and Mrs. Gower had not heard. Miss Crew, entering, hat and mantle on, and carrying the outdoor wraps of Mrs. Dale.
"Why, you both look startled!" said Mr. Dale; "have you been enjoying a spiritual seance?"
"No, Henry, but you had better avoid me, for I have been tasting of the tree of knowledge."
"We have had dogma, also, Mr. Dale; and your wife does not believe that the end justifies the means," said Mrs. Gower, as Thomas brought in a tray with delicious coffee and sandwiches.
"I hope such doctrine won't be forced down our throats some day, Mrs. Gower. Roman Catholicism seems to be coming upon you, wave by wave, and you in Ontario don't even seem to dream of a breakwater."
And so he talked on of city news, of the immense circulation of the newspapers, of the power of the press, etc., seeing there had been grave talk, and giving each time to bury gravity in heart's casket.
"Good night, little man; and so you get your feet on life's first rung, at Upper Canada College, on Monday morning."
"Yes, Mrs. Gower, and I mean to show them what a New York boy can do."
"That's right; defy circumstance and fate, and mount."
"Good night, and good-bye, dear Mrs. Gower, for I leave, as you are aware, for a run north-east, to look at some mines with our friend Buckingham."
"Yes, so I hear; what birds of passage you men are; but you don't leave until Monday, when your good little wife and Miss Crew come to me during your absence."
"I really don't know what Ella would do without Holmnest and—you."
"Take care of yourself, Elaine," said Mrs. Dale, with a meaning pressure of the hand.
"What for?" she said, rather sadly.
"Oh, for somebody!"
In the neat little parlor, with flowering plants in the window, its walls adorned with old-time Scripture prints and modern play-bills in droll blending, back of the shop-room for stationery, at Bayswater, on an evening late in October, sits Silas Jones, listless, and, with idle hands, apparently staring into vacancy, in reality wandering in busy thought into dim prison-houses and private asylums at London, in search of Sarah Kane, who, on his calling to see at Mrs. Mansfield's some weeks ago, as arranged, was informed by a housekeeper in charge that her mistress had gone south for the winter, and had told Mr. Stone some months ago she would like Sarah Kane to go with her as companion. When he sent her word she refused the offer, and that as to Mr. Stone bringing her, neither of them had been near the place.
On this, Silas Jones had racked his brain to discover her, advertising time and again; sure of foul play. One day he thought of seeing what the detectives could do, another of consulting a lawyer; he had, though knowing it would be useless, gone to Broadlawns, and interviewed Mr. Stone, who had answered carelessly:
"I never even try to keep track of servants we discharge. Why of Sarah Kane, who was a viper on our hands?"
"As to that, Mr. Stone, I shall not allow you to blacken the best woman in God's world. She went with you to London; where is she now?"
"I tell you again I don't know, even whether she be alive or dead, and if you come about Broadlawns again, I shall have you up for trespass. An Englishman's house is his castle, sir."
"Oh, Silas Jones, Silas Jones, she has grown tired of you," said Mrs. Cole, vengefully. "We found her in Mr. Cole's bedroom at midnight. What can an old man like you expect?"
"I don't mind your wicked words, they can't hurt Sarah; it's your deeds; and I implore you, if you have any of the woman nature in you, tell me where I can find her."
"And I answer, as Mr. Stone did, I never bother myself as to the whereabouts of discharged servants, so consider yourself dismissed," she said, calling Simon.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Open the door for Silas Jones, bookseller, Bayswater." And so had he been answered in harsh, unfeeling tones, as almost broken-hearted he had wended his lonely way mechanically back to the little parlor.
It is well he has sold out his business to the young man Mary has married, for he cannot give his mind to anything other than the loss of the one woman, in his simple loyalty, he has ever loved, and of how again to find her.
"Silas," said his sister, "I just now asked Dr. MacNeil, as he came up the street, how poor Mr. Cole is, and he says he is in for a bad attack of that nasty rheumatic fever; just think, brother, of him only out of brain fever and into this; it's out and out too bad."
"Does he ask for Sarah, still?"
"Yes; doctor says it's most pitiful to hear him; and he (doctor) says, but it's 'cause he doesn't know the truth, that, of course, they are not to be blamed for the not bringing her, since she be so bad."
"Sister, I can't stand this suspense and trouble any longer; it's killing me. If it costs me every penny I have in the world, Imustfind my Sarah. I shall go into the city to-morrow, and put the detectives to work."
At this juncture the shop door was hurriedly thrown open, when Sarah Kane, cold, pale, and trembling, followed by the driver of a hansom, came in quickly into their midst.
"Now, Missis, you'll be as good as your word, I 'ope, and gim me my fare."
But she is in the close embrace of Silas, while Mary pays, dismisses him, and locks the front door, her husband being in the great city.
"Silas, it's my belief you are demented; let our Sarah go. I want to hear where the old de'il took her to, and how she comes in like this, with no bonnet or shawl, and her hair blown about like that. There, that's more like it," she said, kissing Sarah, as Silas, not speaking a word, only keeping his gaze fixed on Sarah's face, leads her to a chair, when, dropping on his knees, says earnestly,
"Thank God; thank God."
Now seating himself beside her, and holding her hand in his, Sarah says, her lips quivering:
"Yes, God be thanked, I am at home, home! Oh dears, you will never know the sweetness of home as I do, after the awful life I have had since I last saw your dear faces; and only that I ran away, leastwise, bribed the boy with my watch and chain—"
"You did!" cried Mary, in astonishment.
"Freedom is sweeter than jewels, Mary dear; but I must begin at the beginning. Yes, Silas, the tea has warmed me; I must tell you all now. You know how suspicious the people at Broadlawns are? Well, you can imagine the scene I went through when, running back from you that early morn, I found them waiting for me; they had got into my room with another key; they called me all the foul names in the spelling-books in England, I do believe. My heart, but it was fearful; and poor Mr. Cole calling me, and they not letting me near him; but I can't go on till I hear of him. How is he, and was it brain fever?"
"Yes, Sarah," said Mary, hurriedly, "and he could not bear Mrs. Cole near him; raving more even when out of his head, if she was in the room."
"Poor, poor young gentleman, and how is he now?"
"Well, he's just out, like, of brain fever, and into rheumatism."
"Dear, dear!" she said, in troubled tones; "Silas, I feel, dear, that I must endeavor to bring some speck of comfort into his life, for I blame myself now for not long ago going and talking it over with Dr. Annesley; will you come up to the city with me, to-morrow, and try to see him?"
"Anywhere, so I am with you; for I do believe, Sarah, I shall never be brave enough to lose sight Of your dear face again," he said, tenderly, still holding her hand.
"And, now, go on Sarah, and tell us where that old sneak thief took you to," said Mary, curiously.
"Yes, I must. Mr. Stone bid me only take my Gladstone bag, for he was not going to spoil the phæton with my trunks. So, merely putting in a few necessary articles, thinking, as you remember, to be back in a day or two; well, we drove into town; but not in the direction, as I remembered, of Mrs. Mansfield's; we went a long, long way east; and when I wondered, he answered, shortly, that he had business that required immediate attention, first; well, on we drove into streets and localities unknown to me. At last, after a two hours' drive, we stopped at the end house in a terrace; it was a gloomy street, though some of the houses were well-looking enough. In one of the windows of the house at which we stopped, was a card, 'Lodgings for single gentlemen;' but that was a blind, Silas, to cover the real state of affairs."
On Mr. Stone knocking, a bolt and chain were drawn and unfastened, and a big, strong, coarse-looking boy, large mouthed, and with cross eyes, opened the door.
"'Is your master in?' inquired Mr. Stone. 'Yes, sir.' 'Come in, Sarah Kane,' said the wicked master of Broadlawns. 'I have a good deal to say here, and you may as well come in doors, after your early morning walk' (that was here, you know, Silas) 'and your visit to a gentleman's bedroom last night.' It might have been Mrs. Cole; he spoke in such cold, hard tones.
"We were shown into the front room first flat; the room with the notice in the window; it was extremely dirty and untidy; with a single bed in one corner; and what furniture there was looked like odds and ends picked up at sales; three chairs, one of brown leather, the others faded red and blue rep. On a table were pipes, tobacco, burnt matches, ale mugs, and cards, with copies ofBell's Life, in different stages of dirtiness; the room was littered with a man's clothing, and altogether unsavory. I was reluctant to enter, and stood on the door-mat.
"'Just go in ma'am; here's the master,' said the boy grinning.
"If the room was unsavory, the man was. Oh, Mary, if you saw him," she said, shudderingly; "he looked like a bully or prize fighter; a heavily-built man, short of stature, with bull-dog head and face; he wore no coat, and his shirt was unclean."
"Well, Lang, how are you getting along?"
"Do you mean as to funds, Mr. Stone; are you going to say the word, 'forego the back rents, take that lump sum for the house, and cry quits, that's the question?'" he said, with a wink. "Come in, Missis; I'm quite a dude, you see; but ladies don't mind that."
"I prefer to wait for Mr. Stone, out in the phæton," I said, with latent disgust.
"Here they exchanged what I now know was a meaning glance, Mr. Stone saying, 'Sarah Kane is a most particular young woman, as you shall hear, Lang; come this way, Sarah.'
"I protested that I preferred waiting outside, to no purpose. 'This way, Sarah Kane,' 'Yes, this way, Missis,' they said, one going before and one behind me up a stairway, covered with a common carpet, but thickly padded; there were five doors opening into a square hall; all doors shut. Turning the handle of one, Mr. Stone said, smiling grimly, 'Another lodger.' 'Yes; he's out airing; you bet, they keep me busy,' he answered, with another of his odious winks, saying, 'Here, Missis, just step in 'ere while the Squire and me square accounts;' this time he winked at me; and I began to think it a mechanical way he had of winding up a remark."
"Nasty beast," said Mary.
"I was no sooner in, than the key was turned, and I knew myself a prisoner; I called, hammered on the door, did every conceivable thing to make a noise; finally I sat down on the one greasy chair of green rep, and cried as if my heart would break. I thought of you, Silas, and you too, Mary, of poor Mr. Cole; and hope vanished, knowing by whom I had been trapped. From time to time I could hear a murmur of voices; then Mr. Stone's unmusical laugh; and the unfastening and fastening of the door. Then I gave myself up to despair; I could make no sign to the outside busy London world, for my small room was only lit from the hall by a curious window, up near the ceiling. A single bed, wash-stand, and tiny looking glass, hanging to the wall, too small and cracked to be of any use; every article being stale and dirty. Mr. Lang brought me a cup of tea, and some bread and cheese, telling me to make myself at home; and 'that even though I was in a single gentleman's house, no matter,' with another odious wink; 'that Mr. Stone had told him I would not be sorry there were no ladies,' etc.; but to make a long story short, Silas and Mary, the people at Broadlawns imprisoned me to get me out of the way, so I should not speak of this fraud of a marriage."
"That's it, my poor Sarah."
"Days passed into weeks; and had it not been for my pocket Bible, the Pickwick papers, and a long strip of muslin embroidery and housewife I had put in my bag, I don't know what would have become of me; I tried to keep calm, if only to devise a scheme of escape. One day was much the same as another, Mr. Lang trying in many ways to get private information of Broadlawns, telling me, to raise my wrath, that Mr. Stone had told him I was demented, and nothing I said was reliable; but I could not trust such a man, so left him no wiser. Every day, for fifteen minutes, I was compelled to go up two flights of stairs to a room with an open skylight, and where I was made, willingly though, to walk up and down; sometimes Lang, sometimes another man, whom I loathed even worse, or the cross-eyed boy, accompanying me as jailer; this they called a pleasure airing. Yesterday, growing desperate, I offered my watch and chain to the cross-eyed boy, to liberate me. He listened, eyeing them greedily, saying to my delight,
"'Well, I'll try, Missis; for I'm a bit tired of airing of you and the three men, and a doing of other chores.' 'Are there three other prisoners beside myself,' I cried. 'Oh, no, ma'am; they be just a lodging 'ere on the quiet, loike you be.' 'You will free me, then, and gain my watch and chain; see how pretty it is, and pure gold.' 'Yes, the first chance I gets; but ye're not lying; ye'll give it all square?'
"But to hasten, for I feel tired and weak, though oh! so much better in mind; the middle man gave me my airing to-day, to whom I never spoke, though he laughed and jeered at me continually. I worried myself by thinking that, perhaps, the boy was only a spy, when this evening, after Mr. Lang had brought me my tea, and I was again locked in, to my joy, in a few minutes, the key turned, and the boy said, hurriedly, 'Come along, Missis; don't wait to take nothing; master's out, and Bill's run to the gin-palace, telling of me to keep guard.' Even as he spoke, we were downstairs, the bolt and chain undone, and, thank God, with the free air of heaven about us. 'Give us your 'and, Missis, ye're goin' the wrong way;' and on we sped with flying feet. 'Good-bye, Missis; now for the timer. It's a dandy,' he said, pocketing it; 'there's a 'ansum; you'd better take it, you are out of breath;' and with a shrill whistle, the man stopped; when the boy flew, and I took the hansom; and here I am home at last, thank God."
"What wretches!" cried Mary.
"You leave me no more, Sarah; you are evermoremycare; go to bed now, dear, and rest, for we will go up to London to-morrow, to ask Dr. Annesley's advice. I shall go now to Broadlawns for your trunks; good night. Oh, how light my heart is now I have found you again, Sarah," he said, tenderly kissing her.
"We will be an old couple, Silas, dear," she said, quietly; "do you know, to-morrow will be our joint birthday; this is the eve of All Saints."
"Yes; and we shall be married to-morrow, when we are in the city; age doesn't count; our hearts are young, Sarah."
"Yes, Silas; I feel so happy I could sing,