"'Now we maun totter doon, John;But hand in hand we'll go;And we'll sleep thegither at the foot,John Anderson, my jo.'"
"'Now we maun totter doon, John;But hand in hand we'll go;And we'll sleep thegither at the foot,John Anderson, my jo.'"
"Our lives have been ever hand in hand, Sarah, for we exchanged hearts long, long ago; but here is George; I shall go now with an easy mind, for he will guard you safely; good night."
"I have only time, to-night, to wish you joy, George, for I require rest," she said, going upstairs.
"Well, this is good," he said, rubbing his hands; "but, good night, sister, that is to be; my little wife here has her mouth open to give me your story."
When Silas Jones, with the light waggon, drove up the carriage drive to Broadlawns, the family were at supper; so Simon, glad of the chance, got the trunks down and into the waggon, without words; but as Silas Jones was thanking him for his assistance; telling him of Sarah Kane's escape, and inquiring for Mr. Cole, Mr. Stone, leaving the dining-room, encountered him, when he said,
"I am taking Sarah Kane's trunks away, Mr. Stone."
"And who has authorized you to do anything in the matter?" he inquired, haughtily.
"My future wife, Sarah Kane."
For once, he was nonplussed; when Miss Stone, passing through the hall, said, stiffly:
"I am sorry I cannot congratulate you, Mr. Jones, on winning a Christian woman."
"What can it mean," thought Mrs. Cole; "she is in tight keeping; safe enough." As a feeler, she says,
"You must have the faith of Abraham to trust her still; someone said she is living with a bachelor at London."
"Mrs. Cole, let me tell you there is such a thing as British justice, which we mean to have, when you shall eat your words in a court of law," he said, indignantly turning on his heel, and out into the night.
Simon, at his post in the sick room, told the good news of Sarah Kane's escape.
Turning suddenly, in his eagerness to face Simon, and hear more, the sufferer groaned in rheumatic pain.
"Can you not manage to bring her to see me, whentheyareallout; the once you did bring Mr. Jones, he said, when he found Sarah, they would go out to New York or Canada; I particularly wish to see them. Jove! the pain; the liniment, Simon; rub me, please, and close the door; if I could only escape, like Sarah; you will do what you can, I beg of you, to bring them to see me?"
"I will, sir, if I loses my situation by it."
Below stairs the birds of prey held council with closed doors.
"What the devil did that man Jones mean by daring to throw threats in our faces, Margaret?" said Stone, with seeming bravado, though, in reality, in dismay.
"Impudent bluster, perhaps, but I shall put my ears to their proper use," and slipping off her shoes, she crept noiselessly up to the door of the gloomy east chamber, which had been closed so they could talk privately, thus playing into the ear of the enemy.
"Well," said her uncle grimly, as she returned. "Well?" she answered, in the same tones, her eagle nose more prominent, her awful eyes more stony than ever. "She has escaped! and is even now at the bookseller's."
"The devil!"
"You may well say so. Thomas Lang has sold you. Simon does not know particulars, for our friend Cole was earnest in inquiries."
"Is it too late to go into the city now?" he said nervously.
"Yes, and you are too cowardly to face 'ills you know not of' alone. Let me see; the lower class are awed by pomp and show. We will drive into Windsor Terrace in the morning in the carriage and pair. If Lang has sold you, you must buy him, by letting him have the house at his own figure. Again, should she have escaped without his connivance, be prepared by selling everything you can. You, as guardian to my sweet step-sister, have unlimited powers until our pet is of age, which interesting event, they don't seem to know, has taken place. Rake in all the gold you can, uncle, as the United States looks inviting at present; to-morrow will be a busy day, Aunt Elizabeth, so you might tell cook to have breakfast an hour earlier. Good night."
As she left the room, her uncle said:
"She is every inch a Stone, Elizabeth, and not a bit like her chicken-hearted father."
"That's true, Timothy, but she grows plainer every day, and looks nearly as old as I do."
"Yes, she is no Hebe; but had the blooming goddess been possessed of her wits, she would have blind-folded Jupiter."
On a morning late in December Mrs. Gower sat alone in her pretty restful library, with its olive-green velvet cushions and hangings, its water-lilies, like the beauties in our bay, with their green stalks and leaves painted on the panelled walls, its English ivy trained up and around the Queen Anne mantel, with graceful palms standing on either side of the floral blossoms on the stand. The occupant looks well in a close-fitting gown of navy blue flannel, embroidered in rose silk; there is a half-smile on the lips, and the dreaminess of some tender thought in the dark eyes, as she idly opens and closes a black lace fan, with a spray of honeysuckle painted thereon. A gentleman's card lay beside her work-basket on the table.
"So Alexander Blair is his name," she thought; "how very, very long," with a sigh, "it has taken to come to me—his name, of course, I mean." She thought, with a smile, putting the card to her lips, "how foolish of me, but I have always had that way. I remember travelling to Port Elgin, from Toronto, and on my arrival, my trunk, containing my dearest treasures, was not forthcoming. I was wild with grief, when, after enriching the telegraph offices, at the expense of my purse, in three days it was again in my possession; and what did I do, why kissed and fondled both trunk and key. Elaine Gower, you are a foolish, impressionable woman. And so I dropped my fan at the Grand, last night. His card says, 'With compliments, dropped at the theatre.' He scarcely seemed a stranger seated beside me at 'Erminie,' and I feel sure he felt likewise. How handsome he is, or rather how essentially manly, with the look of strength in his broad shoulders, and of honesty of purpose in his fearless, blue eyes. He is iron-grey, and slightly bald, I noticed, when he stooped to pick up my handkerchief, but his beard and moustache are brown. He is decidedly dark; I wonder if Highland Scotch; for dark, and true, and tender are the North. His name suits him. I like them both for old association's sake, one being the maiden name of one whose memory is sacred, the other, the Christian name of my loved dead. I wonder what poor Charlie Cole would think of my having made his acquaintance in this romantic fashion. I remember, he also had had instantaneous photographs, as we laughingly called them, of a young lady who had interested him."
At this moment Miss Crew, entering, in walking costume, said:
"I met the letter-carrier as I came in, Mrs. Gower, and here is your share."
"Thank you. You look better for your walk; but did you walk?"
"Only from the Spadina Avenue car terminus, but I had some little walking in my district, but the College Street Mission is worth fatiguing oneself for. Oh, Mrs. Gower, have you heard how Mayor Howland purposes raising building funds for the cottage in connection with the Industrial Home at Mimico?"
"Yes, I read it in some newspaper, the Globe of yesterday, I think."
"Won't it be something to be proud of, if the children carry it out."
"Yes, and I believe they will; children are very much in earnest, when the heart is touched; and now for our correspondence; take off your hat and mantle here by the grate, though Gurney's furnace does keep us very comfortable all over the house."
"Pardon my interrupting you, Mrs. Gower; but I am reading a letter from Mrs. Dale, in which she says, to be sure and remind you to write her some description of your yachting on the St. Lawrence; those English friends of theirs would so much like to get some idea of the life, as they purpose purchasing an island."
"Yes, I must do so; but I fear any poor words of mine, will fail in doing justice to its many delights;" and on finishing reading her letters, seating herself at herescretoire, she wrote as follows:
"The Islet-Gemmed St. Lawrence."Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dale,—It has never been my lot to read anything descriptive of river-life, on our loveliest of streams, that I have considered did justice to its varied charms; so you may imagine how powerless I feel, in the task you have assigned me; but when I tell you that that martyr toennui, Jack Halton, this summer owned to myself that he had, at last, found something worth living for, you will therefore not be surprised that I, loving nature as I do, should have gone into raptures."In the first place, our steam-yacht, theIno, was the trimmest little craft, the daintiest little beauty on the river; and we had the perfection of host and hostess, each in their respective niche, leaving nothing to be desired. I told them they must have had 'Aladdin's lamp' stowed away somewhere; for we had but to clap our hands, and our will was done."Day after day, never tiring, ever with renewed zest we boarded theIno, to dream away the hours in the most ravishing bits of scenery my eyes ever beheld. With hampers full of dainties and substantials, we wandered in and about the islands; sometimes meeting other idlers like ourselves, and pic-nicking at some chosen spot; sometimes the guests at one or other of our acquaintances having summer homes in this our Canadian fairyland. Truly, if all the year were June, the world in woods would roam; for our gay littleInowas a spirit of the waters, and though we had no spiritualists on board, still we had table rappings on some good story by our witty host; neither were we so spiritual as to despise the material, which we proved as we sat to dinner; and such dinners, Ambrosia! Yea, and for our goddesses; though with sunburnt faces we women did not much resemble the latter, our men looking handsomer the browner they grew; but as for dinner, we had from dishes to tickle the palate of our club epicures to—hodge-podge, which we relished."Yes, from morn till eve, and often late, late, in the white moonlight, we lived an ideal life on our pet yacht, theIno."One will sometimes say, in meteing out great praise to some favored spot, that one would live and die there; but here, who talks of dying? One would fain live forever; for, every moment one lives, one breathes a new life; for on the luxuriously appointedIno, we gazed out from curtained windows, or from under a canopied arch, while we reclined on softest of cushioned seats, and literally drank in the 'Elixir of Life.' The air of the pine groves as we passed, the air of the grandly dark and dashing river, full of ozone, is the air to inflate one's lungs with, and carry back with one to our crowded cities, which seemed so far away in that land of beauty."Some delightful evenings, we would tread a measure on the green sward, to music of flute and violin; for, had one or more of our group not been innate musicians, the scene was enough to inspire one, and so, in songs, merry laughter or sentiment, our days passed as a dream."For we stem the shining river,The river of the isles,On our fairy yacht, theIno,With our love beside our side.For I there met a sorcerer, who robbed me of my heart, and whose spells I could not break until I fled from this scene of enchantment. And again we board our trim yacht, and what varied scenes of beauty met the eye, whenever and wherever we gazed. Such lights, such shadows, such artist bits, such trees, such rocks, such everything! Surely we were in fairyland, and not in plain, practical Canada."On some of the islands are ideal summer homes; now we came upon a fairy-like structure, in Italian villa style; now, upon a palatial mansion; now, upon a camp all alive, and signallingInothe fair."The only specks in my sun were, that the American islands were made more beautiful by their owners than our own; and that uneuphonious names had been given to some of these charming islets. Fancy one 'Pitch Pine Point'—I failed to see the point of christening it so."The rocks take most fantastic shapes in the shadowed moonlight. By and under the rock-bound shore, I used to fancy I saw nymphs dancing on the rippling waters, which was to them music; and, dreaming on, as we lazily stemmed the tide, it all came to me, that in days of yore, the youths from the shore, coming to row and sport in the waves at eve, saw the water-sprites, and fell in love; when the sea-gods, for revenge, fell upon them, transforming them into some of the most fantastic-shaped rocks we see; and, the sea-nymphs, pitying the sons of men for their fatal love, prayed the gods to transform themselves into trees, to grow into the clefts of the rocks; and so protect their would-be lovers from old Sol's fiery beams, and their wish was granted."But we invariably turned ere a bend in the river robbed it from our sight, to take a last loving glance at the beauteous Isle Manhattan, where we had been most hospitably entertained by its charming American inmates. It is beautifully wooded, and an elegant mansion thereon, with one of the most hospitable of verandas, stretching long and wide, with many American rockers and pillowed rattan sofas, on which we have reclined or sat while partaking of iced claret and, for those who liked it, champagnecarte blanche, and where we had one of the most perfect views from the commanding tower of the villa."A view that wants a Lett, an Imrie, or an Awde to sing of, a Longfellow to immortalize—my pen is lifeless in describing its beauty; a beauty that would ravish the soul of a poet, and send an artist wild; a view which brought to my mind the remark of a dear old Scotchman, whom a party of tourists came upon, lost in admiration of the Falls of Niagara. On one of the party asking him what he thought of the Falls, he said, 'Eh, man, I just feel like takin' aff my bonnet til't.'"In the far-stretching scene of loveliness here, in the heart of the Islands, one should go to the Tower, at Manhattan alone, leaving the merry, madding crowd on board the yacht, or on the veranda; one should go alone, or in dual solitude, where a clasp of the hand, or a look, is sympathy enough; for one should carry with one one's fill of such a scene of perfect beauty, to brighten darker days and drearier times."
"The Islet-Gemmed St. Lawrence.
"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dale,—It has never been my lot to read anything descriptive of river-life, on our loveliest of streams, that I have considered did justice to its varied charms; so you may imagine how powerless I feel, in the task you have assigned me; but when I tell you that that martyr toennui, Jack Halton, this summer owned to myself that he had, at last, found something worth living for, you will therefore not be surprised that I, loving nature as I do, should have gone into raptures.
"In the first place, our steam-yacht, theIno, was the trimmest little craft, the daintiest little beauty on the river; and we had the perfection of host and hostess, each in their respective niche, leaving nothing to be desired. I told them they must have had 'Aladdin's lamp' stowed away somewhere; for we had but to clap our hands, and our will was done.
"Day after day, never tiring, ever with renewed zest we boarded theIno, to dream away the hours in the most ravishing bits of scenery my eyes ever beheld. With hampers full of dainties and substantials, we wandered in and about the islands; sometimes meeting other idlers like ourselves, and pic-nicking at some chosen spot; sometimes the guests at one or other of our acquaintances having summer homes in this our Canadian fairyland. Truly, if all the year were June, the world in woods would roam; for our gay littleInowas a spirit of the waters, and though we had no spiritualists on board, still we had table rappings on some good story by our witty host; neither were we so spiritual as to despise the material, which we proved as we sat to dinner; and such dinners, Ambrosia! Yea, and for our goddesses; though with sunburnt faces we women did not much resemble the latter, our men looking handsomer the browner they grew; but as for dinner, we had from dishes to tickle the palate of our club epicures to—hodge-podge, which we relished.
"Yes, from morn till eve, and often late, late, in the white moonlight, we lived an ideal life on our pet yacht, theIno.
"One will sometimes say, in meteing out great praise to some favored spot, that one would live and die there; but here, who talks of dying? One would fain live forever; for, every moment one lives, one breathes a new life; for on the luxuriously appointedIno, we gazed out from curtained windows, or from under a canopied arch, while we reclined on softest of cushioned seats, and literally drank in the 'Elixir of Life.' The air of the pine groves as we passed, the air of the grandly dark and dashing river, full of ozone, is the air to inflate one's lungs with, and carry back with one to our crowded cities, which seemed so far away in that land of beauty.
"Some delightful evenings, we would tread a measure on the green sward, to music of flute and violin; for, had one or more of our group not been innate musicians, the scene was enough to inspire one, and so, in songs, merry laughter or sentiment, our days passed as a dream.
"For we stem the shining river,The river of the isles,On our fairy yacht, theIno,With our love beside our side.
"For we stem the shining river,The river of the isles,On our fairy yacht, theIno,With our love beside our side.
For I there met a sorcerer, who robbed me of my heart, and whose spells I could not break until I fled from this scene of enchantment. And again we board our trim yacht, and what varied scenes of beauty met the eye, whenever and wherever we gazed. Such lights, such shadows, such artist bits, such trees, such rocks, such everything! Surely we were in fairyland, and not in plain, practical Canada.
"On some of the islands are ideal summer homes; now we came upon a fairy-like structure, in Italian villa style; now, upon a palatial mansion; now, upon a camp all alive, and signallingInothe fair.
"The only specks in my sun were, that the American islands were made more beautiful by their owners than our own; and that uneuphonious names had been given to some of these charming islets. Fancy one 'Pitch Pine Point'—I failed to see the point of christening it so.
"The rocks take most fantastic shapes in the shadowed moonlight. By and under the rock-bound shore, I used to fancy I saw nymphs dancing on the rippling waters, which was to them music; and, dreaming on, as we lazily stemmed the tide, it all came to me, that in days of yore, the youths from the shore, coming to row and sport in the waves at eve, saw the water-sprites, and fell in love; when the sea-gods, for revenge, fell upon them, transforming them into some of the most fantastic-shaped rocks we see; and, the sea-nymphs, pitying the sons of men for their fatal love, prayed the gods to transform themselves into trees, to grow into the clefts of the rocks; and so protect their would-be lovers from old Sol's fiery beams, and their wish was granted.
"But we invariably turned ere a bend in the river robbed it from our sight, to take a last loving glance at the beauteous Isle Manhattan, where we had been most hospitably entertained by its charming American inmates. It is beautifully wooded, and an elegant mansion thereon, with one of the most hospitable of verandas, stretching long and wide, with many American rockers and pillowed rattan sofas, on which we have reclined or sat while partaking of iced claret and, for those who liked it, champagnecarte blanche, and where we had one of the most perfect views from the commanding tower of the villa.
"A view that wants a Lett, an Imrie, or an Awde to sing of, a Longfellow to immortalize—my pen is lifeless in describing its beauty; a beauty that would ravish the soul of a poet, and send an artist wild; a view which brought to my mind the remark of a dear old Scotchman, whom a party of tourists came upon, lost in admiration of the Falls of Niagara. On one of the party asking him what he thought of the Falls, he said, 'Eh, man, I just feel like takin' aff my bonnet til't.'
"In the far-stretching scene of loveliness here, in the heart of the Islands, one should go to the Tower, at Manhattan alone, leaving the merry, madding crowd on board the yacht, or on the veranda; one should go alone, or in dual solitude, where a clasp of the hand, or a look, is sympathy enough; for one should carry with one one's fill of such a scene of perfect beauty, to brighten darker days and drearier times."
On the morning of All Saints' Day, and while numerous bells, in tuneful voices, reminded London of souls departed, and souls to be saved, Silas Jones and his twin spirit, Sarah Kane, having arrayed themselves in best bib and tucker, had taken the underground rail from Bayswater, and with the multitude were trying not to lose one another in the London fog—a regular pea-souper, in which the coat-pocket of Silas had been picked of pipe, tobacco and handkerchief.
"Mercy me, Silas, look well that they don't steal the license."
"You are right, Sarah; which the thieves would not ask for leave or license to take; 'tis a big world our London; and it's my belief the thieves' quarter is the biggest half."
"We should have made sure of the license, Silas, by being married at first."
"That we should, dear; but you have always let a fancied duty come between us. And now for Piccadilly and Dr. Annesley, in this fog."
"Hello, Missis; a feller can't see in this 'ere yeller fog; 'ere, get into my barrow; it's clean, and I'll run yer through," said a boy's voice, running against them; and which Sarah Kane recognized as that of her liberator, the cross-eyed boy.
His offer was hurriedly declined by Silas, who dreaded Sarah taking her hand from his arm. On ascertaining from the boy that he had hired to peddle fruit for a huckster and that he had pawned the watch and chain they offered to redeem them, and give him a sovereign and-a-half for them; which offer he joyfully accepted; they also, giving him their address, told him, if at any time he wanted advice or assistance, to come.
A policeman now directed them to the residence of Dr. Annesley—a genial, kindly old gentleman, who was at home, and pleased to see them. On their relating the doings at Broadlawns, he was both astonished and indignant, disgusted and outrageous.
"As to any sharp tricks in money matters, I am not surprised," he said, impatiently; "but that they should have dared to perpetrate such an outrage as the marriage of Mr. C. Babbington-Cole, to that intensely disagreeable, ugly, cruel, Miss Villiers, is monstrous, monstrous!"
"You may well say so, sir," said Sarah Kane, sadly.
"How is it you had no suspicions, Mistress Kane, and you under the same roof?"
"I only overheard a word now and again, as to a marriage; but I never suspected this horror; I supposed it meant Miss Pearl, and that they were going to bring her back, when of age."
"Nothing can be done for Babbington-Cole; he is tied for life; but how he could ever have fallen into their net, is more than I can imagine," he said, in disgusted tones.
"You know, I told you they took him by surprise, sir; and his father lay ill; and cablegrams came telling him to wed Margaret Villiers, and hasten with her to his bedside; and he was just demented-like, between it all, and brain fever coming on."
"Well, well, it is a bad, very bad business. I confess to the having been so disgusted, on Villiers making Stone guardian to Miss Pearl, until she attained her majority, that I, metaphorically speaking, washed my hands of the whole affair; especially on Miss Pearl herself telling Brookes & Davidson, her mother's lawyers, that she agreed to it; this she said, on their telling her that, as her father had had softening of the brain at the time, nothing he said was worth considering."
"Depend upon it, doctor, Mr. Stone had used coercion to induce Miss Pearl to agree," said Silas Jones.
"Yes, I see, he must have," he answered, thoughtfully.
"And you don't know anything of poor Miss Pearl's whereabouts, do you, sir?" asked Sarah Kane, anxiously.
"Yes, I can give you a clue, for I love her for her own and her mother's sake; and as time went on, and I heard or saw nothing of her, I wrote T. L. Brookes, the senior partner, for I have had nothing to do with the hypocrites at Broadlawns, since Villiers' death; and he sent me an address at New York. Here it is, 'Mrs. Kent, The Maples, Murray Hill;' but, it is only a clue, for I have written, and have not, as yet, received a reply."
"Oh, please copy it for me, sir, for Silas and I are going to be married, and go out and find her. I promised her mother to look after her; and I have not heard from Miss Pearl; but she has written, for she said she would; but they have read and destroyed them, the same as they did to some that came for Mr. Cole just before and after he arrived."
"Horrible! horrible! How is he now; you just come from there, I presume?"
On Sarah Kane relating her late enforced retirement under Tom Lang's roof, and her escape therefrom, he opened his eyes in astonishment, saying, indignantly:
"The rascal! and you know nothing of the locality?"
"Nothing whatever, sir."
"Even if she did, Dr. Annesley, Stone would coin some plausible reason for placing her there."
"Yes, yes, Jones; he is as cunning as the arch-fiend; people would believe him, too, as he is a good churchman."
"But, you know, Silas; he has his falsehood ready. Sir, he told my jailer that I was demented, and—worse."
"Ah, his plots have no flaw; poor creature, after the kindness and respect Mrs. Villiers showed you, and which you deserved; too bad, too bad."
"The poison of their lying tongues has already done Sarah harm in Bayswater, Doctor. People pass her without a nod; they at Broadlawns say they found her in the bedroom of a gentleman guest at midnight, and that she stole out of the house at three in the morning to meet another."
"Shocking! you can have them up for defamation," he said, sternly.
"But, sir, I must tell you, it was to poor Mr. Cole's bedroom I went, and he with brain-fever coming on, to do what I could to comfort the unfortunate gentleman; and it was to Silas and his sister I went at night to tell them of the awful marriage; that I was turned out, and going to Mrs. Mansfield's, which I was foolish enough to believe," she said, with tears.
"Well, well, Mistress Kane, there, there, don't recall it; go off to a clergyman's and marry this good man; and here are five pounds to buy some trifle in Cheapside, to remember the day by. And now, let me see, there was something I wished to see Jones about," he said, kindly, rubbing his forehead. "Yes, I have it; did they give you all the wearing apparel of the late Mrs. Villiers, Mistress Kane?"
"Oh, no, sir! I would not expect such beautiful things. I thought Miss Pearl should have them, whenever I see Miss Stone wearing the lovely furs and satins."
"Did you ever receive five hundred pounds sterling, Mistress Kane, left you, by the will of the late Mrs. Villiers?" he asked, slowly, and with emphasis.
"Sir, you take my breath away. Silas, tell him, no, sir. I! I! receive such a sum. No, nor one penny since Mrs. Villiers' death; but that, I cannot claim, for I have staid on willingly, to watch dear Miss Pearl's interests, and this is the end. Come Silas, let us go now to the parson; it will be our first step out of Old England, to find Miss Pearl," she said, nervously, her tears flowing apace, partly with the troubled excitement of the words of Dr. Annesley, partly at the having, at last, a clue to the whereabouts of Pearl Villiers. Not so, Silas, who loved her too well to allow the words of Dr. Annesley to pass unnoticed.
"Do you really mean that the late Mrs. Villiers left Sarah a legacy, Doctor?" he said, in some excitement.
"I do; and infer from your united words that that rascal has pocketed it; I must see to it," and going to the telephone, ringing up Brookes & Davidson, ascertaining that they were both at their offices, said:
"Hello! Have been interviewedreVilliers' estate, am now sending the persons to you; they are quite reliable; shall see you to-morrow."
"All right, send them on."
"This is all I can do for you at present," he said; "and I advise you to make oath as to your not having received the legacy; it will save time.
"I am selfish enough to be glad you are going out to New York; something tells me you will trace Miss Pearl; and I can assure you both, you have my fullest sympathy in your dealings with Stone; I can scarcely restrain myself from taking the law into my own hands, going out, and charging them with their villainy."
"Thank God for your friendship, Doctor," said Silas Jones fervently, as he smoothed Sarah's bonnet-strings, and gave her her satchel.
"Good-bye, sir, and heaven bless you for your kindnesses," said Sarah Kane, with feeling.
"O, pshaw; my only regret is that you have only found me out to say farewell; but you must both come back, and bring Miss Pearl, to see an old man."
On reaching the offices of the law-firm, Sarah Kane made oath as to the not having received either money or wearing apparel.
W. Davidson, Q. C., saying:
"My eyes are being opened every day by the revelations of my clients; but what you say confirms my suspicion, that the schemes of somecertainpeople are such cunningly devised fables, as to make it next to impossible for all the law courts in the kingdom to convict them."
On leaving Temple Bar, they dined comfortably at a restaurant, talking faster than they ate. Afterwards, by the words of a clergyman, they were at last made one, at which, with hearts full of thankfulness and quiet content, they took a Bayswater omnibus.
Again in the little back parlor, where Mary had a table groaning under its good things, with a bright fire to welcome them, to which they had scarcely done justice, and beginning to relate their adventures in the city, when Simon, the man from Broadlawns, entered, saying, hurriedly:
"I gave my word to the young gent up to the house that I'd fetch you folks up to see him when they, over there, were out; so, come along, please, if you be in a mind to give the poor gentleman his way."
"Yes, indeed, we will, Simon," said Sarah Kane, readily tying on her bonnet. "Come, Silas, dear."
He rose, somewhat reluctantly, for the neat little parlor is doubly home to him now, with the sweet, gentle face of Sarah looking at him with the loving eyes of a wife.
"But are you sure, Simon, that they are all out, and for the evening, for I cannot answer for myself if I come across them?"
"Sure as the Bank of England, Mr. Jones, they be at the parson's. He's a showing of them off to a big missionary from foreign parts as his best angels."
"The Rev. Mr. Parks is so good," said Sarah, "that I always regret that his eyes are closed to the color of his angels."
"The trouble be, Mistress Kane, that they blindfold more nor parson," said Simon, as they hurriedly made their exit.
"Mistress Kane no longer, Simon, for I am glad to tell you we were married in the city to-day."
"Lawk-a-day! you don't tell me; but I am mighty glad to hear it. You will have a man of your own now, to take your name out of the gossips' mouth."
On arriving at Broadlawns, they went at once to the gloomy east chamber, when Sarah could scarcely repress an exclamation of intense pity at the change for the worse in the appearance of the long-suffering inmate. He was wasted to a shadow, and his brown locks had been shaved during brain fever, his kindly blue eyes looked black in the transparent paleness of his face, as did his whiskers and moustache, but in which many grey hairs had come. Holding out a thin, white hand, he welcomed Sarah warmly, saying:
"Oh, itisgood to see your face again. I expect I look like a galvanized corpse, Sarah. What with the horror of my forced union with Medusa (a pet name I have for Mrs. Cole), and then brain fever, which, I don't wonder, caught me, and which, having that woman about me, aggravated. You banished, and maligned, at which I stuffed the bedclothes into my ears, and now my old enemy, inflammatory rheumatism, I have had a pretty tough time of it."
"Yes, indeed, you have, poor fellow," said Sarah, restraining her tears, and scarcely able to look at the wreck before her; "but you are on the mend now, and we must trust in God to bring you around soon. It has been a heartbreak to me, Mr. Cole, that I was not allowed to nurse you."
"Only another piece of their cruelty, Sarah. But tell me about yourself. Where did that old sinner incarcerate you? tell me everything," he said, with feeble eagerness, for sometimes the pain was intense, causing him to set his teeth, or catch his breath.
But Silas Jones, seeing how much she was affected, and wishing to give her time to recover, himself gave the sick man a vivid picture of her imprisonment and release.
"Jove! what a wretch—I mean Stone; for the man Lang was simply his tool. Gad! I shall exercise a treble amount of will-power to get well, and out of their clutches, and back to dear old Toronto. 'Out of every evil comes some good,' they say; though, in my case, not much; in Sarah's, yes, for you have given me a tonic, Jones. From this moment I am determined to recover."
"That's right; be brave, sir, and you'll pull through right smart," said Silas Jones; for Sarah is swallowing a lump in her throat.
"Yes, bear up, Mr. Cole," she said, trying to smile, as she seated herself on the bedside, taking his poor, worn hands into her own, warm with vitality. "But Silas has not given you a bit of good news—that the happiest part of our lives is to come, for from to-day, we pass them together!"
"Yes," said Silas, coming beside her, laying his hands on her shoulders; "yes, I have nothing more to wish for, with Sarah beside me. I cannot remember the time, sir, that I did not want Sarah."
Two tears rolled down the sick man's cheeks, as he thought of his own wretched fate; but, by a visible effort, controlling self, he said, simply:
"I am glad you are together, and happy. Yours is a blessed union. God help me to health and strength, that I can free myself ofherpresence," he cried imploringly. "Sarah, I have a fancy—it may be a dying one, heaven knows—it is to see a likeness of Pearl Villiers, the girl I was, by right, to have married."
"Here she is, poor dear," she said with alacrity, unfastening a locket suspended to her chain.
"How strange! how like her! only older, and more careworn. Sarah, I have seen a face like this three or four times on the other side of the water; the face, too, strange to say, haunted me; a nice, good face, rather than pretty; but if the careworn, troubled look was gone it would have been pretty. Yes, the same features; small, pale, and regular."
"And with fair hair and slight figure?" cried Sarah, clasping her hands.
"Yes," but with the restlessness of the invalid he changed the subject, saying:
"You and your husband are going to America, you say. I am going, too;whenI get well. You might meet me there, if you can't wait for me," he said, wearily; "and, yes, there is something else I must hasten to say before those people return. I have received no letters since my arrival, only a few newspapers; here they are. I love them because they come from dear Toronto," he said, in nervous haste, taking from beneath his pillow a copy of theMail, two ofGrip, with aGlobe.
"Letters were here to meet you, sir?"
"Then the sneaks have read and kept them," he cried, angrily.
"Perhaps I should not have told you, sir; but I don't like you to think your friends have forgotten you."
"You do me no harm, Sarah, by your eye-openers. Wrath is a good tonic; tell me if you know what postmark was on them."
"Here are some envelopes I picked up from the grate the morning they sent me away."
"Yes, they said their letters would be here to meet me. This is quite plain, from Will Smith; this I can scarcely decipher; but it's—yes, it's Mrs. Gower's writing; and this from a namesake of yours, Mr. Jones. Ah, it's good to see even these scraps. I could preach sermons on the wickedness of my jailers," he said, weakly, "but now, at once, before they come back, take my address here, on——"
"How dare you enter my roof! it is more than flesh and blood can stand," said Mrs. Cole, entering stealthily, her face in a flame with rage—a virago, from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot, and arrayed, with her usual contempt for harmonious coloring, in pea-green satin, jet trimmings, with crimson bows.
"Calm yourself, Mrs. Cole; we are in the presence of a sick man," said Silas, with intense pity for the invalid, and endeavoring to curb his own tongue.
"Don't dare to address me, but get out of my house immediately; there, follow your bonnet, Sarah Kane," she said, furiously, pitching her bonnet and satchel into the hall, on which some change rolling therefrom, she was the richer by a half a sovereign, which, stealthily picking up, with an inward chuckle, she slipped into her boot.
"What's all the racket about upstairs? Wait a few moments, Lang," said Stone, who, on returning, ascertained he had been waiting for him in the kitchen for a full hour, they having missed each other in the morning.
Sarah Jones, in nervous haste to be gone, picked up her bonnet and satchel, taking the hand of Mr. Cole in good night.
"Remember! and here is my address," he whispered nervously.
But the woman he has married is too sharp for them; for, on Sarah turning from the bedside, she snatched the paper, tearing it into fragments.
"Good night, Mr. Cole. I am truly sorry for you; you are too good for the inmates of this house."
"Again you dare to trespass," said Stone, meeting them on the stairs, turning and following them down.
"I warned you before that I should make you pay for this. I am master here, and I tell you I shall kick you out if you ever show your ugly faces here again," he said, choking with passion.
"Good evening, Mistress Kane," winked Lang, as they passed him. "It was not square of you to skip off from me without paying your board. I'm dead broke, so you or your follower better pay up now; it's only five sovereigns, and save law expenses."
"You are unwise, Mr. Lang, to add insult to injury," she said, quietly, as she went out into a serener night.
"Provide yourselves with plasters, and we shall provide ourselves with copper toes, the next time you trespass," shouted Mrs. Cole, over the banisters.
"We shall only trouble you once more," said Silas Jones, curbing himself, "when Mrs. Jones will give you her signature in exchange for five hundred pounds, with interest on same, left her by the will of the late Mrs. Villiers."
The silver chimes of the mantel clock rang four p.m., as Mrs. Gower descended from her sewing-room on the last day of the old year. She looked well in a gown of soft, grey silk, hanging in full, straight folds, unrelieved by ornament, save a few sprays of sweet heliotrope at her collar-fastening.
She stood at the library door, unseen by Miss Crew the only occupant, who made a pretty picture, the last beams of the setting sun coming in through a west window, lighting up her fair hair and pretty brown gown, the firelight lending color to her pale cheeks; a cabinet photo is in her hand, at which she is gazing so earnestly, and with such a troubled expression, that she has not heard Mrs. Gower, though singing softly, as she descended the stairs,
"Your een were like a spell, Jeanie;Mair sweet than I can tell, lassie,That ilka day bewitched me saeI couldna help mysel', lassie."
"Your een were like a spell, Jeanie;Mair sweet than I can tell, lassie,That ilka day bewitched me saeI couldna help mysel', lassie."
"Who are you trying to read, Miss Crew?"
"Your friend, Mr. Babbington-Cole, Mrs. Gower," she said, with a start, placing the photo back in its frame.
"And has it told you its name was Babbington-Cole,ma chere; we only give the latter?"
"Yes; but you know his name is Babbington-Cole, Mrs. Gower," she answered, evading the question.
"We do. Do you like his face?"
"Yes, very much; he looks so kind and sweet-tempered."
"Poor Charlie Cole, he is all of that; excessively amiable people so often wed the reverse. I do hope it is not so in his case." "It is a dreadful fate," said the girl, absently. "But we must hope for the best, Miss Crew; but his long silence makes me fanciful; however, if we don't receive news direct very soon—as I have had some queer dreams of him lately—I shall write the clergyman at Bayswater."
"The reverend—I mean, how will you address it; just to the clergyman, or how?" she said, intent upon her work.
"Yes, that's very true, I don't know his name. Oh, I have it; Mr. Smyth left the paper with the marriage insertion; I do hope it has not been destroyed;" and going to the rack, to look over its contents, Miss Crew, excusing herself, left the room to get into her wraps, as she was due to tea at the Tremaine's. Mrs. Gower, looking in vain for the English newspaper, seated herself comfortably to read the report of the Board of Trade dinner to the Honorable Joseph Chamberlain.
Miss Crew entered, robed for the winter streets. "Good-bye, Mrs. Gower; I shall not be late."
"Au revoir; give Mrs. Tremaine my love; and say, as the Dales may return from New York this evening, I found it impossible to leave; and be sure and wear your over-shoes: our streets are in their usual winter break-neck condition. I do hope the new Council will enforce the by-law."
"I hope so, too; I had an awful fall the other day; the city treasury would be overflowing did they collect the fines," she said, going out; when, at the hall door, she returned, saying hurriedly, "Oh, here is the English newspaper you were looking for, Mrs. Gower; it was upstairs."
"Thank you, good-bye."
Having made a note of the clergyman's name at Bayswater, and become conversant with the news in the city papers, she gave herself up, in the gloaming, to quiet thought.
"Yes, I like him very much, there is a manly, straightforwardness in his words; a steadfastness of purpose in his honest blue eyes; a firmness in the lines of the mouth, with a kindliness of manner; all stamping him as a man whose friendship would be true, whose love faithful; how strange, that at last I should meet him at the house of a mutual friend. Mr. St. Clair tells me he has known him for years, and the Tremaines since summer; had any one told me two weeks ago, that I should sing 'Hunting Tower' with him in ten days, at the St. Clairs', I should have thought them romancing. He has a sweet tenor voice, he asked me if he might call; how pleasant it would be if he were here now. I used to wonder and wonder, in meeting him so frequently at lectures, concerts, or in the cars, and walking about, what his name was. Now, Alexander Blair has come to me; and his tenderness to the little veiled lady, who was, I suppose, consumptive, by the slow way they walked. I wonder where she is, I never see her now: his care for her touched my heart.
"I am so glad he has come into my life: I feel lonely at times; and he is so companionable, I know. What dependent creatures we are, after all—houses and lands, robesa la mode, even, don't suffice. Intercourse we must have.
"But," and a shudder ran through her, "what a desolate fate mine will be if Philip Cobbe will persist in keeping me to my oath. We have not much in common: he is kind, but neither firm nor steadfast, and now this woman comes between us; and what would she not do were I his wife? As it is, I live in daily dread of her doing something desperate. It was enough to terrify any woman similarly situated, the way in which she acted that Sunday evening, coming from church; and again, that night at the Rogers' meeting in the Pavilion. A ring! Can it be the Dales? No, it is Philip; I wonder what mood he is in."
"Alone! for a wonder," he said, warmly. "Leave the gas alone, Thomas, the firelight is sufficient." "And thinking of me, and wishing for me," he said, as the servant left the room. "Yes, I can tell by your eyes."
"There Philip, that will do, I am actually afraid to have you in my house. Remember that woman last night! if looks could kill, then would I have been slain," she said, tremblingly.
"She can't harm you, and I'll put a stop to her tricks. You see, Elaine, she is so infatuated with me, she can't keep away," he said, personal vanity uppermost.
"But, that's just what I want you to see, Philip; it would be running too great a risk to marry you."
"'Pon honor, love, I don't know how to shake her off."
"You did not seem to exert yourself last night. When I looked over my shoulder to speak to you in the crowd, coming out, she had her hand on your arm; and you were bending down listening to her."
"I know; and when you looked, she clutched her hold of my arm all the tighter," he said, with the eagerness of a child.
"What did she say?"
"She said, youshan'tgo home with her to-night."
"Exactly the same words she used that Sunday evening. Words and an act that will ever be stamped on my memory. That act came between my heart and yours, Philip, for all time," she said, sadly thinking of his foolish flightiness in allowing anything of the kind to break up their friendship, if no more. "You must see, Philip, that you should set me free."
"No, no; don't talk like that; you should want me all the more when you witness her infatuation," he said, with his juvenile air, attempting to kiss her.
"No, Philip; I cannot let you come near me with the occurrence of last evening so fresh in my memory."
"Oh, nonsense; when I am your husband you will be just as infatuated about me as she is."
"Do you know, Philip, you are as vain as a girl."
"Well, yes; I suppose I am vain; but so would any man be who was as successful with the fair sex as I am," he said, drawing himself up to his full height of five feet nine, a look of pleasure in his large bright eyes.
"I can assure you, Philip, I felt anything but vain at the Pavilion, or coming out of church, with the spiteful eyes of that tall, common-looking, over-dressed Mrs. Snob full upon me, as social astronomer; she took in the situation at once."
"A fig for what such like see or think; I thought you were above valuing the opinion of our wealthy plebeians."
"But we were so conspicuously placed; I shrink from giving such women food for gossip."
"Hang them all; our east-ender, Mrs. Snob, Ragsel, and the whole tribe, or anyone that bothers you, Elaine."
"But, Philip, do be rational; release me from my oath; give me my freedom; we will never be happy married, or with our engagement still on; for she will grow bolder, and more persistent with each advance; do, for pity's sake, free me."
"No, no; you ask too much," he said, angrily, thinking of these comfortable quarters of which he should be master, and of the woman beside him also.
"But see how you left me for her last night; youmustbe fond of her."
"I amnot, so help me God; but I could not shake her off without making a scene."
"But just fancy, Philip; if we were married she would prowl about the place even more than she does at present."
"It is all your own fault, Elaine, that she gives you those scares in the evening; for she only comes when she knows I am about; if you lived more to yourself, and did not have all these women about you, I would come in the afternoon, like to-day; and she would be none the wiser, for she is at work in the day and can't come."
"It is a fearful life for me."
"Be reasonable, Elaine: any man as fascinating to your sex as I am must, of necessity, have women breaking their necks for them."
"How you amuse me," she said, smiling ironically, comparing him with someone else.
"I don't see why; you know I speak truth," he said, innocently; "let me come in the afternoon; don't have any one else; then, pet, she will not see me watching to see you when your guests are gone at night; and so you will not be troubled with her."
"But just think what a proposition you are making; she is to control our actions."
"Yes; but only for a time, pet; she will, perhaps, tire of pursuing me; if she had me, and you were out in the cold, I feel sure she would agree to my proposition."
"You certainly have a most amusing way of putting things."
"I know I have; it's my large, kind heart and wish to please; and when we are married I will both charm and amuse you."
"No, no; it will not be safe for me to marry you; for how about this other woman; would you charm and amuse her also?"
"Just as I was in the humor; if she angered me, I would not think twice of setting Tyr on her."
"Dinner is served, ma'am."
On repairing to the dining-room; and having done ample justice to a substantial dinner, prepared with a view to the possible advent of the Dales; and when the oyster soup, roast beef, with delicious vegetables, had been removed, dessert on, and Thomas dismissed, Mr. Cobbe said, in pleased tones:
"I must congratulate you on your cook, Elaine."
"Then you congratulate myself, Philip; for my seraph of the frying-pan knows next to nothing of the art; I devote two hours of each day to my culinary department."
"For which you have the thanks of your guests, and for which Bridget will make you pay."
"Yes; I know; but they all do it; when they feel their wings, they demand higher wages, or fly.
"When will you marry me, Elaine?" he said, lightly, as they entered the drawing-room.
"After all I have said, you still ask this," she said, freeing herself, and at her wits' end to know what to do with him, remembering her oath; but this woman, and what revenge she may take, terrifies her. Mr. Cobbe lights the gas; but the inside shutters must be shut; and as she closes them, he assists her, standing so near that his cheek touches hers.
"Don't speak to me like that, Elaine; we love each other; and hang her for coming between us; come here, pet, and sit beside me; it is a treat to have you all to myself."
"No; I am in no humor for atête-à-tête; and the Dales may arrive at any moment."
"Hang them; can't they go to a hotel; I dislike them; and surely you had enough of them, and that doleful Miss Crew, while Dale went north."
"Tastes differ, Philip; I have a sincere friendship for them; as to their coming now, most of my little friends' wardrobe is——"
Here a sharp ring at the hall door startled them.
"What! a ring; that woman will be the death of me; I tremble now, once evening comes, at every peal of that bell."
"Beg pardon, sir; a person—a—a lady, says she is waiting to speak to you, sir."
"Go, Philip, quick, for heaven's sake; this is dreadful," she said, in a gasp, holding her hand to her side.
"Mr. Blair," said Thomas; and the old goldportièrehangings are again closed, and they are alone.
"Forget I am with you; don't try to speak yet," he said, kindly leading her to a seat; "you will breathe naturally in a few minutes, you have been startled; but it is all quiet now; your servant carefully fastened the door; lean your head back to this cushion; there is something, after all, in material comforts. Ah, now your color comes, and your eyes—well," he said, smiling, yet with a grave tenderness, "your eyes have lost their startled look, and may again weave their spells." For she had now opened her eyes, keeping them closed so she could better listen to his voice as he talked on, giving her time to recover that self which in alarm had fled.
But with her nerves more quiet comes a thought which she must set at rest. So intent on her question is she, that self-consciousness is altogether absent, as, looking into his face, she says,
"You must be a married man; you are so good a nurse, knowing exactly what is best for one; are you?"
"No; I was," he said, indicating, by a gesture, a mourning ring on the third finger of his left hand.
"Forgive me; I should not have asked you so abruptly."
"I don't mind you, you don't seem a stranger; and my poor wife was an invalid, so that her death, thirteen months ago, was not unexpected."
"No; under those circumstances, you would be more or less prepared."
"Tell me, did you deem me impertinent to turn my eyes to your face when we have so frequently met, before our introduction?"
"No; else I should have to share in your blame; for I should not have seen you had I not been guilty of like fault," she said, drooping her eyes.
"Believe me, I couldna help mysel', lassie, no more than I now can help myself coming to your house, and feeling so at home with you, as though I had known you for years, instead of for days. Do you feel a little as I do," he said, in his eager earnestness, turning his blue eyes full on her face.
"I do; you will never be a stranger to me," she said, simply.
"Thank you; do you know that evening coming from the Grand, after 'Erminie;' I was in the seventh heaven after having been so near you."
"'So near, and yet so far,'" she said, smiling; "for the frowning battlements of the conventionalities were still between us."
"Yes; but I dreamed that your pretty lace fan would waft them away, being a woman (though, by your eyes, I feel sure a warm-hearted one); still, you cannot know how my heart leaped when I saw that you had forgotten your fan; my first impulse led me to follow you with it, but Scotch second-sight suggested the means I adopted, to tell you my name. How did you like it?"
"Very much, indeed," she said, smiling, as looking into his face half shyly, remembering how she had pressed his card to her lips; "I love both your names, for reasons I may tell you another time. Are you Highland Scotch?"
"Yes; and from fair Dunkeld."
"Indeed! you must be proud of your birthplace; the scenery must be beautiful, were it only in among your groves of trees. I love the giants of the forest so, that I wonder in the Pagan world they have not been as gods; now we sing,