"Mr. Cole, Charlie's father is at the Tremont Hotel, Jacksonville, Florida. My plan is to ask Miss Crew (as you don't require her services, and her mind is easier as to money matters), to accompany me for the remainder of the winter to the same place as my friend Charlie's father; he is a most worthy man and a gentleman. At the close of winter we would cross to the British Isles. To myself, a Canadian, it would be a complete distraction, as I have never been across; and I pray fervently, will take me out of self," she said sadly. "We would visit London and some pretty rural spots, the Devonshire lanes, perhaps; and then the Emerald Isle, thence to bonnie Scotia's shores; taking, perhaps, more than a peep at fair Dunkeld," she says, trying to smile in the grave face of Mr. Blair. "I have foreseen the result of my appeal to Philip, and so have been laying my plans for some days."
As she spoke, trying vainly to hide her emotion, more than one tear had been stealthily brushed away by her sympathetic little friend, who, seeing that Mr. Blair is suffering intensely, from suppressed feeling, says bravely, though rather doubtful at heart:
"Mark my words, Elaine, that woman will free you; say good night to us, Mr. Blair, I am medical attendantpro tem., and Elaine must take a sedative, and room with me to-night."
"You are right, Mrs. Dale; be brave, Elaine," he says, holding her hand in his firm grasp, "to-morrow your clouds must again pass. I shall come in after luncheon."
The following is an ideal Canadian winter day; the sky, a far-off canopy of brightest blue, with no clouds to obscure the sunbeams, which pour down on fair Toronto, melting the icicles when his smiles are warmest, and gladdening the hearts of the million. There is just enough of frost in the air to make a walk to town pleasant, cheering and exhilarating, so that Mrs. Dale is glad when Mrs. Gower proposes their going. The whole city seems to have turned out, and the streets are alive with the busy hum of life, and the tinkling music of the merry sleigh-bells.
Mrs. Gower, who had slept little, arose with the determination to appear reconciled to her fate, not wishing to add to the sorrow of Mr. Blair and Mrs. Dale, on her account; feeling that there will be time enough to give way, when "large lengths of miles" divide them. She cannot bear to dwell upon the separation, she has decided, is for the best, and dreads to think of her heart loneliness, with Mr. Blair gone out of her life, and the sympathy of Mrs. Dale, not beside her. How she will miss her quiet talks with him, his manly advice and interest in all her acts, the oneness of their views on many questions of the day—religious, social, and in part political. The Tremaines and Smyths also; with her many favorite walks and resorts, the public library, and other places of interest. Yes, to leave them all and her snug Holmnest, is hard; but to go on in the way events have shaped themselves—Mr. Cobbe, a privileged visitor, as her future husband; the woman haunting her home; her misery, seeing daily the grief telling on Mr. Blair would be harder still; so, nerving herself for the parting, she determines on making her preparations at once.
No one meeting the friends, as they walk into town, would imagine that the dusky shadow of sorrow sits in each heart; the pretty little face of Mrs. Dale being set off by a bonnet, with pink feathers, her seal coat and muff making her warm and comfortable. Mrs. Gower, in a heavy dark blue gown, short dolman boa and muff of the bear; a pretty little bonnet blending with her gown, the glow of heat from exercise lending color to her cheeks. Down busy Yonge street to Eaton's; Trowern's, with Mrs. Dale's watch; thence to gay King Street, to Murray's, Nordheimer's, the Public Library, back again West, and to Coleman's for a cup of coffee, are all done; at the latter place they run across Mrs. St. Clair with Miss Hall.
"Oh, you two dear pets, I am so awfully glad to have met you," says pretty Mrs. St. Clair, effusively; "I want to know when you can talk over a programme with me—tableaux, readings, etc., in aid of the debt on our church. Say when?"
"I really cannot, Mrs. St. Clair," said Mrs. Gower; "just at present I am very busy, and am daily expecting a small house party."
"Dear, dear! that is too bad; what shall I do; you are so smart, and would know just what would take. You will talk it over with me, Mrs. Dale," she said, beseechingly.
"No, thank you; on principle, I object."
"How funny! might I ask why?"
"Certainly. I think offerings to such an object as a church debt should be voluntary."
"But, Mrs. Dale, people expect a little treat for their money."
"They have, or we have, the church service, and the ministrations of the clergyman."
"That's just the way Mr. St. Clair damps my ardor," she says, poutingly; "I do so want to pose as Mary Stuart. Mr. Cobbe says I'd look too sweet for anything; you won't be jealous, Mrs. Gower."
"Oh, fearfully so; but joking apart; how do you think he would pose as Bunthorn?"
"I see you are laughing at him, Mrs. Gower?"
"Not at all; the twenty forlorn ones would keep him in good humor, and the bee in his crown would be a safety valve for his restlessness."
"No, no; I would not like that, and I wonder you, above all, would propose it; for the whole twenty would fall in love with him, he is so fascinating; don't you think so, Miss Hall?"
"Yes; but it would be good fun; you cawn't do bettah, Mrs. St. Clair."
"It has my vote, too," said Mrs. Dale, as she and her friend wish them good morning.
"What a well-matched couple Mrs. St. Clair and Philip would have made," says Mrs. Gower, as they go east to Yonge street.
"Yes, I have thought that before to-day, Elaine; it's a pity to spoil two houses with them."
Here they come across Mrs. Smyth waiting for a Spadina Avenue car.
"Oh, Mrs. Gower, who do you think I have just seen?"
"Perhaps our mutual friend Charlie Cole," she answered, smiling.
"Well, you are smart, to guess exactly; have you seen them? Isn't she frightfully ugly?" she says, in one breath.
"No, I have not seen them. What a pity she is not pretty. I received a letter from Charlie, saying to expect them."
"Oh, you sly thing; why didn't you let us know? Oh, how ugly she is! May we come round this evening? Here is my car."
"Certainly. We have been to your husband's office to invite you."
"Thanks. O!" she cried, stepping on to the car. "Will gave me a new piano yesterday."
"Whose make?"
"Ruse's, Temple of Music, over there."
"I congratulate you." As they walked on she continued, absently, "What a pity she is plain looking."
"Who; not Mrs. Smyth?"
"Oh, no, Ella; her animation will always make her pretty. I was thinking of Charlie Cole's wife. I wonder where she saw them?"
"Oh, somewhere in town, I suppose. So you expected them to-day."
"Yes, and I would have told you, but I want their advent to be a surprise for Miss Crew, whom I have frequently found secretly studying Charlie Cole's photo. She is so guardedly reticent, that I am curious to see if suddenly confronting him will cause her to show any interest in the original of the photo."
"But you should make sure of her, Elaine. She may remain at the O'Sullivans; and as I own to taking an interest in human bric-a-brac, I hope you will call for her."
"I fancy she will return for certain, as she tells me the couple we met on New Year's Day are coming to Holmnest this afternoon; the woman, quite a lady-like looking person, is to alter her black silk; but we shall call on our way home for her."
"Yes, that will be best, and here is our car; but it is too crowded. As members of the Humane Society we had better wait for the next."
As they wait in front of the Dominion Bank, Mr. Cobbe joins them.
"Good morning, ladies; won't you turn west, and have a promenade, Elaine?"
"No, thank you. Time has gone too fast for us already."
"O, pshaw! I want to speak to you. When do you return to New York, Mrs. Dale?" he says pointedly; disliking her, and feeling freer at Holmnest in her absence.
"I have not the remotest idea, Mr. Cobbe, indeed," she added, in return for his; "we may take dear little Holmnest off Mrs. Gower's hands if she carries out her present intention to leave Canada for a time."
"Leave Canada!" he exclaims, flushing.
"Please, stop the car, Philip, quick."
"What does it mean, Elaine?" he whispers, seeing them on board; but the bell rings, and off they go. Two yards distant, and he calls out, "I shall be up after office hours."
"Talk of cruelty to animals. I gave him a blow, but he richly deserves it. But I do believe, Elaine, you are sorry for him," she says in amazement, and under cover of the noise of travel.
"I am. He is his worst enemy. Yes, I am sorry for his weak, vain nature. A man without stability of character, in our stirring times, is of no more account than are the soap-bubbles blown by a little child."
Getting out of the car at Webb's, to leave an order, they there meet Miss O'Sullivan, who, with her own bright smile, comes forward quickly to shake hands.
"Oh, Mrs. Gower, I am so glad to see you. I have something to tell you. Miss Crew left our place for Holmnest at ten this a.m., and I have her promise to tell Mr. Dale her history, and ask his advice."
"I am glad of that, dear."
"Oh, so am I, she is such a darling; but I was not satisfied to have her without some good gentleman friend to advise her."
"Has she confided in yourself?"
"Yes, Mrs. Dale; but not until last night."
"Was it sensational enough to keep you awake, or, as I suppose, of no more interest than 'little Johnny Horner sitting in the corner eating his Christmas pie?'"
"You see, dear, Mrs. Dale is disgusted with Mother Goose for not telling us of his bilious attack," laughed Mrs. Gower. "Good bye, dear, here is our car, College and Spadina Avenue."
"You will not be disappointed in Miss Crew's story, Mrs. Dale. The bilious part is not omitted; poor dear, I am so sorry for her."
On reaching Holmnest they find Mr. Dale, who has returned from the North-West, and Miss Crew, in the library.
Mrs. Gower, not pretending to notice that the latter has been in tears, and to give her an excuse to make her exit, asks her to carry her wraps upstairs for her; and then to go and give them some music during the few minutes before luncheon.
"Mrs. Gower is taking better care of you, little wife, than you are of her, now that the roses from the frosty air are fading. I notice she is paler and thinner."
"Don't blame me, Henry," she answered, stroking his whiskers; "blame Mr. Cobbe. I declare to you both, I never name him without doubling my fists."
"My impression has always been, dear Mrs. Gower, that he will be no companion for you in the hand-in-hand journey through life."
"Yes; but you are not cognizant of certain facts which has led to our being in our present relation towards each other," she says, gravely; "and of which we must tell you, perhaps to-morrow. We have enough on for to-day, and there is the luncheon bell, come."
"Oh, Henry, do you know that the Coles are expected here to-day, and have you told Miss Crew? because, don't," she whispered hurriedly.
"No; I thought it as well not to," he said, in constrained tones, adding, "she has been telling me her sad story, poor girl; which you and Mrs. Gower will know shortly, little woman."
During luncheon, Mrs. Gower, seeing that her companions seem too full of busy thought to be talkative, exerts herself keeping up a constant flow of little nothings, requiring no replies; her spirits became less depressed by the effort to keep sorrow at bay, her pleasant walk to town has really been a tonic to her. And now the knowledge that the Coles may come in at any moment; that a handsome face, so full of power and sympathy with herself, will be here also; with the meeting by the Smyths and herself of the wife of their old friend Charlie Cole; all this is a powerful stimulant to her, as well as the little surprise and excitement for the quiet, fair-haired girl, with tear-stained cheeks, on her left.
"Would you like a trip down to Florida with me, Miss Crew. Orange groves and outdoor blossoms would be as a glimpse of Paradise, with one's eyes full of snow flakes."
"Yes; I should like to go anywhere with you, Mrs. Gower; that is," she adds, glancing, timidly, at Mr. Dale, already now he knows her history, turning to him as a child to a parent; "that is, if it would be best for me."
"Do you really contemplate this trip; if so, and you do not leave for a few days, I think it would be the very thing for Miss—, for this little lady," he says; thinking she is merely running away to escape the remainder of the winter.
"I do really intend going," she said, slowly, and with an unconscious sigh.
He looks at her earnestly, thinking there is some latent reason, when his wife, making amoueat him, accompanied by an almost imperceptible shake of the head, when, Mrs. Gower, changing the subject, says: "Did you see how Professor Herkomer has been lauding the Americans, Mr. Dale?"
"I did; but I only agree with him in part."
"Not so with me; I am at one with him, to the echo; but I should tell you I have only seen extracts from his expressed views, in which he says, 'he was impressed by their keen, nervous temperament, keen intelligence and ambition to excel;' and when he says America will become a leader of art in the nations as of nearly everything else."
"I don't go with him that length," he said, shaking his head; "give me the Old World for art in the present, as well as in the future."
"In the present, I agree with you, I think; but their very ambition to excel, their-go-ahead-ness, to coin a word, will, I feel convinced, gain them first place in the future."
"That's right, Elaine; give it him, he is too conservative, this dear old hubby of mine; the stars and stripes float over the smartest people on earth."
At this a general laugh makes them all feel less blue, Mrs. Gower saying, as they leave the dining-room:
"Well, let us see which of us, England, United States or Canada, will be the smartest in taking a few minutes' rest, and getting into a dinner gown." Wending her way to the kitchen, she meets Miss Crew, bringing water and seeds for the birds.
"Thank you, dear; that saves my time; when you have done that, run away up to your room, and put on your pretty heliotrope frock; the Smyths may dine with us."
"Very well, I shall; and oh, Mrs. Gower, may I tell Thomas when my friends come (you know I told you I am going to have my black silk altered), he is to show them into the dining-room; though, perhaps, they would not be called gentlefolk, still, they are not servants, and they are so good."
"The highest recommendation you can give them, dear; I shall tell Thomas myself."
Closeted in their bedroom, seated side by side, upon a lounge, Mrs. Dale tells her husband of Mrs. Gower's troubles, and the stratagem by which Mr. Cobbe has obtained her oath to marry him; of the woman who haunts Holmnest; of how for long months Mrs. Gower has been imploring him to release her from her compulsory promise. Also of Mr. Blair's love for Elaine; and of how he has surprised her into a confessing of her own for him; but of how in no way has she allowed him any demonstration of that love since those few moments on New Year's Day. Of her own and Mr. Blair's plan to induce the woman to speak.
"You astonish me, Ella!" he exclaimed; "but I agree with her; she cannot break her oath,she belongs to him; does she know of your plan to interview the woman?"
"Yes; but thinks we shall elicit no item of importance; but, Henry, dear, say nothing to her of our plan for this evening; I only tell you, so that should you miss Mr. Blair and myself, you will not remark on it."
"I see. How do you like this Mr. Blair; you know, I have only met him once?"
"I like him very much; you should hear that reticent Mr. St. Clair praise him. He is though, really, a manly, generous, straight-forward, determined fellow; just the reverse of Mr. Cobbe."
"Yes; well I hope it will come out all right for poor Mrs. Gower, though I had hoped that she and Buckingham would have made a match," he said musingly.
"So have I; but he has been too deliberate, a trait his German mother is to blame for; and he may have imagined there has been something between her and Mr. Cobbe. Now, hubby, I am just dying to know if Miss Crew has confided in you, and if there is anything worth a snap in her story."
"I cannot tell you just yet, dear; and, besides, we have not time; it is three-thirty, time for my little wife to dress."
On descending at four p.m., to her cheerful drawing-room, Mrs. Gower has so far conquered her feelings as to cause a casual observer to say, she is quite happy, and at ease; for her dark red gown is becoming, and she has compelled her mind to dwell only on the pleasurable excitement of a re-union with her old friend, Mr. Cole; wondering also what he will think of her new friend, Mr. Blair. The air, redolent of hyacinths and roses, tells her he is in the drawing-room; and the color deepens in her cheeks as her heart throbs faster.
He comes to meet her, from a table, piled with blossoms, which he is placing in Japanese and glass bowls.
"You will become bankrupt, Alec."
"Not while there are blossoms in the market, and you to accept them; I am a canny Scotchman, you know; you should always wear this gown," he says, quietly, pinning some roses near her chin.
"You said so of my old gold dress, you fickle man;" and, as she speaks, her eyes rest for a moment on his.
With a sigh, he returns to his task.
"Don't, Alec, it breaks my heart to hear you sigh like that, and I am trying so hard to keep up."
"I sigh that I am forbidden to take you in my arms," he said, gravely, as their fingers meet in arranging the flowers.
"But, you know, I am acting for the best."
"Do you allow him?" he said, with a steadfast look.
"Never, when I can prevent it."
"These flowers remind me of an incident I have often thought to tell you, Elaine. Do you remember one time, about a year and a half ago, going to make a call upon some people who were transient guests at the Walker House? they had left town; and while you waited, while this fact was being ascertained, a wee lady, an invalid, was carried in by an attendant, and placed on a sofa; she was emaciated and fair complexioned. On your leaving the parlor you asked her to accept a bouquet you carried; it was composed almost entirely of roses. Passionately fond of flowers, she was very pleased, telling you so; do you remember? but your face tells me you do. That poor little lady was she whom you had frequently met in the street with me, before she became too weak to walk; that was my poor little wife."
"And I met you as I was entering the hotel," she said, softly.
"Yes; I was going to Brown's livery stables for a cab; I generally went myself, instead of using the telephone, as Jessie thought I got an easier one."
"Poor little creature; I did not recognize her, because meeting her with you, she had always been veiled. I remember how pleased she was with the flowers; my kind friend, Mrs. Tremaine, had given them to me to brighten my room; I could not afford such luxuries then," she said, sadly. "Your wee wife had a sweet little face, and I frequently thought of her again. Meeting the manager, Mr. Wright, one day, I asked him about her, when he said 'she and her husband had left town.' It was all very sad for you, Alec."
"It was, she told me, a winsome lady, bonnie, and so strong-looking, had given them to her, and from her description, I knew it must be you. I endeavored, even then, to ascertain your name, but failed," he said, gravely, holding her hands among the roses for a moment in his own; when Miss Crew entered, with her work-basket, followed by the Dales, Mr. Dale carrying some open letters, with newspapers, which he placed carefully on a table beside him, as he shook hands with Mr. Blair.
"Talk about the sunny south," cried Mrs. Dale; "one sighs for nothing in this atmosphere; what with the sun streaming in all day from south and west, the perfume of flowers, the Christmas decorations not yet down, the glowing grate, even with the snow outside, we are pretty snug."
"I am glad you feel so, dear; I suppose with my small income, I am recklessly extravagant in not shutting out the sunbeams; but my furniture must fade, rather than that my flowers, birds and self, live in gloom."
"I think you said real estate is your business, Mr. Blair; have you opened an office yet?" inquired Mr. Dale.
"Broker and real estate is what I have been engaged in; but I have not as yet rented an office; there will be some good rooms over the Bank of Commerce, when completed; but that is a long look."
"Three years! a life-time, from a business standpoint; at least, as we look at things on the other side," said Dale.
"I wonder what the Central Bank will be converted into; it, I should say, is a good location, if the public wouldn't fight shy of a man hanging out his shingle from such walls," said Blair.
"The owners should give it a man rent free for a term of years, who would paint it white," said Mrs. Gower, half in joke.
"They have it black enough now," said Dale; "its career is a disgrace to the city."
"It is indeed," said Mrs. Gower; "and one of the worst features of the case is, that we have lost confidence; men are daily asking, who is to be trusted?"
"Here is theNorth-Ender, taking up the refrain; it says," said Mr. Blair, reading, "'other bank failures have been bad enough, but in sheer, utter, unadulterated baseness, this excelleth them all;' and here, in another newspaper, they say, 'whole families are beggared by it, having nothing to buy bread.'"
"How terrible!" cried Miss Crew, clasping her hands; "if I only had money," and she glanced timidly at Mr. Dale, "how much I should like to assist them."
Here Mrs. Smyth enters, full of excitement.
"Oh, I am here before them; I am so glad," she said, untying her bonnet.
"Allow me to take your things upstairs for you, Mrs. Smyth."
"Oh, thank you, Miss Crew; but it's too much trouble for you."
"Not at all."
"How lovely your flowers are, Elaine; you cause me to break the tenth commandment."
"Cease, then, and help yourself; as you love them."
"Thanks; oh, I just met Emily Tudor and her mother, on Huron street, on my way up; and what do you think; they have lost every cent by the Central. Emily and Mary have left school, and are looking for situations; the mother seemed just heart broken."
"How dreadful!" cried Mrs. Gower, "they are such a worthy, honorable family, and the delinquents! are rolling away in parlor cars to luxury in fairer climes."
Here Miss Crew returns, and Mrs. Gower, asking her to give them some music, in the midst of Leybach's "Fifth Nocturne," the Coles drive up, ring, are admitted, and announced by Thomas.
Had a bombshell exploded in their midst there could not have been more pity, astonishment, and dismay, than was felt by the group of friends in the pretty little drawing-room, at the sad change in poor Charlie Cole, and the shock experienced at their first sight of the extremely plain woman beside him with the stony eyes and termagant written on her brow. But horror-struck as they are, all wear society's mark, excepting the fair-haired girl, who still sits transfixed to the piano stool; in the introductions her back is turned, though she had had one glimpse on theirentrée, she having wheeled around for one instant; but now it is her turn, and Mrs. Gower, stepping towards her, laying her hand kindly on her shoulder, says, "Turn round, dear." Turning her small, clear-cut features, white as a statue, standing up, but not lifting her eyelids, she acknowledges the introduction in conventional form.
The face of Mrs. Cole, a dull red, with a redder spot marking the high cheek bones, took a momentary grey hue, while Charlie Cole, with a violent start, and a half-formed "oh!" dropped his heavy cane, for rheumatism still troubling him, he was obliged to use it as a support; Miss Crew made an involuntary step to reach it, but Mr. Blair is before her. On raising her head, her eyes meet the stony gaze of Mrs. Cole, at which, in spite of a visible effort to control herself, she trembles almost to falling.
"The piano stool is uncomfortable; take this chair," said Mr. Dale, kindly placing one beside his own, and giving her her work-basket. Oh, how grateful she is to him, as she bends over her wools and flosses.
"Allow me to take your wraps, Mrs. Cole, or will you come upstairs at once?"
"Never mind me, Mrs. Gower, I shall just unbutton my mantle."
"But you are going to stay with me, so may as well make yourself comfortable at once."
"Oh, I don't know, Mrs. Gower, Mr. Babbington-Cole requires such an amount of attendance, that, on second thought, it is best we should return to the hotel," she said, doggedly.
"But, Margaret, you told them at the Palmer House you——"
"It does not signify what I told them; that is past; perhaps your hearing has become impaired. I said, onsecondthought," now thinking—goodness, how they stare; think I am not spooney, I suppose; says, "You see, Mrs. Gower, I have to think for us both. A man's mind is not good for much after a long illness.'"
"My poor friend, you do look as if you had had a hard time of it," said Mrs. Gower, with latent meaning; "but you must know it would be a real pleasure to have you stay with me, and Mrs. Cole also. Do take off your muffler, Charlie, the room is warm. Excuse me calling your husband by his Christian name, Mrs. Cole, but it is a habit I must break myself off now."
"Yes, I suppose so, now he is a married man," she said, showing her teeth; "but he'd better keep muffled up."
"How did you stand the voyage, Mr. Cole?" inquired Dale.
"Very badly. You see I am pretty well battered out, and could not get about much. A stick is a shaky leg in mid-ocean."
"You are right. Did your uncle and aunt come out with you, Mrs. Cole?" continued Dale.
"What the mischief does that grey-haired, weasel-eyed man know, I wonder," she thought, saying, briefly, "Yes."
"Poor Charlie, you had nurses enough," said Mrs. Smyth; who felt so badly at seeing her old favorite so carelessly dressed, his last season's overcoat, and a purple and white muffler; looking feeble, emaciated, and unhappy, and with such a wife, that she is almost silent, and nearly in tears.
"Are you acquainted with Mr. and Miss Stone, Mr. Dale?" asked Mr. Cole, wiping the perspiration from his brow.
"No, not personally, but by reputation," he says, pointedly. "A friend of this little lady here," indicating Miss Crew, "who is also a friend of my own at London, has written me the particulars of your marriage."
"Indeed!" said the invalid, brightening, feeling braced up by being at last with friends; not so the woman he has married, who mentally wishes herself back at New York, in the congenial companionship of her uncle and aunt. She hates this pretty, modern drawing-room, with its comely women becomingly attired, its bright flowers, its home-like air.
Here Thomas enters, telling Miss Crew some friends wish to see her, at which she leaves the room for five minutes, with Mr. Dale.
"Do you purpose settling at Toronto, Mrs. Cole?" asks Mr. Blair, unconsciously referring to her as the best horse.
"I had some thoughts of doing so; but since seeing it, I rather think not."
While Mr. Blair momentarily occupies her attention, Mrs. Gower, with Mrs. Smyth, one on each side of their old friend, pet and sympathize with him more by looks than words.
On Miss Crew and Mr. Dale returning, the face of the latter wearing a set, stern look, he said, on seeing Mrs. Cole, arising to depart:
"Mrs. Cole, might I ask what has caused you to change your mind about staying with Mrs. Gower? You entered with the intention of making her a visit, and one can see at a glance that the being here would be a panacea to your unfortunate husband; I again ask, why you have changed your mind?"
During his words her face was a study, in its various stages of wrath, culminating in the hissing of the following words:
"If yours are Canadian manners, I cannot congratulate you, Mr. Dale. My reason for changing my mind ismyreason, not yours."
"Your words and actions, Mrs. Cole, force me to act at once."
"Come," she said, with a sneer at the speaker, now turning to her husband, "Come, Charles, I regret to interrupt these ladies in their attentions, but you must button up your top-coat."
"I wish you'd stay even for dinner," he says, nervously.
"No, the night air is bad for you, come at once;" and she fixes him with her stony eyes.
"Sit down again, Mrs. Cole;" said Mr. Dale, firmly; and to the renewed astonishment of all, "I have something to say to you."
"No, I take no interest in the sayings of an ill-bred man. Good-evening, Mrs. Gower."
"This won't do, Mrs. Cole; I regret your line of action, as it forces a disagreeable duty upon me in my friend's drawing-room, and not in a court of law, as I had intended. My friend Dr. Annesley, of London"—at this, she set her teeth in a determined way—"Dr. Annesley has written me the sad history of this little lady."
"You are a very rude man to detain me, while you prate of a perfect stranger," she says, her face blazing, and making a move to the hall, "Come, Charles."
Mr. Cole, instead of nearing her, hobbles across the room, seating himself beside Mr. Blair, whose face with its look of power, draws him unconsciously.
"In as few words as possible, Mrs. Cole, I affirm on oath, and from indisputable evidence, both from Messrs. Brookes & Davidson, barristers, London, England, and from parties now in this house, that you, with your uncle and aunt, Mr. and Miss Stone, late of Broadlawns, Bayswater, London, England, have," he said, sternly, consulting some English letters, "appropriated the income from the estate of your late step-mother, for the last ten years, to your own uses, merely sending a sum to pay expenses at school to your step-sister, who, to further your base ends, you had banished from her native land; which allowance, even, you cruelly stopped some three years ago; since which time she has been compelled to earn her own living. Not compelled, had she had the nerve to push her claims and assert her rights; but being a nervous, timid girl, the outcome of cruel treatment by you and yours, during her childhood, she, in fear of other evil deeds from you all, dropped her surname, and assumed the maiden name of her mother; and this poor girl, who by law and the will of her dead mother, the heiress of five thousand pounds sterling, per annum, was for two years, a mere drudge, as nursery governess, at New York City." Sensation! "By a wicked fraud, you also are married to the man to whom as a child she was betrothed; but I pass this over in consideration of the feelings of your unfortunate dupe, and of a lady now here also. To return to the servitude of the girl, your step-sister, whom you robbed of her birthright. A year ago, on my wife advertising, in the columns of the New YorkHerald, for a governess for our little son, the girl you have wronged, answering our advertisement, was accepted; and since that time has been an honored member of our little circle."
Mrs. Cole, who has only remained in hopes he would show his hand as to what steps the prosecution will take, now in uncontrolled rage bursts forth:
"Mrs. Gower, I ask you, as my hostess, to order a servant get me a hansom, at once; I never was so insulted in my life before!" her reason for asking for a cab being, she sees now she will go away alone, and the driver will know the streets.
"My friend, Mr. Dale, does not mean his words as insults, Mrs. Cole; and I fear, I must ask you to remain until he has finished. However, my servant shall immediately telephone for a hack;" and giving the order, it was quickly flashed to Hubbard's.
Mr. Dale, now taking the trembling hand of Miss Crew, led her forward, saying deliberately:
"This, my friends, is the heiress of whom I have been speaking; who has been so basely defrauded of her fortune. This is Pearl, baptized by the family name of Margaret (her mother's name), her father was the late Edward Villiers, and she is step-sister to Mrs. Cole."
To describe the sensation his words caused, would be impossible, no one attempting to hide their horror at the wicked conduct of Mrs. Cole and her relations; or their joy at their quiet little friend's good fortune.
"It is a put-up job, a black lie from beginning to end," shouted Mrs. Cole, driven to frenzy at her defeat; and before the friends of the man whom she has married, and whom she has despised for falling into the net; "my half-sister behaved so badly, we sent her to your pious city of New York, where she would find kindred spirits," she sneered; "and she was drowned three years ago in the Niagara River."
Mr. Dale had left the room during the congratulations of Pearl Villiers, as we must now call her; and now returns with the quiet-looking couple Mrs.
Gower had seen on New Year's Day; and who proved to be none other than our old friends, Silas Jones and his loved wife Sarah, who made oath to the truth of Mr. Dale's statements.
Insane at her defeat, at her loss of power, for which she had lived, for which she had sold her soul to Mephistopheles. In a rage at her humiliation before Silas Jones and his wife, whom she has hitherto walked over, whom she feels will rejoice with her victim over her discomfiture; and whom she feels will sing theTe Deum Laudamusover his freedom, which she knows he will grasp at as eagerly as the timely rope by the drowning man; and so, hissing forth many words of fierce invective and malicious threats, she takes the hack from Holmnest.
Mr. Dale's first expressive act on returning from escorting this amiable creature to the cab is to shake hands with Mr. Cole; then, crossing the room to Pearl Villiers, to congratulate her, he ascertains she has fainted.
"No wonder, poor girl," said Mrs. Gower, coming to her relief; "I expect, this is not the first time her terrible step-sister has caused her to find relief in unconsciousness."
"Do you remember, Elaine, she fainted once before, on Mr. Smyth announcing the marriage of Margaret Villiers with your poor friend here?"
"I do, distinctly."
"I wonder," continued Mrs. Dale, "was she aware of her mother's wish that she should marry Mr. Cole?"
"Yes, Miss Pearl knew it right well, poor, long-suffering darling," says Sarah Jones, who is supporting her, while whispering soothing words of comfort. She now recovers, and is able to sit up, smiling at the sight which meets her eye, of Mr. Cole shaking Silas Jones by the hand, as if it was to be perpetual motion. Then, hobbling to the mirror, tears off his unbecoming muffler, throwing it at Tyr; saying, half wild with joy at his deliverance:
"Away with her fetters; I shall begin to look like a Christian again; if I had a razor now, it would not be used on the jugular vein, but on my beard; but Mrs. Smyth, Mrs. Gower, see how grey I am, Jove!" and he gave a glance at the fair-haired girl, who withdrew her eyes, while both color. "Medusa was my pet name for her; oh, it was a den of villainy, eh, Sarah," he said, excitedly.
"It caps anything I have ever heard," said Dale, seeing how weak Cole looks, and making him take an easy chair.
"Dinner is served, ma'am."
After dining, Mr. and Mrs. Jones sitting down with them at the pressing invitation of Mrs. Gower, Mr. Dale read all the communications he had received relating to the fraud practised by Miss Villiers, and the Stones antagonistic to the interests of Pearl Villiers; Brookes & Davidson undertaking to prosecute in the interests of the latter, should she so decide. Before leaving England, some weeks previous, they had robbed and plundered the estate to such an extent as to reduce the actual income from five thousand pounds sterling per annum to three thousand.
These facts had been ascertained by Messrs. Brookes & Davidson, who said, as the delinquents had sheltered themselves beneath the stars and stripes, they were safe personally; but some of the properties could be wrested from parties to whom fraudulent sales had been made by Mrs. Cole. Her plea would of course be that she, Margaret Villiers, had wed Charles Babbington-Cole; but that had no weight, for a clause in the will would make such plea not worth a row of pins; they, the lawyers, only wishing they were in England, when they would indict them for fraud.
"You will prosecute the wretches, Pearl; for we are going to make you feel at home, and call you so," said Mrs. Dale, eagerly.
But the girl, saying in a low voice, though heard by all, that she will not go to law; that three thousand per annum is ample for her; that in most cases, perhaps, the lessees were not cognizant of the fraudulent sale, and so would be punished, while the guilty people were the gainers.
"They have a nice little nest egg," said Mr. Blair, indignantly; "so does the green bay tree flourish."
"Yes," said Mr. Dale; "and will likely pose as saints on the other side. Only that our little friend here would suffer much during a complicated law-suit, and that the enemy are hard to reach, I would advise her not to turn the other cheek, as she is doing but to fight; however," he says, smilingly, "for Canada, Miss Pearl, you are quite a little heiress."
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Silas Jones, as he and his happy wife bid them all good-night, "Sarah and I don't know how to thank you for your kindness to our Miss Pearl."
"Yes; may the blessings of heaven rest upon you for it," said Sarah, tearfully and reverently, as the girl kissed her, lovingly.
"Amen," said Silas; "and I would add that this poor gentleman has gone through a fiery furnace of affliction in his forced union with that vixen of the iron will and heart of stone; but she will trouble you no more, sir, it was only your name she wanted; it meant gold."
On the evening of the day on which the Coles' had arrived, and Miss Crew had come out in her true colors as Pearl Villiers, the heiress, in which her step-sister, Mrs. Cole, was branded with the name and character she has earned as devotee of the father of lies; there was so much to say, and so many to say it; so many hand clasps for the poor victim, Charlie Cole, on the incoming for his wife of Will Smyth, the Tremaines the A. Jones, and others, that the slipping out of Mrs. Dale and Mr. Blair, to meet the girl, Beatrice Hill, is unnoticed.
After waiting in the shadow of the house, building on the next lot, for a considerable time, and evening is fast waning into night, Mr. Cobbe appears in the distance, coming at a brisk pace; nears, opens the gate, is up the walk, rings, and is admitted.
"Now she will come, I fervently hope," said Mrs. Dale, impatiently; "horrid pair they are, interfering with our hearing the circus indoors. If our friend, Mr. Cobbe was mated to that hideous scold, Mrs. Cole, I reckon he would not get too much line. But she would never have trapped him, he knows too much; unless, indeed, she had settled half the plunder on him to close his mouth with the bon-bons that his soul loveth."
"Your words, Mrs. Dale, give me an idea; I wonder if he would pose as 'Pooh Bah,' and pocket an insult, in the shape of a bribe, to give our dear friend her freedom."
"Yes; I do believe he would," she answers, eagerly; "I wonder we have not thought of that before."
"But how can we work it; I cannot appear, though my bank notes are at his service; I wonder if your very philanthropic husband would undertake the delicate mission?"
"Indeed, he would; he just loves making rough places smooth for people."
"It is very good of him," he said, gratefully. "I fear this girl, Hill, is as slippery as Cobbe himself; you had better return to the house, and I shall go to her address, Seaton street; and if I do not find her, shall see if I can elicit any item of importance from others in the house."
"But you will wish to come in and tell Elaine good-night first; you will not sleep otherwise," she said, teasingly.
"You are right; but I must practise self-denial; indeed, it is my life just now, and endeavor to earn a blissful reward by gaining her release from Mr. Cobbe. Did you ever see such a contrast in faces and expression as that vixen, Cole's wife, presented, compared to our dear Elaine?"
"No; unless it was myself, which of course you did not see," she said, saucily; "but I like you all the better for it. I hate your men who are all things to all women; go now, and success attend you. Good-night."
Walking rapidly, winged love buoying him up, he soon reaches the Spadina Avenue terminus, when, fortune smiling, he has not to wait the twenty minutes for the car, for the driver is in the act of turning the horses' heads south. Entering, wrapt in thought, he does not notice the numbers on this broad highway who make their ingress or egress. Pretty girls, peeping from cloud-like fascinators, attended by their chosen valentine, or by chaperon, evidently, by their gay trappings, bent on scoring a last dance before Lent, for this is St. Valentine's Day, and to-morrow will be Ash Wednesday, and so good-bye for a season to the pleasures of Terpsichore. No, he is observant of nothing, excepting the many stoppages, at which he is impatient. Even electric lighted King street is passed through unnoticed; men thinking, on seeing his bent head and knit brows, poor fellow, probably bit by the "Central." Girls whispering, "He has missed the ring in his Shrove Tuesday pancakes this evening, getting only the button. What a pity, for he would be handsome if he would only see us."
At the crossing of his turn north, the driver calling Sherbourne street, he changes cars, and in due course leaves them, to walk up Seaton street. Reaching his number, he rings the bell of a small rough-cast house. A man in his shirt sleeves, and with the smell of fresh pine about him, opens the door.
"Does a young woman, named Hill, live here?"
"Yes, sir; just step in, please," and ushering him into a sitting-room, at one end there being a new pine table nearly finished, tools and shavings about. A woman, who is nursing a baby, says: "Take this chair, sir; but I'm a'most feared Beatrice has too bad a head to see you."
"Tell her, please, that I must see her, if she is able to sit up at all," he says, decidedly.
"Very well, sir," and going to another room on same flat, he could hear half-angry words and sobs.
The woman returning, eyeing him suspiciously, said:
"No, sir; she says as how she'll see you to-morrow."
"That won't do. Imusthave the information she has promised, otherwise the detectives will do the work for me at once," he said sternly.
"Detectives! oh!" she cries, quickly, in changed tones, leaving the room; when there is more parleying on the part of the woman. She now returns, saying:
"Please, step this way, sir."
Going into the girl's room, who is evidently a vest-maker, by the pile of said articles on a table, another on the sewing-machine. She gives a sulky nod, pointing him to a chair. She has a seedy gown on, untidy hair, and no collar, looking as if she cared for naught. There is an attempt at decoration on the flowered wall-paper, in shape of business cards pinned thereon, with the inevitable bow of ribbon; three cane chairs, a trunk, a bright rag carpet, two tables, and a small lounge, furnish the room. Conspicuous among the photos lying on a table, and the only one enthroned in a scarlet plush frame, is a smiling photograph of Mr. Cobbe.
Determined on showing nothing like feeling, in her half hysterical state, he says, briefly:
"Well, what have you to tell me, as you failed in keeping your appointment? I have come to hear."
"And suppose I go back on my word, and don't tell you?" she said, doggedly.
"Then you shall be made to speak," he says, with a brave front; though his heart is heavy at her words.
"Oh, I know what fine gentlemen's boasts add up to," she says, crossly and defiantly, dashing away her tears; "to just nothing."
"You shall be put in the lock-up if you are caught prowling about any one's residence after this."
"And what would you gain by that?" she says, cunningly.
While Blair, sighing for woman's tact, wishes Mrs. Dale was with him, when a sudden thought occurs to him; rising, as if to go, he says, with assumed carelessness:
"Very well; if you won't help yourself and me, by making a clean breast of it, things will have to take their own course, and that man," indicating by a gesture the photograph of Mr. Cobbe, "and that man will be lost to you, as the husband of a certain lady in the north-west end."
At this she is humble enough, her tears bursting afresh.
"Oh, no, no; I am just crazy to-night, that my Phil is with her; and I have been crying my eyes out, because I daren't go up, because of you coming out to make me tell on him; oh, oh, oh."
"But can't you see, girl, that this is the only way you will keep him to yourself, by telling what hold you have on him. If you don't, as sure as you are alive, he will marry yonder lady, and spurn you like a worm under his heel," he said, with angry impatience.
"Oh, never; oh, oh, oh, me! I suppose I had best tell, then." And going to the trunk, taking out a small box, which she unlocks with a key, suspended by a ribbon around her neck, she takes therefrom a few lines written on half a sheet of paper, handing it to him. It read:
"Simcoe St., March 16."Dearest Love,—Besureand be on time at the Union Depot. It's all nonsense your asking me to marry you before we start. It's not common sense of you. The other women who want me would tear your pretty eyes out. No, Betty, my petty. I will marry you when we get to Buffalo; not before; so do not make me angry, when you ought to be the happiest woman in Toronto at going away with your own"Philip."
"Simcoe St., March 16.
"Dearest Love,—Besureand be on time at the Union Depot. It's all nonsense your asking me to marry you before we start. It's not common sense of you. The other women who want me would tear your pretty eyes out. No, Betty, my petty. I will marry you when we get to Buffalo; not before; so do not make me angry, when you ought to be the happiest woman in Toronto at going away with your own
"Philip."
"Did he marry you?" asked Blair, placing the paper carefully in his pocket-book.
Coloring, as she hangs her head, she does not notice his act.
"What's that to you?" she said, doggedly.
"It's everything; speak, or take the consequences."
"He didn't, then; but he's not free to marry that hussy, since I have his writ promise, where is my paper? Give it me."
"Softly, softly, young woman; I want him to do right by you."
"But you'll only rouse the devil in him, sir; and he'll see me no more," she says, wringing her hands.
"Listen to reason, girl, I will borrow this paper, and on my honor; but pshaw, you won't credit me with so scarce a commodity," he says, half aside. "Lend me the letter until this time to-morrow, and here is ten dollars; when I return it you shall have ten more."
"Not much; you bet, it shan't leave my eye-sight for any money."
But after a weary talk she unwillingly consents; when he leaves the house.
During the next three days and nights Mr. Blair was half beside himself with anxieties, doubts and fears; for Mr. Dale, even with the letter to Beatrice Hill in his hand, could do nothing with Mr. Cobbe. As mulish as the girl Hill, he refused to release Mrs. Gower from her oath; finally, in fiery wrath declaring there would be a heavy breach of promise case, did she break faith.
The result was, that with the Dales, Pearl Villiers and Mr. Cole, at Holmnest, a busy week was spent.
Mrs. Gower telling Mr. Cobbe, since he would have it so, she would wed him sometime or other, parting with him at the foot of the altar, henceforth to meet as strangers; that but for his own acts, they would have been friends; but she could never forget all she had already suffered in nervous fear of the girl Hill.
And so, as rapidly as possible she prepares, as before arranged, to leave Holmnest for some months. Charlie Cole was to join his father at Jacksonville, Florida, the following day; Pearl Villiers and herself following. The house to be left in care of the kitchen, the Dales making it their home when in the city; but in a day or two, they would be most likely summoned to New York on peremptory business for a few days.
Mrs. Dale and Mrs. Gower were amused in a sad sort of way, for their thoughts were gravely set, on the attitude taken by Mr. Cobbe. Still, it was a sort of distraction to note the manner of each toward the other; of Pearl Villiers and Charlie Cole, the latter demanding, and the former seeming to think it her duty to wait on him, humor him, go out for little sunlit walks on the veranda with him, play his favorite music, and endeavor to make up to him for her step-sister's wicked act, in coming between them.
"It's a rather dangerous game though, Elaine; they will trade hearts unconsciously."
"Yes, I have feared that, Ella; God spare her from that misery," she says, gravely, with hands pressed to her own aching heart.
"Pearl," said Charlie Cole, as throwing away his cane, he leans lightly on her arm, as they pace up and down the sun-warm veranda, half an hour before the hack arrives to convey him to the Union Depot, "Tell me, Pearl, dear; but for my wretched union with your wicked step-sister, would you have married me willingly, mark me, willingly?" he says, probing her.
"I would," she says, truthfully, blushing vividly; "but I don't think it's quite right to talk of it now, Charlie, is it? only, if we had known long ago when we have met as strangers, Margaret might have been spared this sin."
"How your eyes seemed to follow me, Pearl. Our friend, Mrs. Gower, and myself have been the foot-ball of circumstances, she used to have instantaneous photographs of Blair, and is doomed to Cobbe; same fate as mine."
"My heart is full of pity for you both, dear; but try and think of it as God's will, and it will come easier."
"I know all that; but it's confoundedly hard that those vultures should have it all their own way."
On an evening at the close of February, when the mercury has risen so high that all nature is in a melting mood; the snowy mantle of winter disappearing fast on the warm bosom of dear old mother earth, while Holmnest is a very bower of love, a very haven of peace. Upstairs, downstairs, and in my lady's chamber, everything is warm, home-like, sweet and fresh; with dreamy, turned down lights, showing the dainty sleeping apartment of its mistress, with its blue and white prevailing tints, its lace bed-spread and pillow shams; its pretty feminine adornments, with three or four pictures, and a vase of fresh flowers giving life to its repose. But we notice in the dim and shadowy light, a something unusual, a something different, a new element in this, the bed-chamber of Elaine Gower; a something that makes the heart throb faster, and a look of wonder, with a smile of content come to the face, a something which gives a tone of strength, of completeness to this bower of rest; it is, that here and there, one can dimly see a man's belongings, and one remembers to have read, "it is not good for man to be alone."
But; and we start with fear, for the inanimate cannot speak and tell us if Mr. Cobbe has had his way, and those manly belongings are his; if so, if so, alas!
But the kitchen says, no, as with a broad grin of content it sits over thedebrisof a late dinner; when, at the tinkle, tinkle of the library bell, Thomas is away like a flash; we follow, peep in and see Mr. Blair, reclining on a lounge, holding between his fingers a cigarette; he forgets to smoke, a look of ineffable content and happiness on his manly face. He has rolled the sofa over beside the Davenport, at which sits his twin-spirit, the mistress of Holmnest, who is within easy reach of his hand, as she sits writing. She wears a gowncouleur de rose, and is looking very lovable, her face transfigured with quiet happiness. As Thomas appears, she says, in her sweet tones:
"No one is aware of our return, Thomas, so we don't expect visitors; but in any case, we are not at home."
"Very well, ma'am."
"My bride of a week; my ain wife, my other self," he says, his heart in his eyes, "bend down your sweet face and kiss me." Holding her in a close embrace, he says, "and so you are not sorry that a great, rough man like myself has crept into your bonnie Holmnest, and stolen your heart?"
"Nay, not stolen, dearest; mine has been a willing surrender; and you must not call yourself names in my hearing. Mine has been a very lonely life, especially of late years; and you don't know how humble I feel at this great happiness coming to me, or my restful content in leaning on this strong arm."
"There is one thing to be said for me, my own wife, and that is, that no other woman has a real or fancied right to lean on me. I have never been a flirting man, for which I may thank my father and mother, who aye were leal and true. What a picture they were in fair Dunkeld, going down life's hill together; he only living after her to close her eyes. How I wish they could have seen you, my other better self."
"Yes; it would have given me great joy to have met them; your words of them remind me, Alec, of a dear old couple who reside in our sweet Rosedale. A day in their home is a living idyl; to see his tender care of her crossing the bridge into Bloor street, is a life lesson; I used to liken you and your wee lost wife to them, dear. I must tell you of an incident that attracted me to Mr. Smyth more than years of acquaintance. Prior to an illness of his wife, she had a photo taken at Gagen and Fraser's. On her recovery we were comparing it with a previous one, when he said, 'I like one I have better than either of them.' His wife, looking amazed, said, 'What one, Will?' while I said, 'Show it to us.' He answered, 'This one,' encircling her in his arms."
"Only what he should have done, darling. Each for the other, shall be our motto; but must you write Mrs. Dale to-night?"
"Yes, dear; just fancy how eager she must be to hear, as they were called away so suddenly, and they are such faithful friends. Shall I hand you the evening papers to look at while I write, dearest?"
"No, thanks; I shall look at my wife's face instead."
"Holmnest, Toronto,"Feb. 28th, 1888."My Dear Ella,"We only returned home to-day; but as we, with Pearl, leave for Jacksonville on to-morrow, I must do myself the pleasure of a one-sided written chat with you to-night. My pre-arranged plan is to be carried out; but with what a light heart do I carry it out as Elaine Blair—is it not a pretty name. But lest you think me insane at my age, I shall not go into raptures over my name, or my loving life companion, who has given it me."I have so much to say, that I am in a quandary what to begin with."The day after you left we went down quietly to the early morning Lenten service, and at its close were married by my good pastor, leaving the same day for Niagara. You remember I used to say in jest, that to make a marriage legal, we Torontonians must go thither! so Alec and I are fast bound; thank God for His goodness. How little I dreamed of this two weeks ago. Your good husband has worked a miracle in obtaining my release from Philip; I cannot but think I have been bought out of that regiment; what different colors I am under now; poor Philip. His letter to me, in freeing me, is so truly characteristic of the man, that I shall amuse you with a line or two:'"...in releasing you from your oath to be my wife, I repeat that you will long for me once and forever! I am sorry for you, Elaine, for I am the only man to make you happy. If you marry that cowardly fellow who has run me out, take my advice, and have the knot tied loosely in the States, for I prophesy you will want a divorce before a year has elapsed; and then, as I bear you no malice, you have only got into bad hands; send for me, even then, and I shall give up every other woman admirer for you....' Is it not typical of Philip? Poor fellow; he little dreams of my restful content at the steadfast, manly heart I have won. He came in the afternoon of the day you left; though, you are aware, your husband had handed me his letter releasing me the evening previous; but he came to try and persuade me to destroy it, waxing eloquent overmy folly, and his regret for me and himself. Pretty Mrs. St. Clair calling while he was here, they left together. I again thought how well matched they would have been; she amused me—but I must tell you."You remember, we read in a city newspaper that a man suggested as a rabbit exterminator, fashion should decree that the ears of the aforesaid animal should be used in some manner of feminine adornment; but Mrs. St. Clair solved the problem of extermination; and if she and other leaders of fashion push it, the rabbit is a doomed creature."While the attention of Philip was momentarily given to Mrs. Tremaine and Miss Hall, she purred."'Oh, Mrs. Gower, I do want a rabbit's paw more than anything else in the world.'"'A rabbit's paw! what for?'"'To put my rouge on with, it's just the cutest thing out, for that. Do you paint, Mrs. Gower?'"I fancy I see your lip curl, and Alec asks me what I am smiling at. I tell him above, on the rabbit; and that my smile is the reflection of the laugh in your Irish eyes. He says I don't punctuate often enough to let him kiss me. Give me credit for a little sanity yet, Ella, for I know how foolish this sounds; but our great happiness is so dazzling after our dark days of despair, that I dare say we are a little daft."And now, for a startling bit of news that I have been trying to keep for the last—but it won't wait—a telegram arrived here yesterday for Charlie Cole, from Grand Central Hotel, New York City, from Mr. Stone, running thus:"'C. Babbington-Cole, Esq.,"'Your wife, Mrs. Cole, died suddenly of malignantsore throat, on the twenty-fifth, and was buried sameevening."'Timothy Stone.'"The first thing on our arrival this a.m., Alec wired the information to the Tremont Hotel, Jacksonville, to Charlie. And so death has stepped in, freeing him from an unhappy union, Pearl is not as yet aware of this; but we shall tell her on her coming over from the O'Sullivan's to-morrow. When we reach Jacksonville, she can procure the usual black robes."It appears that Mr. Stone has actually rented an office here, in which he will carry on the real estate business. We are informed that he and his late niece lived here some time ago, for a few years. A gentleman from the Grand Central, tells Mr. Smyth that Mr. Stone boasts of his large and influential connection here. And so, though some of our smart Central Bank men have skipped the line, we gain one that caps them all, in Timothy Stone."And now, to a brighter theme, our firm of Dale, Buckingham & Blair, with my ain dearie as manager of our Toronto branch. Graham & Graham tell Alec the agreement is drawn. Will do business on the square in mineral lands, and should get a bonus from the city, for no one heretofore has known where to place or purchase properties of this kind. And so we had better set our chant to music, and sing to 'dream-faces'—Oxides of Iron66.28Silica21.20Alumina3.70Lime5.04Magnesia2.19"Were you not glad to hear that Silas Jones is to be in charge of the office while we are away, and head clerk afterwards? I tell you, Ella, dear, when I think of winging our flight south together, thence to the Old World, in which fair Dunkeld stands out the brightest spot, I am half wild with joy. Barlow Cumberland, I am sure, thought me more than a little off when we were in buying our tickets."I verily believe I am growing egotistical; in all this letter, who has been foremost—self?"Madame de Sevigne was right: 'One loves to talk of one's self so much, that one never tires oftête-à-têtewith a lover for years. This is the reason a devotee likes to be with her confessor; it is for the pleasure of talking of one's self—even though talking evil.'"But should we meet at New York on our way south, I shall talk of nothing but your own dear selves, and Pearl will bring you news of Garfield; whom, I feel sure, she has seen every day during your absence."Thomas and Begonia (in days of yore, Bridget) will have everything snug for you any day you come. All our world seems so in couples linked, that though he is but sixteen, and she forty, I shall not be surprised to find them buckled, too."Times are changed, dear. I never even think of chains, bolts, or shutters. No more nervous evenings; no more starts at the bell; no more heart-aches; but arms leal and true to shield me, a heart fond and loving, all my own. Ella, Ella, with my faulty nature, I ask myself, am I deserving of this great happiness?"My dear husband is bending over me; but lest you deem him a flatterer, I must not tell you his words he bids me tell you; but no, he must say it himself. But he has taken away the ink bottle, lest I burn the midnight oil. One says of Aspasia, writing in ancient days of her Pericles, that 'happy is the man who comes last, and alone, into the warm and secret foldings of a letter.' And so the name of my dear husband, Alec Blair, comes here, Ella, dear, and I say good-night to you as he holds me in his arms, his eyes, with love's steadfast gaze, resting on my face."From your happy friend,"Elaine,"Who is affectionately and"abundantly yours."To Mrs. Dale, c/o Henry Dale, Esq.,"Hoffman House, New York City."
"Holmnest, Toronto,"Feb. 28th, 1888.
"Holmnest, Toronto,"Feb. 28th, 1888.
"My Dear Ella,
"We only returned home to-day; but as we, with Pearl, leave for Jacksonville on to-morrow, I must do myself the pleasure of a one-sided written chat with you to-night. My pre-arranged plan is to be carried out; but with what a light heart do I carry it out as Elaine Blair—is it not a pretty name. But lest you think me insane at my age, I shall not go into raptures over my name, or my loving life companion, who has given it me.
"I have so much to say, that I am in a quandary what to begin with.
"The day after you left we went down quietly to the early morning Lenten service, and at its close were married by my good pastor, leaving the same day for Niagara. You remember I used to say in jest, that to make a marriage legal, we Torontonians must go thither! so Alec and I are fast bound; thank God for His goodness. How little I dreamed of this two weeks ago. Your good husband has worked a miracle in obtaining my release from Philip; I cannot but think I have been bought out of that regiment; what different colors I am under now; poor Philip. His letter to me, in freeing me, is so truly characteristic of the man, that I shall amuse you with a line or two:
'"...in releasing you from your oath to be my wife, I repeat that you will long for me once and forever! I am sorry for you, Elaine, for I am the only man to make you happy. If you marry that cowardly fellow who has run me out, take my advice, and have the knot tied loosely in the States, for I prophesy you will want a divorce before a year has elapsed; and then, as I bear you no malice, you have only got into bad hands; send for me, even then, and I shall give up every other woman admirer for you....' Is it not typical of Philip? Poor fellow; he little dreams of my restful content at the steadfast, manly heart I have won. He came in the afternoon of the day you left; though, you are aware, your husband had handed me his letter releasing me the evening previous; but he came to try and persuade me to destroy it, waxing eloquent overmy folly, and his regret for me and himself. Pretty Mrs. St. Clair calling while he was here, they left together. I again thought how well matched they would have been; she amused me—but I must tell you.
"You remember, we read in a city newspaper that a man suggested as a rabbit exterminator, fashion should decree that the ears of the aforesaid animal should be used in some manner of feminine adornment; but Mrs. St. Clair solved the problem of extermination; and if she and other leaders of fashion push it, the rabbit is a doomed creature.
"While the attention of Philip was momentarily given to Mrs. Tremaine and Miss Hall, she purred.
"'Oh, Mrs. Gower, I do want a rabbit's paw more than anything else in the world.'
"'A rabbit's paw! what for?'
"'To put my rouge on with, it's just the cutest thing out, for that. Do you paint, Mrs. Gower?'
"I fancy I see your lip curl, and Alec asks me what I am smiling at. I tell him above, on the rabbit; and that my smile is the reflection of the laugh in your Irish eyes. He says I don't punctuate often enough to let him kiss me. Give me credit for a little sanity yet, Ella, for I know how foolish this sounds; but our great happiness is so dazzling after our dark days of despair, that I dare say we are a little daft.
"And now, for a startling bit of news that I have been trying to keep for the last—but it won't wait—a telegram arrived here yesterday for Charlie Cole, from Grand Central Hotel, New York City, from Mr. Stone, running thus:
"'C. Babbington-Cole, Esq.,"'Your wife, Mrs. Cole, died suddenly of malignantsore throat, on the twenty-fifth, and was buried sameevening."'Timothy Stone.'
"'C. Babbington-Cole, Esq.,
"'Your wife, Mrs. Cole, died suddenly of malignantsore throat, on the twenty-fifth, and was buried sameevening.
"'Timothy Stone.'
"The first thing on our arrival this a.m., Alec wired the information to the Tremont Hotel, Jacksonville, to Charlie. And so death has stepped in, freeing him from an unhappy union, Pearl is not as yet aware of this; but we shall tell her on her coming over from the O'Sullivan's to-morrow. When we reach Jacksonville, she can procure the usual black robes.
"It appears that Mr. Stone has actually rented an office here, in which he will carry on the real estate business. We are informed that he and his late niece lived here some time ago, for a few years. A gentleman from the Grand Central, tells Mr. Smyth that Mr. Stone boasts of his large and influential connection here. And so, though some of our smart Central Bank men have skipped the line, we gain one that caps them all, in Timothy Stone.
"And now, to a brighter theme, our firm of Dale, Buckingham & Blair, with my ain dearie as manager of our Toronto branch. Graham & Graham tell Alec the agreement is drawn. Will do business on the square in mineral lands, and should get a bonus from the city, for no one heretofore has known where to place or purchase properties of this kind. And so we had better set our chant to music, and sing to 'dream-faces'—
"Were you not glad to hear that Silas Jones is to be in charge of the office while we are away, and head clerk afterwards? I tell you, Ella, dear, when I think of winging our flight south together, thence to the Old World, in which fair Dunkeld stands out the brightest spot, I am half wild with joy. Barlow Cumberland, I am sure, thought me more than a little off when we were in buying our tickets.
"I verily believe I am growing egotistical; in all this letter, who has been foremost—self?
"Madame de Sevigne was right: 'One loves to talk of one's self so much, that one never tires oftête-à-têtewith a lover for years. This is the reason a devotee likes to be with her confessor; it is for the pleasure of talking of one's self—even though talking evil.'
"But should we meet at New York on our way south, I shall talk of nothing but your own dear selves, and Pearl will bring you news of Garfield; whom, I feel sure, she has seen every day during your absence.
"Thomas and Begonia (in days of yore, Bridget) will have everything snug for you any day you come. All our world seems so in couples linked, that though he is but sixteen, and she forty, I shall not be surprised to find them buckled, too.
"Times are changed, dear. I never even think of chains, bolts, or shutters. No more nervous evenings; no more starts at the bell; no more heart-aches; but arms leal and true to shield me, a heart fond and loving, all my own. Ella, Ella, with my faulty nature, I ask myself, am I deserving of this great happiness?
"My dear husband is bending over me; but lest you deem him a flatterer, I must not tell you his words he bids me tell you; but no, he must say it himself. But he has taken away the ink bottle, lest I burn the midnight oil. One says of Aspasia, writing in ancient days of her Pericles, that 'happy is the man who comes last, and alone, into the warm and secret foldings of a letter.' And so the name of my dear husband, Alec Blair, comes here, Ella, dear, and I say good-night to you as he holds me in his arms, his eyes, with love's steadfast gaze, resting on my face.
"From your happy friend,"Elaine,"Who is affectionately and"abundantly yours.
"From your happy friend,"Elaine,"Who is affectionately and"abundantly yours.
"To Mrs. Dale, c/o Henry Dale, Esq.,"Hoffman House, New York City."
"To Mrs. Dale, c/o Henry Dale, Esq.,"Hoffman House, New York City."