"Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been—A sound which makes us linger,—yet—farewell."—Byron.
"Gracious, Melindy; one would think the half-breeds were a-comin'. For mercy sake come out and hear the rumpus." Moses Spriggins had rushed into the kitchen, his eyes ready to start from their sockets.
Melindy was busy frying pancakes and setting the table for the evening meal.
"Now, don't bother me; you see the cakes is a-burnin' already,"— but Melindy did not complete the sentence for the toot of a horn near the barnyard proved that her better half had some grounds for his conjecture.
"It's a gang of roughs a-tryin' to git somethin' to steal. By jiminey! we'll settle em' sure as our name is Spriggins," and Moses made a rush for the guns and ammunition with all possible haste.
"Great scott! they're a-comin' round to the front door."
"I say! Mr. Spriggins, this is a nice reception for invited guests; open the door and let us in."
The words had the effect of magic. The door opened and revealed Moses and Melindy armed for fight with a good supply of ammunition in the foreground.
The scene that followed baffles description. The ludicrous expression upon the face of host and hostess is something to be imagined.
The roars of laughter were deafening and it was some time beforePhillip Lawson could make an attempt towards explanation.
* * * * *
"A what-do-ye-call-it weddin', Miss Lottie?" cried Moses, now re-appearing on the scene with his best clothes on, plus a flaring red necktie to match Melindy's "peerin out dress."
"A variety wedding, Mr. Spriggins. Now, you are not to blame any of the others for not sending you word because I made each one promise that it would be kept a surprise."
"Wal, I can tell you, it is a nice surprise, but I felt kinder skeered at the fust, eh Melindy!"
The latter looked quite bridish with her maroon dress and lace ruffles and white flowers—the same which she purchased at Manchester three years previous, still as fresh as if bathed in morning dew.
And the number of guests!
It was no wonder that Mr. Moses Spriggins was in a state of dire confusion as he surveyed the smiling throng of intelligence, grace and beauty, and last, but not least, the pretty and becoming costumes of the fair wearers.
Foremost in the group is Marguerite Verne. "She looks too good for anything," says the enthusiastic host as he contemplates the sweet maiden in a neat black satin frock relieved by a spray of forget-me-nots and pansies.
"And Miss Lottie, what shall I call you—a great big doll with a red shiny dress on."
"Moses Spriggins, I'm ashamed of your ignorance; why it's pink veiling Miss Lottie has on, and I'm sure she looks nicer than any of them china-faced dolls in shop winders."
"Wal, wal, Melindy, you wimin folks oughter know mor'n men folks," replied Moses rushing out of the front door to see if the "hosses were all seen to."
The best room never appeared to more advantage than on this festive occasion. The old-fashioned looking glass seemed to take pride in reflecting the pretty faces and sunny smiles, while the cheerful fire on the hearth played hide-and-seek with the brazen andirons, and sent out a glow of warmth that was emblematic of the big warm welcome of the generous family.
Each guest had to receive a share of Mrs. Spriggins' eulogium, and a lively time ensued.
But the crowning event of the evening was a still greater surprise.
Mrs. Spriggins had been summoned to the kitchen for a few moments, and on her return to the best room saw a sight that almost took away her breath.
The tables, chairs, and every inch of available space were crowded with such, a variety of useful and pretty articles that one might imagine himself in Blanchard's.
Poor Moses was for the moment speechless, first looking at one guest and then at another.
Mr. Lawson now came forward, and in a few well-chosen remarks addressed the host and hostess, and on behalf of the company tendered congratulations on the third anniversary of their marriage.
Wreathed in smiles the host arose to reply.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the latter giving his cravat a very artistic touch, "if Mr. Lawson wa'nt a lawyer I'd a-tried to say somethin', but I can't get a word out nohow, only Melindy and me will never forgit your kindness—and the skeare."
The applause that followed was long and loud, and as the good host made a hasty exit from the room, Marguerite did not fail to see the big tear that rolled down the sunburnt cheeks.
"And you noticed it too, my darling," whispered Phillip to his bethrothed, as he gained her side.
"Yes Phillip, I was just thinking that those tears were more precious than pearls—the essence of real gratitude."
"God bless you, my own," said the lover, seizing the little hand, and folding it so tenderly within his own.
But the time is not for love-making scenes, and the pair are aware of the fact.
Marguerite is ready to assist in doing anything that she can, and the guests now begin to make merry in real earnest.
A neighbor who could "perform upon the violin" was despatched for by the enthusiastic Moses, and the light fantastic was in indulged in with a zest, and all is "merry as a marriage bell."
Let us glance at some of the familiar faces as they pass to and fro through the figures of a quadrille.
Mrs. Arnold is opposite us, looking quiet and content. She is happy in the thought that she is trying to do her duty, and by striving to live for others to atone for the past.
"You are doing nicely, Mr. Spriggins," says she to her partner, by way of encouragement. "I believe that you make fewer mistakes than I do."
"Wal, they say one has to creep a-fore they walk, so I spose I can't be a dabster at the bisness yet—but jist look at them folks."
"Them folks" were Miss Lottie and a graceful young man who bore a striking resemblance to the young solicitor. The latter was Mr. Tom Lawson who had grown up an intelligent, manly fellow, and on having shown much ability as a civil engineer, had been appointed to a lucrative government position at Campbelltown.
Lottie hailed with delight her brother's flying visit, and when the two sallied forth to purchase a neat and chaste toilet set her delight was unbounded, and when the said articles occupied a conspicuous place among the wedding presents no guest was happier than this impulsive little maiden.
"But can't that insurance man fling himself in great style," cried the radiant Moses, eyeing a certain official of the Dominion Safety Fund who, at Miss Verne's request, was also a guest.
Mrs. Arnold smiling at her partner's earnestness, cast a glance towards the object of the remark then replied, "It was so kind of Mr. —— to join us as his time is limited."
"Wal, one good turn deserves another, Mrs. Arnold, for Miss Verne praised up that consarn so that I went right off and got all I could to join it, so you see all through this life it's give and take?"
"Quite true, Mr. Spriggins, but we don't always live up to that principle," said the other with a shade of sadness in her tone.
Mr. Spriggins had penetration enough to see in what, direction Mrs.Arnold's thoughts were drifting and his discretion came to his aid.
"Wal, this ere affair will be a nine-days wonder among the nabers, the folks will be so jealous that they'll not come to have a squint at the brick-nacks—that's what you call them ere ornaments and sich things ain't it?"
"Bric-a-brac, Mr. Spriggins," replied Mrs. Arnold, in the mildest manner possible; also trying to appear serious.
"Wal, I'll be jist like Melindy. When she's a-puttin on airs before the nabers sometimes she'll tell 'em she ain't out enough now to know sich and sich things!"
The music ceased before Mrs. Arnold had time to reply, and with an air of awkward gallantry Mr. Spriggins led his partner to a seat.
"Never say again that you can't dance, Mr. Spriggins," cried the exuberant Lottie, bounding toward the latter with the grace of a fairy, "and be sure to remember that you are my partner for the next round dance."
"Round dance," said Moses in perplexity.
"A polka for instances, Mr. Spriggins!"
"Oh, yes, when I used ter go to school the gals used to have me a-dancin'—this is the way it goes Miss Lottie," and instantly Mr. Spriggins was performing sundry evolutions to his own accompaniment of "I've got a polka trimmed with blue."
"If that Moses ain't a-makin' a guy of himself a-dancin' I'd like to know," cried Melindy, as she emerged from the kitchen and caught a view of her better half in his inimitable polka feat.
But Mr. Spriggin was unconcious of the fact and nothing happened to mar the effect of the successful attempt.
The brilliant Louise Rutherford might indeed claim more than a passing thought; her striking beauty was never more conspicuous that when surrounded by her most intimate friends and partaking of the hospitality of Mr. Moses Spriggins.
With due respect to host and hostess, the young ladies had appeared in their most bewitching toilets, and in response to Marguerite's playful reminder, "Louise, it is a wedding celebration," the latter had donned a handsomely-trimmed garnet silk relieved by a heavy gold necklace, while a broad band of gold crowned the dusky hair and made a fitting coronet for the dark-eyed Houris.
"I cannot realize that you are going away so soon, Helen. It is selfish to wish that you would remain this winter, but self is my besetting sin."
Helen Rushton put her plump white arm around the speakers waist, and thus they sat for several minutes.
Helen was to start for home on the first of the week following, and her companions could not bear the thought. Louise Rutherford loved the girl as a sister, and though their natures were strongly in contrast there was a firm bond of sympathy between them.
"Just think Louise how many changes have taken place since I came? Who then would have dreamed that Josie Jordan would become a clergyman's wife?"
"Think!" said Louise, with considerable feeling, "I dare not let myself think, each day brings its own thoughts. Life to me is made up of enigmas and puzzling contradictions, and not being endowed with an extra amount of brain power content myself with the comforting words—''tis folly to be wise.'"
"What shall I call you, Louise, a pessimist?"
"For goodness sake! Helen, be moderate. Remember that a successful speaker always adapts himself to the capacity of his hearers."
"What's all this about? preaching I suppose—something about hearers! Jennie Montgomery!" cried both girls in concert.
Cousin Jennie was truly the ruling spirit of the party. She was ready for anything that was proposed and met each difficulty with a happy solution.
Had Louise Rutherford gone further into the subject of changes she might have claimed the bright eyed Jennie as illustration.
A change had come to happy "Gladswood," Leslie Graham had won the esteem of aunt Hester, and in return had gained the heart of her daughter.
The fond mother does not regret her loss for she knows that the young man is possessed of all those traits of character which are truly noble and elevating, and which cannot fail to bring happiness to her whose happiness is his only concern.
Ah! yes, in Jennie Montgomery's face one can read her secret. She loves and is loved in return and that is all we wish to know.
A few minutes later, by a happy coincidence, there is a quartette grouped together in careless but artistic style.
"This reminds me of a morning at 'Sunnybank.' Do you remember itMadge?"
A slight quiver of the pretty lips was followed by a faint blush—Helen Rushton raised her hand as if to gain audience.
"That is intended for me girls. I am the only one who is not engaged. I was at 'Sunnybank' on the morning to which Miss Louise refers, and certainly I was the one who made the remark."
"Helen is mistaken, I think," said Marguerite in her soft, sweet way.
"She is indeed," said Louise, with much earnestness. "It was while we were in the library, and all sitting together Josie Jordan suddenly called out: 'Girls where will we all be two years from now? That two years expired yesterday, and the thought now occurred to me as we became grouped together in the old familiar way."
"Forgive me, Louise, darling, I am too impulsive. Let us now take on two more years and hope that when the time expires we will be as happy then as now."
"Heaven grant it thus," was the fervent prayer of each, though the words were unsaid, and as the merry party returned homeward full of life and gaiety there were none who felt happier than Marguerite Verne and her three companions.
* * * * *
A glorious autumn day in 1886 brings together a joyous and happy group—the old familiar one. The hostess of the luxurious home is the wife of Phillip Lawson. Ah! Marguerite you can never lose your angelic beauty and softness of expression. In the violet eyes there is a light that sheds a radiance over the little household, and imparts a warmth to each suffering heart that has been chilled by contact with the selfish and calculating world.
"Helen you are a darling! you are true blue!" were the words which greeted the smiling visitor as she pounced in upon the fair young matron, with the flush of excitement upon her fair, broad forehead and oval cheeks.
"Girls you look charming! One would think you were expecting your beaux instead of a few old married men! Why I thought when folks got married they did not primp at all."
"I'm glad that you are agreeably mistaken, my dear," said Mrs. Noyes, her charms enhanced by the rich bronze silk de Lyons, that set off her faultless form to advantage.
Mrs. Arnold now entered, followed by Mrs. Verne and a host of hearty congratulations were passed around within a very short time.
Mrs. Phillip Lawson's boudoir was a perfect gem in itself, its pale blue and silver draperies harmonizing with the taste of its mistress, while the delicate and artistic touches of the graceful hand were proof of the labors of love there performed.
"Madge! you old dear, the only thing I envy you is this charming spot," said Helen as she stood admiring the pretty work while the others are reclining upon the inviting ottomans, and cosey chairs of the most unique designs.
"The very words I said when I first entered it," said Cousin Jennie, looking as youthful as when we met her at "Sunnybank."
"The effect of mind upon mind," said Mrs. Noyes, with a sly, roguish smile upon the red pouting lips.
Helen Rushton threw herself into a handsomely carved fauteuil with cushion of pale blue satin, embroidered with a wreath of lily of the valley and soft cream roses.
"How time flies!—two years girls, since we made our promise—and I am the only old maid left in the crowd. What a world of consolation is in that thought!"
"Helen Rushton this is a fit place for your confession, and you shall not stir until you have made it, my precious one."
The speaker was Cousin Jennie, now Mrs. Leslie Graham.
Mrs. Lawson sat for a moment as if buried in earnest thought, and as her companions glanced at the sweet, sympathetic face they were also affected in turn.
The past with all its light and shade was lovingly touched upon, and as the gentle Marguerite's eyes were dimmed with tears her heart was full of gratitude.
Helen Rushtondidmake a full confession of her love affairs, expressly for Cousin Jennie. What that confession was we will not say, but presume upon the imagination of the reader. It is several hours later. Helen has retired to her own room, and her old friend lingers lovingly beside her. They chat of other scenes and other days, and the hour flies too quickly.
A step is heard coming through the hall. Ah! the magic of that step.
"It is Phillip, Helen," and a gleam of love lights up the angelic face.
"Good night, dearest," exclaimed Marguerite, embracing her friend in the old school-girl fashion.
"Good night, Marguerite, if my life be indeed half as happy as yours; it is all I ask."
"Yes, Helen, I am truly happy," and the young wife went forth to meet the loving embrace of a tender, true and devoted husband.
"Ah! my darling, where is to be found such happiness as ours?"
Phillip Lawson needed no reply—no other language than the depths of those violet eyes.