"He will help you, then you can get through more quickly. You had better explain to my daughter, Mr. Hackett, about the amount of income there will be in the future. She is the housekeeper here, though I expect she will not remain in that position very long after I am gone. I am glad I purchased this property when we first moved here. It is increasing in value every year, and, if they should ever find it necessary, they can sell it and be comfortable in a smaller place, but this will not be needful for some years, if things are properly managed. There is another thing, Mr. Hackett, which I wish you would see about for them. Look around and find a respectable middle-aged couple that will be capable of giving the necessary help about the house and grounds. The place needs a man around it to keep it in order, and if his wife looked after the work in the house they would give better satisfaction than single people, I fancy. I cannot think what they will do when Dexie has left the house," and he sighed heavily.
When Mr. Hackett departed with the missing papers, Mr. Sherwood called her to his side and explained many things which would have to be seen to after his death, and Dexie sat and listened with quivering lips and hands clasped, palms downwards, across her lap, in an agony of mind, until she fell on her knees beside his couch, crying,"Oh! papa! dear papa! what shall I do without you!"
Her father stroked the ruffled hair and soothed her by his tender words till her tears flowed less freely and her sobs were checked, when he added:
"Now, I want to speak of yourself, Dexie. Do not keep Traverse waiting for you after I am gone. He has been very patient, and it has been on my account that he has waited so long for you. I am not blind to the trouble which you have borne so bravely and quietly these few months back; you have had little time to prepare anything for your new life, as most girls like to do, but this shall be made up to you, my dear. I have thought sometimes I would ask you to have your marriage performed here before me, but I will not be so selfish; that should be the happiest hour of a woman's life, and it would not be so to you under such circumstances. Louie has brightened the house by her coming, but she will soon be returning to her aunt, and then I am afraid you will find it harder than ever, my dear little Dexie."
Mrs. Sherwood came into the room, and finding Dexie sobbing on her father's pillow, was much alarmed.
"What is it? Are you worse, Clarence?" she cried, hysterically.
"No, no, dear wife, not that. But I have been giving Dexie some directions regarding matters after I am gone, and it makes her feel badly, poor little girl! She has been a good daughter to us, wife; so do not forget it when she needs your help and sympathy, and that time may be nearer than you think."
Dexie could bear no more, but she must not grieve her father by her tears; so rose hurriedly, and kissing his brow, left the room. She met Louie in the hall, and alarmed her by her grief.
"Is papa worse, Dexie?"
"I do not think so, but he has been talking to me about things which must be done when he is gone, and it breaks my heart! Poor papa! he is so kind and thoughtful, he seems to remember the smallest thing that we shall need to look after, and advises about them. I am afraid it will not be many days, Louie, before it is all over, and Ibelieve he thinks so himself," and she went to her room to sob away her grief.
It was evident to them all the next day that Mr. Sherwood was rapidly sinking, and Dexie scarcely left his side for a moment.
Once when he woke from a troubled sleep he smiled into her face, and said faintly:
"She sang it very well, didn't she, Dexie? the 'pastures green,' you know. I never have forgotten it. Can you sing it now for me?"
"Try to tell me a little more, dear papa. Where was it you heard it?" trying in vain to think what had called forth this request.
"At Dr. Grant's church that Sunday morning in Halifax. You know—the new singer you wanted to hear. I know all about the 'pastures green' now, Dexie, but sing about it."
Instantly the Sunday morning so long ago flashed back to her mind, and with one arm around her father's neck, as she kneeled by his side, she sang:
"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want.He makes me down to lieIn pastures green; he leadeth meThe quiet waters by."
Her voice trembled, but there was a happy ring to it withal, and presently she saw that he slept again, his face looking happy and peaceful as it rested on the pillows.
When the doctor made his usual visit, he stayed a long time in the room, and he looked very serious as he called Dexie to the door.
"You realize how ill your father is, do you not, Miss Sherwood?" and he looked earnestly into her face. "Ah! I see you do. I wished to prepare you for the worst. I will come in later in the day and see if I can be of use."
"You think there is immediate danger, Dr. Brown?"
"He may live through the day—not much longer, I fear. You have been expecting this, have you not?"
"I was afraid of it," and she hid her face in her hands.
"Is there anyone I can send for, for you? If I can be of use in any way, Miss Sherwood, command me."
"Someone must tell mamma; she does not believe the end is so very near. Would you do it? Does papa know it himself, doctor?" she added, after a pause.
"Yes, and he wished me to make it known to the rest. Be brave a little while longer. Now, go back to your father. You can rely on Jarvis; she knows what to do, and has been through many trying scenes before to-day."
"Shall we send for you if—" She could not say it, but the doctor knew what she meant.
"Yes, if you like. I can do little, if anything, more; but he will not suffer any. Now I will see your mother," and he turned and left her to her grief.
It took some time for Mrs. Sherwood to fully realize the truth, for she listened to the doctor as if dazed. It was the first trouble that had ever really touched her, and at the suggestion of Jarvis she went to her room, where by degrees she grew calmer, as the terrible truth came home to heart that she was soon to be left a widow and her children fatherless.
When Louie came into her father's room a few moments later, and learned the truth, she threw her arms around Dexie's neck and wept with her. This was the darkest hour they had ever known. But there was no time to indulge in grief at present—that would come later—and Dexie whispered:
"Take Gussie up to her room, Louie, and tell her there, and do not let her come down till she is quiet. Warn Georgie not to go away from the house; papa may ask for him any minute. I am so thankful the doctor has told mamma! Watch the door, Louie, and when the minister calls to-day try and persuade mamma to see him. She would not see him the last time he was here. Oh, dear! I shall be so glad when Guy comes in!"
"Give me one little bit of comfort to cheer my heart this sad day, Dexie. Tell me, what is Guy Traverse to you—do, Dexie?"
"Dear Louie, youshallknow, if you think it will comfort you any. He is my promised husband."
"I thought so all the time, and I am so glad!" and she turned away to prepare Gussie for the dreaded hour.
The time passed heavily and sadly, until the day drew near its close. Mrs. Jarvis was sitting near the bed, watching, with the eyes of an experienced nurse, for any change, and presently she bent over Dexie, who was kneeling by the bedside, and whispered:
"I think I had better bring back your mother. Do you think she can bear it?"
"Shemustbear it!" Dexie answered, with a sob.
As Jarvis left the room, Guy quietly entered it, and saw at a glance that the end was near. Dexie gave him one appealing look as he came beside her.
Bending over, he laid his arm across her shoulder, and whispered:
"Is there anything I can do, darling?"
Dexie shook her head, and the look on her face told of the anguish that was wringing her heart.
Seeing that her father had opened his eyes, she bent nearer.
"Are you in pain, dear papa?"
"No, dear child; and I shall soon be where that question is never asked."
Lifting his eyes, he saw Guy, and his lips parted in a smile.
"So glad you have come, my boy!" and he held out his hand. "You have indeed been like a son to me from the very first. You will be good to my little girl, and do not wait to claim her; take her very soon, and do not let her fret for me. Raise me up, Traverse! Ah! that is easier," as Guy seated himself on the bed, and raised his head and shoulders on a pillow with his arm.
Supported by Guy's arm, and with his head leaning against Guy's shoulder, Mr. Sherwood embraced his wife, who was led to the bedside by Jarvis, and Dexie bowed her head from the sight of the despair written on her mother's face.
The family were soon assembled around the bed. Mrs. Jarvis lifted Flossie in her arms, and telling her to "kiss papa good-night," laid her on the bed beside him a moment, then carried her from the room, and the few loving words spoken to Georgie did much to make him grow up a true, good man.
Gussie was overcome with grief when she realized that her father was dying, but Louie's loving arm was thrown around her, and she restrained her sobs to hear her father's last few words.
It was a sad scene. The dying father, supported in the arms of Guy Traverse, was looking for the last time on the faces of his family. Dexie, kneeling close to where Guy sat, with one of her father's hands clasped in both her own, was silently weeping. Mrs. Sherwood was kneeling on the opposite side of the bed, her face hidden against her dying husband's breast. Louie and Gussie stood near, their arms around each other's waists; while Mrs. Jarvis stood behind them, her arms extended across their shoulders, as if she would willingly protect them from this anguish if she could. Poor Georgie sobbed at the foot of the bed, a picture of childish woe.
The minister's words of peace and comfort, spoken at this moment, were sorely needed, for the prayer had scarcely ended when Mrs. Sherwood raised her eyes to her husband's face and saw the change that passed over it. A few murmured words fell from his lips as he looked into her face, then his eyes closed and his spirit was gone to the God who gave it.
Guy laid the form gently back on the bed, and something in his face must have told the stricken wife that all was over, for her piercing shriek chilled everyone to the heart.
Guy was just in time to catch Dexie's fainting form and bear her from the room, when the children round the bedside understood that they were fatherless.
Many changes took place in the household during the weeks following Mr. Sherwood's death. It was a sorrowful time to live through, and a most unpleasant memory to look back upon.
These were days of trial to Dexie. There was no one in the house that she could turn to for sympathy, forLouie had returned home the week after the funeral, and the house seemed desolate.
Mrs. Jarvis was called away by a case of sickness in another household, and Gussie, finding herself free from all restraint, made so many unreasonable demands on the patient and willing domestic that she refused to submit to it longer, and left the house; consequently, the actual work of the household, as well as the care and responsibility, rested on Dexie's shoulders.
Mrs. Sherwood had not left her room since the day her husband was buried, and her frequent hysterical attacks were very alarming to the rest of the family. She seemed as fretful and helpless as a child, and quite as unreasonable, almost blaming her husband for dying and leaving her alone in the world.
When Dexie tried to draw her thoughts away from their sad bereavement, she charged her daughter with being hard-hearted and unsympathizing in the extreme, and it seemed as if she did not wish to be comforted.
Lawyer Hackett attended the funeral, but as Mrs. Sherwood was not able to discuss business matters at that unhappy time, he promised to return later on and explain all things necessary.
Dexie awaited his return with much anxiety, for the expenses of the funeral, together with their necessary mourning, left little ready money to meet the daily expenses, and it was only by the strictest economy that she managed at all. Her "scrimping," as Gussie called it, met with no favor from anyone; and though Mrs. Sherwood talked of "ordering" this and that from the store, Dexie positively refused to be the mouthpiece of the order. They could do very well till Mr. Hackett arrived, she said.
Dexie missed her father sorely, and the one bright spot in the long, toilsome day was when Guy came in the evening. Then they would walk out together through the quiet streets to the country beyond, and she always returned refreshed and strengthened to bear the burden of another day.
As yet they had made no definite plans for their future. Dexie wished to see the household matters settled in amore satisfactory state before attempting anything that would benefit her own condition.
When the lawyer had explained to her mother the business matters which she had refused to discuss during her husband's lifetime, then it would be time enough to lay her own plans before her.
The appearance of the couple whom Mr. Hackett had secured to assist in the house and garden was daily expected, and Dexie looked forward to more freedom on their arrival.
One day, as Gussie answered the summons to dinner, she surveyed the table scornfully.
"Is this all that you have for dinner? This is the third day, Dexie, that you have given us no meat.Youmay like a vegetable diet, but I am sure no one else in the house does. We might as well dine at the poorhouse."
"Well, Gussie, you know it is not my fault," Dexie said, sinking into a chair with a tired sigh. "I cannot make things out of nothing, and my housekeeping money has come to an end. If you had not insisted on those extra dresses for yourself, the money would have lasted until Mr. Hackett arrived. I am sure he was not aware how little ready money there was on hand or he would have arranged for the expenses that were necessary. It is no use to fret, Gussie; there is plenty in the house to keep us for weeks yet, if we live plainly. It is a shame to worry and find fault because you have not everything you want when we have such a comfortable home left to us."
"But we can't eat the house or the furniture in it," Gussie snappishly replied, "and I am just tired and sick of the things you have given us to eat lately. I haven't the least appetite for your 'plain dishes' that you spend so much time over."
"Very well, Gussie, if you can prepare something better out of what there is to cook, I wish you would do it. I do not prepare your meals from choice. I have work of my own to do, and would prefer to keep out of the kitchen altogether, if it were possible."
"Well, I guess you'll be pretty hungry beforeI'llgo inthe kitchen to cook!" said Gussie, with uplifted nose. "I have no intention of messing myself up for other people."
"You do not need to 'mess yourself up.' I don't; and you may have to do more disagreeable things than that yet. I am going away for a rest as soon as the woman comes and gets used to the house, and she will not be able to see after everything without some help. Those starched clothes that you put into the wash every week with so little thought of the extra work they make—she will not be able to do them, if she has to see about everything else. There is a whole basketful there now, waiting for you to iron."
"Waiting formeto iron, indeed! Why didn't you do them when you ironed the rest of the clothes?" her temper rising at the bare suggestion that she should do them herself.
"I had too much else to do, Gussie, as you might know if you would give the matter a thought. You must see after them yourself, Gussie—while we are without a girl, anyway."
"We will just see about that! I never had to iron my clothes yet, and I am not going to begin now. I want my tucked skirts to-morrow, so see that you have them ready for me," and she rose to leave the room as if the matter settled.
"You will find your clothes in the basket, Gussie, whenever you choose to iron them," Dexie quietly replied, unmoved by Gussie's insolent manner, "and remember, Gussie, I positively refuse to do them for you again—never once again, remember!"
Glancing out the window she saw Guy Traverse approaching the house, and not wishing him to see Gussie in her present humor she took her hat, intending to meet him at the door and take him to the garden; but her mother called her just then, and when she came downstairs Guy was standing in the hall.
"You are not going out, surely, Dexie?" said Gussie, coming out to see who she was talking to. "Mamma would not let you go if she knew that you refused to do what I told you. It would be better for you to go to thekitchen and finish your work, instead of gadding about with the men."
"My work is done for the day, Gussie; it is your work that is waiting in the kitchen," and she hurried down the steps, with Guy closely following, his face dark with anger at the insulting words he had heard used to his promised wife.
"And this is the way they treat you, my darling!" he said, as he reached her side. "I understand why you never want me to come in and spend an hour with you; you are afraid I shall hear how they talk to you. I have a good mind to take you to the minister's this very afternoon, and make you my wife, so I can look after you."
"Do not mind it, Guy," trying to keep back the tears. "Gussie was vexed because she did not find her clothes done up for her as usual."
"And she is actually imposing on you to such an extent as that, is she? That explains that pale, tired face! My dear little girl, I cannot allow it! Do you love me well enough to come and live in a set of rooms until we can get a decent house ready?" and he looked tenderly into her face.
"I could live happy with you in one room, Guy, if I could leave home, but I cannot do that just yet. I must stay until Mr. Hackett comes back. I know they cannot do without me just now, dear. I would go with you willingly if I could, for I feel so tired and discouraged. Mamma thinks I neglect her if I am not constantly waiting upon her; but there are the children to see to. They are good little things, but they take up the time, you know, and the hours seem to more than fly."
"But if you were not there, dear, perhaps your mother would rouse herself; and I do think that would do her more good than all the doctoring she is getting, and Gussie should be able to be of as much assistance as yourself."
"Perhaps you are right, Guy, but it does not seem right for me to leave them now, and so soon after papa's death, too," and her eyes filled again.
"But you know your father said we were not to let that delay our marriage, dear. I feel quite sure he knew youwould not have a happy life, so wished you under my protection."
"Don't tempt me anymore, Guy," said the quivering lips. "You do not know how my heart cries out for the comfort and relief that you offer me. I know very well I am only tolerated at home on account of my usefulness, but they do not understand what it would be like if I were not there. Gussie has not the necessary practice to make her the help she might be, and mamma would be sure to suffer if I left them before the new help arrives. Besides, Guy, I have not had time to prepare a thing for myself yet," she added, in a low, shy voice.
"You have not had time to get the rest you need, darling, and that is of more account than anything else. You must not think I am going to let you stay home and have Gussie abuse you while you make up a lot of finery. Be my little wife in earnest, darling, and whatever you want you can get just as easily after you are married as before. I never could see the sense in women making up such a quantity of new clothes just before their marriage; it always looks to me as if they were afraid their future husbands would not give them what they required when they were married."
"Let me speak to your mother to-day, Dexie, dear," he added, "and I will tell her that it was your father's wish that we should not delay our marriage; and I must insist that you be used with more consideration. I really cannot let matters go on without some protest; it would not be right for me to allow it, either."
"Very well, Guy, do as you think best; they cannot make it much more uncomfortable than it is at present."
But in this Dexie found she was mistaken.
Mrs. Sherwood listened to Guy's manly and straightforward declaration in silence, though her raised eyebrows showed something of her surprise as well as displeasure. She admitted she had no right to refuse her permission for their marriage if her father approved of it, but it was "quite like Dexie to keep her in ignorance of the true state of affairs." Of course, the marriage must not take place for some months yet. The impropriety of it so soonafter her father's death was quite shocking, even to hear it suggested; besides, Dexie could not be spared from home. When Guy reminded her that Dexie should have the rest she evidently needed, her manner became icy at once, though she kept her indignation well in check until Guy had left the house.
"So you have been complaining to Mr. Traverse, have you?" she said angrily to Dexie. "We will see hereafter if you do not have something to complain about! If you are thinking of getting married to Mr. Traverse on purpose to shirk your duties at home, I will see to it that youearnyour wedding while youarehome. As for being married in the near future, your father's death will certainly forbid that, and I think Mr. Traverse will find that you are still under my authority, and that I am not quite so fond of him as your father was."
"Do not have any fear, mamma, that I will ever ask for a wedding that would be so grudgingly given," said Dexie, with quiet dignity; "but I think I have already fairlyearnedmy wedding, if that is the way you choose to put it. I hardly think anyone will ever hear you suggest that Gussie mustearnher wedding before her marriage can take place, and I think I have been as good a daughter to you as Gussie has—I have tried to be, anyway, mamma."
"Gussie will never have the low tastes and plebeian ways that have made you such an eyesore to me. She is too much of a lady to delight in the domestic economy that you always aspired to, and when her time comes I shall see that she has a wedding that shall fill your heart with envy!" said the now thoroughly angry woman.
"I think that will not be possible, mamma," said the low, quiet tones, so unlike the Dexie of old. "It is not to the wedding I am looking forward with so much happiness, but to the loving husband I shall gain thereby, and the future happy life I shall spend with him. I am thankful to say that I do not need a grand wedding to make me perfectly happy," and Dexie left the room, her face white and sad as the result of the interview.
Gussie soon learned the true state of affairs, and Dexiehad reason to be thankful that Guy had not spoken at an earlier day.
To most mothers, the few months or weeks previous to a daughter's marriage, the heart is full of loving consideration for her; the new position which her daughter is soon to fill arouses all her tenderness, and she is full of love that is not unmixed with pity. But mothers are not all cast in the same mould, and Mrs. Sherwood thought of Dexie's marriage only in the light in which it affected herself. Dexie was a necessity in the household, and she would see that Dexie had no spare moments; she must make herself doubly useful, and prepare fortheirfuture comfort; and as Gussie held to the same opinion, only declared it more frequently, Dexie had anything but an easy time of it.
One day when Gussie was harping on the same string, yet found it impossible to get Dexie to tell of her future plans, she retorted:
"Well, I think you have acted shamefully! I wonder what Hugh McNeil will say when he hears you have thrown him over again!—but I warned him! I told him just how you had been flirting with Traverse, and I am quite sure Hugh spoke to him about it, too! But you have been like the dog in the manger—you would neither take Hugh yourself nor give anyone else the chance of getting him. I might have had the benefit of his money if it had not been for you! I suppose you think you are smart to 'cut out' Guy Traverse's city girl, but it just shows how mean you are, though I can't see for the life of me what any man sees inyouto admire!"
Dexie looked at her sister with flashing eyes. She longed to tell her what a ridiculous mess of mistakes she had got into. But what was the use! she would not give way to her temper if she could help it, though it was a temptation hard to resist.
"Sometime, Gussie, you shall know all about Guy's city girl, if for no other reason than to make you thoroughly ashamed of yourself; and if you only knew how far from the truth all your surmises are, you would not be so free to talk. You make yourself ridiculous, if you only knew it!"
The next day, much to Dexie's delight, Mr. Hackett made his appearance, and easily explained the cause of his delay; and as he wished to have a final examination of all the papers in her father's desk, he asked Dexie's assistance, giving as a reason that a certain Mr. Plaisted had put in his claims for a large amount as soon as her father's death had been published. After explaining the matter to Dexie, she knew at once where to look for the proof needed to refute such claims, and placing the copy of the letter she had brought home from Prince Edward Island into the hands of the lawyer, she told him all the circumstances connected with it, and the break in the business intercourse with her father in consequence of it.
"Well, that Plaisted is a regular scamp!" said the lawyer. "I will take this letter with me, and with the knowledge I have now of him and his doings I fancy he will not care to face a judge and jury to enforce his claims, as he so boldly announces his intention. If I had known of this, or had taken this bundle of papers with me before, it would have saved me much time and annoyance. However, this time I will leave nothing but what you can claim as your father's gift, Miss Sherwood. The desk and its contents are now yours."
"Now, Miss Sherwood," said he, later, "I am ready to see your mother and have a talk with her; and if you will bring along the bills, which I daresay are rather heavy, I will see to their settlement."
"There are no bills to settle, Mr. Hackett—none, at least, that I know of; everything was paid for as it was ordered. I must confess we are about penniless, though," she smilingly said, "and if you had delayed coming for many more days we would have been like Mother Hubbard, with a bare cupboard."
"Why, you do not mean it, surely! Well, well! I never thought of such a possibility! But, then, I never thought you would try to settle the bills out of the money left for other purposes. Other things might have waited till I came to look after them myself."
"It has not hurt us to practise economy, and I did not want people to think that papa did not leave us enough topay our expenses, so I paid the bills as long as the money held out. I had a little saved up, and that came in very handy, but I shall be glad to get something on the housekeeping account. They have all been protesting against the lack of variety on the table, till my sister thinks she is boarding at the poorhouse."
"Oh, not quite so bad as that! not quite so bad, I hope! But you should have written to me, my dear Miss Sherwood, and told me about it. You have managed wonderfully. I have come prepared to settle all accounts and arrange about the future; but, by the way, I have something here for yourself," taking a package from his breast-pocket, and handing it to her. "Your father directed me to give you this. Oh, it is all right!" as Dexie exposed a roll of bills. "Your father explained it to me the last time I saw him, and I think myself it is only fair that the daughter who watched over him and waited on him so faithfully should be especially remembered. It is all right, and will come in very handy when the wedding comes off. There! don't mind me! Your father told me all about it, and explained many things which I need not have known if there had been any chance of his recovery. But he knew someone must take an interest in you as a family, and I am paid to do it, so it is all right, and the money is justly your own, for you helped to earn it—yes, this was received from his publishers for the work you helped him to do."
"But I have a twin sister, Mr. Hackett," Dexie began, as she counted the bills in her hand, "and I ought to share this with her."
"Not at all! not at all, Miss Sherwood," was the decided answer. "Your mother will supply your sister's wants willingly, which I fear would not be the case with yourself, if you were left to her generosity. Pardon my plain-speaking, Miss Sherwood; it is sometimes necessary, and I know what I am talking about. It is your father's gift—a wedding present, if you like to call it—and is intended for yourself alone, and in my opinion is not half what you deserve, there! I am an old man, comparatively speaking, but my eyes are young yet."
Dexie led the way to Mrs. Sherwood's room, where her mother was anxiously awaiting the appearance of the lawyer. She had become quite alarmed at the want of money, and insisted that Dexie must have been wilfully extravagant. But as Dexie produced all the accounts, and went over them before Mr. Hackett, Mrs. Sherwood was obliged to confess that the blame was not all on Dexie's shoulders, though she thought some of the bills extremely exorbitant, and could not be convinced that the extras which Gussie had ordered made such a difference.
Mrs. Sherwood found the interview with the lawyer very satisfactory, and she viewed with pleasure the roll of bills he left for their immediate use; and, at the sight of it, Gussie made a mental list of various luxurious articles she had long desired to possess.
Dexie was putting the desk in order when Mr. Hackett returned through the room, and he stopped for a few minutes' conversation with her while he drew on his gloves.
"I omitted to tell your mother, Miss Sherwood, that the woman to whom I referred when I was here before, will be ready to engage with you in about two weeks. Both she and her husband have excellent references, and I think they will suit very well. I believe you will find them both very trustworthy and worth waiting for. Do not hesitate to write to me if any difficulty should arise," and bidding her a cordial "Good-bye" he left the house.
Gussie was not pleased over the fact that Dexie had to "waste all the morning over those old papers," though she had not dared to remonstrate in Mr. Hackett's hearing, for she stood very much in awe of the lynx-eyed lawyer, who seemed to read her through and through with his keen grey eyes.
"How much longer are you going to be over those papers, I'd like to know?" she said, as she heard the front door close behind him. "The idea of you sitting there, and the dishes not washed yet!"
"Well, Gussie, you might have washed them before this; you have had plenty of time. I must put away these papers while I have them sorted out; then I will do what I can in the kitchen. Try to manage till I am done,Gussie; I won't be long now," and she looked up with a smile, as she tied a package of MSS. together and laid it away snugly in the drawer.
"You can finish those papers after you see to your work," said Gussie authoritatively. "You need not think you are going to be allowed to sit here all the afternoon, for Mr. Hackett left mamma a lot of money, and I guess we'll see who is going to run the house after this."
"Well, Gussie, that last remark of yours suggests good news," said Dexie, with a good-humored smile. "I will be delighted, indeed, if someone will take my place, for I feel sadly in need of a rest."
"Oh! I did not say you were to give up any part of the work! I guess you'll have to do that, whether you want to or not; but mamma says that I am to be the housekeeper and do the ordering after this," and there was a triumphant ring in her tone.
"Well, I was afraid that you would never care to do that, Gussie, and I am glad to see you are willing to undertake the difficult task; but the woman that Mr. Hackett is sending us cannot come for two weeks, so we must look up someone to do the work until she comes. Janet Robinson goes out by the day; I think we had better send for her."
"Well, the idea! Hire a girl so you can sit in the parlor with Traverse, I suppose! You managed well enough since Eliza left, and I guess you will get no chance to play the lady in this house! The kitchen is your place, and that is all you are fit for!"
"Then I throw up the situation from this moment!" said Dexie, hotly, thoroughly aroused at last. "It is quite time I turned my attention to something higher—to the making of blue or green dogs on canvas, for instance! Hire a servant to wait on you before night, for I will not step my foot into the kitchen again! I'll find something to do in a more congenial latitude," and Dexie thrust the remaining papers into the desk in startling confusion, locking the several drawers with a snap.
As Gussie left the room she rose to her feet, intending to send word to Guy to come and take her away, but, as sheturned about, he caught her in his strong arms and held her close to him.
"Oh, Guy! how long have you been here?" and she burst into tears.
"Long enough to make up my mind that Gussie shall never get the chance to insult you again as she has done in my hearing. Dexie! it makes my blood boil to know that you are treated in this manner! You must come away with me! I cannot leave you in the house after hearing those words said to you. You must not refuse, darling!" and he wiped away her tears and kissed the white face in his arms.
"Oh, Guy! if you onlywouldtake me," she sobbed. "I was just going to send for you, and beg of you to take me at once."
"I ran in to tell you that I am called to the city on business, and must go on the 5.30 train, so come with me, darling. I have a married sister living in Boston, who will make you right welcome, and we will be married as soon as the ceremony can be performed. Will you agree to this plan, my darling?"
"Yes, and bless you for the chance of getting away so quickly; but oh, Guy! I seem to be all alone since papa died!" and the tears fell afresh.
"You will not be able to say that in a few hours' time, dear; but I must hasten—I have an appointment at my office this minute. I will be back for you in less than an hour, and will see your mother then. Now, go and get ready for your journey, my little wifie," and with a tender embrace he hurried away, and Dexie flew upstairs to her room.
She had barely time to lock the door when Gussie came towards it.
"Open this door at once," she said, as she found it locked. "Mamma says you are to go to the kitchen and finish the work, and if you make any more fuss about it you will be sorry for it."
No answer, for Dexie had swiftly turned the contents of her trunk out on the floor, in one promiscuous heap, and was repacking it with a swift and practised hand.
"Do you hear what I say, Dexter, or shall I repeat it?"
"I have resigned my place in the kitchen, Gussie," came the reply, "and do not intend to enter it again; besides, I have accepted a better situation since I saw you downstairs. I am packing my trunk to leave the house, so you see I cannot be disturbed."
Gussie stood dumb with astonishment at this unexpected announcement, but of course it could not be true!
"Oh! never mind your high tragedy airs just now; open the door at once."
"I fancy that the tragedy part of this performance will be enacted by yourself, Gussie," was the reply. "I shall not open the door till I get my clothes packed; if you choose to wait till I am done, pray do so. I will not be any longer than I can help, as I intend to take the first train for the city."
Gussie applied her eye to the keyhole, and the limited view she had of the room was enough to convince her that Dexie was certainly packing her trunk, and she flew to her mother's room with the news.
Mrs. Sherwood could not believe it. Leave the house just when they needed her the most! Impossible! She sent Gussie back to the door with a peremptory message for Dexie to come to her room immediately.
"Tell mamma I will be there in a few minutes. I am almost through packing, and if I were you, Gussie, I would go at once and see if that Robinson girl will come and stay with you till the new cook arrives; and do have a care how you speak to her, for mamma's sake. Do not imagine that something will happen to prevent me going away, for that is a settled fact!"
Gussie hastened back to her mother in alarm.
"She is really going, mamma, and says she won't come out of her room until she gets her trunk packed. Oh! what shall we do with no one in the house to do a thing for us! I did not mean to vex her when I spoke to her as I did," bursting into tears.
"So it is your fault that, she is going! Are my troubles not heavy enough that you drive the only help I have away from me? What will become of us if Dexie leavesus, for you are as useless as you are extravagant!" And the mother scolded and complained as if Gussie alone were responsible for the trouble. "Go at once and make some amends for your ill-tempered words," she added, "and perhaps Dexie will overlook it, for my sake."
Gussie returned to the closed door, and in contrite tones begged for admittance.
"Do let me come in, Dexie. I am sorry I vexed you, and you are not in earnest about going away, surely, for you know we cannot spare you."
Dexie threw open the door, saying: "Come in and judge for yourself, Gussie. You see I really am going," she said, snapping the catch of her travelling bag. "If my sudden departure puts the rest of the family to inconvenience, you can blame yourself for it, Gussie; but you are just as strong as I am, and should be able to fill my place. However, if you think yourself above being useful, I hope you will not delay in getting someone else here, for you know you could not have driven me out at a more inconvenient time, for there is literally nothing cooked in the house."
"But where are you going? Not to auntie's with Louie, surely?"
"No. I should not like auntie to have a worse opinion of you than she has already. In leaving home I am consulting my own happiness, and I am going where I shall be kindly treated and warmly welcomed."
"Well, I'm sorry now I said anything to vex you, Dexie; so you need not go, after all."
"Your repentance comes too late, Gussie, for my plans are made; but I do not want to go away with any ill-feelings to any one, so here is my hand, Gussie."
"Oh, if you are really going, I'll not shake hands and make up with you! If we only had some help in the house I would be glad to get rid of you. I don't believe mamma will let you go, anyway," and with a toss of her head she left the room, saying to herself: "She'll have to unpack her things when mamma gets hold of her, so why need I humble myself to her."
Dexie was soon in her mother's room, listening to thereproaches that were heaped upon her without stint; but as no reply was given to them, Mrs. Sherwood looked at her intently, and something in the mother's heart brought to her attention the wan, white face of her daughter. She had not noticed that Dexie looked so worn and thin, and for a moment her heart smote her.
"What is this I hear, Dexie?" she said at last. "Do you think I am going to allow you to leave the house like this? You are forgetting that you are still under my authority."
"But you do not use your authority fairly, mamma. You have made my life very hard and unhappy since papa died, and permit Gussie to be impudent to me, even when I am doing everything for her comfort. I would have stayed a few weeks longer, but Gussie has gone too far and made it impossible for me to stay another day, so I am going away to be married."
"Married! Dexie, are you crazy?"
"No, I think no one else will think so, when they know that I am exchanging my present life for one so much happier."
"But, Dexie, I will not allow this! To be married in such haste, and away from home, without any preparations whatever! I forbid you to leave the house with such an absurd intention."
"I am sorry to have to deliberately disobey you, mamma, but I have passed my word and have no wish to take it back. I admit it would have given me much happiness to have been married from home, but it is doubtful if I could live long enough toearna wedding, so it is best as it is."
"And you talk of being married, and your father not dead three months yet! Oh! you heartless girl! And you pretended to care so much for him! You shall not do this shameful thing! Fancy how people would talk!"
Dexie burst into tears at the mention of her father, and turning to leave the room, she heard Guy's voice in the hall below.
"Are you nearly ready, my darling?" as she ran down the stairs to meet him.
"All ready, but mamma is not going to let me go without some trouble, Guy."
"Take me to her at once, dear, and do not be alarmed. She will not forbid our marriage, so dry those pretty eyes."
Mrs. Sherwood found she could not talk to this stern-faced man as she did to Dexie. She felt embarrassed at his replies to her many objections, and the truths that Guy put so plainly she could neither deny nor refute.
"It was Mr. Sherwood's wish that our marriage should not be delayed," was his answer to this objection, "and according to Dexie's wishes it will be strictly private. As to the unkind remarks which you fear will be made about our rather hasty marriage, I will take it upon myself to silence them, directly they reach my ears, by explaining Dexie's unpleasant position at home since she has been without her father's protection."
Mrs. Sherwood saw it was the best policy to give her sanction to the marriage, seeing she had no power to prevent it; but when she offered, after some hesitation, to give Dexie a sum of money to provide her with an outfit, Guy refused to allow Dexie to accept it.
"It is no matter, mamma," Dexie said through her tears, for the interview had been most distressing. "Papa gave me the money he received from his published sketches, so I will do very well."
Mrs. Sherwood did not care to ask what the sum amounted to; but having a poor opinion of her husband's literary efforts, she considered that it could not be much.
"I hope you will not regret this hasty step, Dexie," as Dexie came to her side to wish her good-bye. "You cannot expect me to think kindly of you when you leave me in such a way as this."
"Well, mamma, you know I am obliged to seek the protection of a husband that has been denied me as a daughter; I hope you will not miss me very much. Will you not kiss me good-bye?"
Her mother turned her cheek, but Dexie waited in vain for the kind parting word she longed for.
"I am sorry to leave you, mamma. Think kindly of me sometimes. Guy takes me because he thinks I need his love and care."
"Go to him, then! You have made your choice!"
With this dismissal, Dexie hurried to the hall where Guy was awaiting her, wiping her eyes as she went.
"Well, for my part, I'm glad to see the last of you," said Gussie, following slowly after her sister. "You have always stood in my way, and your Puritanical notions have spoiled many pleasures for me; so whatever tearsIshed will be tears of joy."
"Thank you, Gussie; that speech is all that is needed to remove every vestige of regret I may have felt at leaving home," was Dexie's reply, an unusual light in her dark eyes. "Come, Guy, I am quite ready," and without turning her head she passed out the door of her own home to the untried future that she was to share with Guy Traverse.
"My heart aches for you, my darling," and Guy pressed the hand that rested on his arm. "Let Gussie shed her tears of joy while she can, for, if I am not mistaken, they will flow for another cause before the week is out."
A kinder welcome could not be imagined than Dexie received from Guy's sister when they arrived in Boston, for Mrs. Graham had heard so much of Guy's "little girl" that she took Dexie to her heart at once.
The mental disquietude and physical weariness that she had passed through kept Dexie confined to her room for two days, but on the morning of her third day in Boston she stepped out the church-door a willing, happy bride.
"Really, I can hardly believe that I have been turned into a married woman since I entered the church," she said softly, as Guy seated her in the carriage. "Does it seem real to you, Guy?"
"Well, hardly, dearest; but I am going to prove the reality of it, and use the authority just granted to me, by insisting that you put aside the thoughts that have made your face so sad. Let us think of the new, happy lifebefore us, and forget the trials we have passed through. We are going to be very happy together, my little wife."
"Yes, I am sure of that. I believe our quiet and unconventional wedding will bring us quite as much happiness as if we had been married with all the fuss that generally attends affairs of this kind."
(They were driving back to Mrs. Graham's, where a few friends had been invited to meet them before they left for a short trip.)
"Yes, indeed," was the reply; "and I think we will enjoy it in a greater degree than if we were surrounded by a crowd of distracting friends, though I believe it is usually considered the one time in a person's life when friends are most appreciated. Why it should be so I cannot see, if all love is like ours. I have obtained my heart's desire at last. This happy day has been long delayed, but is none the less dear for the waiting, and you can never say again that you feel 'alone' in the world."
Dexie gave him a grateful look, as there was no time for words before the carriage stopped at Mrs. Graham's hospitable doorway, where smiling faces awaited them. Kisses and congratulations were not wanting, and the few friends who had accompanied them to church followed them into the house. A few hours later the happy married pair left for New York, where they spent a pleasant season viewing the sights of the metropolis.
On returning to Boston, Guy was offered a position in a large establishment, the headquarters of the firm, doing business in Lennoxville, in which he was previously engaged. This arrangement proved agreeable to all parties, and made it unnecessary for Dexie to return to the scene of her former trials.
Dexie soon found herself mistress of a charming little house, situated in one of Boston's beautiful suburbs, where her windows looked out on a lovely prospect. Here the time flew by so rapidly in caring for her dainty rooms and blossoming borders that her thoughts seldom dwelt on the unhappy weeks which preceded her marriage.
It was a delightful surprise when the dear old piano came with the rest of her belongings from home, but thegrateful letter of thanks which Mrs. Sherwood received was tossed aside without a word, though the letter had not failed to touch the mother's heart.
The piano had been a silent rebuke, and Mrs. Sherwood had been pleased to remove it out of her sight, wishing in her heart that the memories which troubled her could be as easily banished.
But no other piano could have been half so dear to the heart of Dexie, and when she sat down before her beloved instrument the first chords she struck brought happy tears. It was like the greeting of a dear friend long absent. Little wonder her fingers lingered lovingly over the keys as piece followed piece.
"Dexie," said Guy, coming over to her side and leaning one arm on the piano, "do you remember playing for your father and me one evening and refusing us a certain piece? I have often wondered at the reason of that refusal. May I ask if you will play it for me now, darling?"
Dexie dropped her hands into her lap and lifted a flushed face to her husband's gaze.
"Dear Guy, I wish you had not asked me, for I do not think I can."
"What! not for me!" said he, laughing. "Not for your own husband! Come now, Dexie, have I found a cause to be jealous already?"
Dexie's arms were around his neck in a moment.
"Do not say such words, dearest, not even in jest; you do not know how it hurts me. Do you think I would have refused to play that piece for papa for a slight reason, Guy?"
"No, but tell me the reason, wifie. Come, no secrets from your hubby, mind," looking into her eyes with a teasing glance. "You know you told me you only played it when you were sentimentally inclined, and you must only be 'sentimentally inclined' in my direction now, so what is the secret?" kissing the lips so temptingly near.
"You are welcome to the secret, dearest, if I can put it into words, but not to the music, I fear, unless you will stand where I shall not see that you are watching me. There are some things hard to explain, and the effect of that piece ofmusic upon me is one of them. Had I played it for papa, it would have grieved instead of pleased him, for it generally makes me cry; though why it has such power over me I do not quite understand. I have only played it before one person, and he understood it; so I did not mind."
"Now you have made me more curious than ever, little wife. You have played it for one person, and that person a gentleman, and yet you cannot play it for me. Now, Dexie, how could you break my heart by such a confession!" said he, laughing.
"It was only Lancy Gurney, so don't be foolish," leaning her head confidingly on his shoulder.
"OnlyLancy Gurney! Worse and worse!" laughing gaily, as he held up her face to meet his gaze. "Don't tell me you are 'sentimentally inclined' inhisdirection yet, or I shall do something desperate."
"How can I tell you about it, if you laugh? I am afraid you will not understand it, if you look at it seriously!"
"Well, try me, anyway," and he drew her on to his knee.
"I fear it needs a musician's heart to understand it. I do not mean that the piece is so very difficult, but it has such strange, peculiar chords, which sound so exquisitely sweet, that it makes the tears come, no matter how hard I try to repress them. It affected Lancy the same way, so I did not mind playing it before him, but you see I could not give any reasonable explanation for my tears had I played it for you at papa's request."
"Say no more, little wife. I'll not tease you about it again; but let me confess a little sin. I listened to you one night through the open window when you were playing that piece, and I saw you in tears, too, but I did not rightly guess the cause of them."
"But I have not told you all yet! What will you say when I tell you that I gave Lancy Gurney one promise which I have not been able to break! Possibly, Lancy and Iwere'sentimentally inclined' when he exacted it of me, but we agreed not to play that piece for other people, and I doubt if he finds that promise any easier to break than I do,for he would not care to let others see his emotion. I have often wondered what was in the heart of the composer, for it touches my heart like no other piece of music has power to do. I fear I have not made it very plain to you, dear, but I wish you understood it as Lancy did."
"Little wife, I believe you care for him yet," lifting her face and kissing her lips.
"Yes, of course I do, but not as I care for you. It is only the musical corner of my heart that he has touched, for apart from music I never give him a thought. My love for you is different; it seems to fill my life."
"You shall not find me exacting, dearest. Lancy is quite welcome to that musical corner, while I have such a heart full of love for my own. I would not have spoken about that music had I known what it was to you. I will remember after this," he added, smiling, "that it is 'sacred to the memory of—Lancy Gurney,' and I am quite willing to have it so," and he drew her close to his side.
"It is kind of you, dear, to respect this, my one bit of private property. I could never tell you what that music has been to me, for though it brings tears to my eyes it has the power to comfort. It seems to soothe and sympathize with me in my little troubles, and during that unhappy time after papa died I do not know what I should have done without the piano to talk to; it seemed the only bit of comfort left to me."
Guy raised the drooping head, and gazing tenderly into her tear-filled eyes said, gently:
"Dearest love! I do not believe that I half know you yet! There seem depths in your nature that I have never reached, and thoughts in your heart that I have never shared; they are so far above me. Trust me as far as you will, darling, and do not think that I wish you to break a promise that seems more sacred than sentimental," and he drew her to his heart again.
A few days later Guy brought home a thick letter to Dexie bearing the postmark of Halifax, and as Dexie read it a troubled look spread over her face, but she said nothing until the lamp had been lit and the curtains drawn; then she drew close to her husband's side, saying:
"Elsie has sent me very unpleasant news, dear."
"Then I wish she had not written; I do not like to see my little wife look sad over anything. May I know what it is, dear? but do not tell me if you had rather not, Dexie," and he drew her down to his knee.
"I do not think Elsie knew that her news would trouble me, for she seldom sees beneath the surface of things. My marriage has given her mother a great deal of trouble, and as she is the dearest little woman that I ever knew, I feel very sorry."
"For your marriage or the 'little woman'?"
"What a tease you are!" joining in his laugh. "But there is a ludicrous side to Elsie's story, too, though it is the unpleasant part of it that strikes me first. Do you remember the threat that Hugh McNeil made when we told him we were going to be married? Well, he has carried it out, and has married Nina Gordon, my double, that I told you about. Oh, it is a shame! a cruel shame! What a life she will lead with that passionate man, with no love between them to soften his feelings! Hugh could never listen to her patiently five minutes at a time; that is why he said he wished she was dumb! Oh, Guy! I feel so grieved. She is so sensitive at heart, for all her silliness, while Hugh is hasty and hot-tempered. How cruel of him to spoil her life, if he only married her for the chance resemblance to me, and it would be just like Hugh to tell her of it in one of his outbursts of temper. It has made me feel so unhappy that I could not finish my letter; I feel as if I were to blame in some way."
"Do not feel so troubled about it, my little wife; perhaps she will so improve under Hugh's tuition that she will be glad that her chance likeness was the means of making her his wife. I have often wondered, Dexie, how you refused him yourself. He seemed so persistent it is a wonder that he did not take you from me," drawing her closer to his side. "He seemed to have every quality that women most admire in a man."
"Well, I did admire him—at a distance—alongdistance, you know," she laughingly answered, "but directlywe were near enough to talk to each other, we were sure to disagree. What a charming married couple we would have made!" and both laughed at the mental picture. "Poor Nina! she has not the spirit to stand the first unkind word. I do hope Hugh will not be rough with her."
"I have a better opinion of Hugh McNeil than to think he will be rough with his own wife. From what I saw of him I rather admired him, and I hope he will be happy in his married life."
"I hope so, too, but—I fear for Nina. Let me read Elsie's letter to you, and you will understand the situation, for she is such an innocent little kitten that she has disclosed more than she is aware of":
"I cannot call you by your new name yet, but I hope you will not mind, for you will always be just 'Dexie' to me. I know that I ought to begin my letter with best wishes and congratulations, but I cannot do it honestly, so it would not be honor bright. Your marriage has made such a disturbance here that I do not know what to think, only that I am sure you are not to blame for it; so I wish you to know the story, even though Cora often says, 'I hope Dexie will never hear about this.'
"When I received the papers you sent me containing the announcement of your marriage, I, very naturally, read it out for the benefit of the rest in the room, never thinking I was doing anything out of the way; but that horrid Hugh McNeil was present, and before I had quite finished reading it he jumped to his feet and glared at me till I screamed with fright. Then he snatched the paper from me, and tore it in a thousand pieces, and stamped and stormed about the room till I felt sure he was crazy, then I ran from the room in terror. Then, as if that were not enough, Cora followed me out and said she had a good mind to box my ears for reading it out before Hugh, and yet I am quite sure that she likes you as much as ever. Well, we had an awful time with Hugh that night. He attempted to shoot himself, and mother cried and father scolded, and Lancy had to come and watch him till daylight. We were getting over our scare, and I was beginning to think itwas a 'temporary fit of insanity,' as Cora said, when we were startled by another fit that is anything but 'temporary' this time, for Hugh asked papa to rent him the other half of the house where you lived, stating that he was going to be married immediately! Of course we wanted to know the name of the lady, and you can imagine our surprise and dismay when he said it was Nina Gordon. We all felt badly about it, for no one can imagine for a minute that he cares for her. As soon as he had rented the house he started off to Montreal, taking Mrs. Gordon and her daughter with him, and he returned about a fortnight ago, bringing Nina as his wife. Mrs. Gordon is to live in Montreal, and however Nina will manage without her mother at her elbow, is what puzzles everybody.
"I did not see Mrs. McNeil till a few days ago, for I was huffy at Hugh and would not be friendly with his wife; but when I did call I got such a surprise that for a few minutes I stood still in astonishment, for, if you will believe me, Dexie, they have got the house fixed up just as it used to look when you lived there—the same pattern of carpets and curtains, the pictures on the wall seem to be the very same, even to 'George Washington' that you used to make fun of. A piano occupies the same spot, and in the midst of it all there sat Nina with one of your pretty dresses on. Well, I suppose, the dresswasher own, but I cannot understand how she happened to get it made so much like yours. Of course I made remarks, how could I help it when everything was so much like old times! but, in the most unexpected moment, in came Hugh, and the way he went on at me was something fearful! I am sure I never hinted that he had not a right to furnish his house to suit himself, but when I went home he followed me and had a long talk to mother about me. Nasty thing, that he is! and now I am forbidden to mention to anyone the astonishing resemblances that I see next door. They have sent me to my room for an hour because Ilookedsurprised at a remarkable thing, so I thought I would sit down and tell you how badly I am treated, for I am snubbed at every turn, and no one likes to be continually snubbed.
"We like Lancy's wife very much, though she is differentfrom what we expected. It is quite plain that she is very much in love with Lancy, so he ought to be pleased. I suppose it will not be 'the correct thing,' as Nina says, if I tell you why we felt so disappointed over his marriage, but we all expected his wife would be the dear girl we used to know and love. I often think that Lancy misses her, for his wife is not a bit musical; but everything is contrary here. There! I am called, and my hour is not yet up, so that's odd, too."
"That is only the first part of the letter, but it contains news enough for a dozen," said Dexie, as she laid the closely-written sheets on the table before her. "I am sure you see now what a trouble my marriage has been to dear Mrs. Gurney."
"Yet we imagined it was a very quiet affair, eh, Dexie?" regarding her with an amused smile: "However, do not take it so seriously, darling. Things have, no doubt, quieted down by now, and everyone will not see Hugh's wife and home with Elsie's eyes."
"But I have not finished the letter yet; wait till you hear the rest."
"There is a postscript, I suppose, and like every other woman's letter, it needs to be read first," was the smiling reply. "Well, let us hear the conclusion of the matter."
Taking up the remaining pages, Dexie read:
"I was called downstairs to see Mrs. McNeil, who was in the parlor and had asked to see me especially, and as my eyes rested upon her the word 'Dexie' sprang to my lips. She had on your garnet velvet suit, and looked as well in it as ever you did. I intended to treat her very coolly, for I had not forgiven Hugh, though I have been to church twice since he offended me; but she was so very friendly, and so anxious to make amends for Hugh's behavior, that my coolness melted away. She begged me to try and like her 'for Dexie's sake,' and as Hugh had sent regrets for his hasty words and wished me to run in as freely as I did in the old times, I feel as if I can repeat the responses in church this evening without feelingso terribly wicked over it. I fancy, from what Nina says, that Hugh is often quite stern and cold in his way of speaking to her, and she admitted that he has already made her cry. I feel very sorry for her, for I did not know when I began this letter why Hugh was so put out at your marriage, but I do now, and I think that since you would not have Lancy it is a good thing that you are safely married; but take care that Hugh does not run away with you some day. He is quite equal to it yet."
"There is no danger of that," said Guy, referring to the concluding passage. "I can read another story between the lines of Elsie's letter, and I think, dear, that Hugh's wife will not blame you if her marriage should not prove a happy one."
"I hope you are right, Guy; but how could I bear it if I thought you married me just because I resembled someone that you knew and loved, but could not marry," and she put her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.
"But you know that my heart has been yours since I first saw you, so why need you borrow trouble, my little wife? There! lie still in my arms and rest content," drawing her close to his breast with a tenderness that gave a fresh assurance of his love.
"Do you know, Dexie, dear," he added presently, "something in that letter tells me that Hugh explained everything to Nina before he married her, and she could have refused him if she objected to the conditions. Hugh's money would overbalance many difficulties, and I have no doubt that Mrs. Gordon urged her daughter to accept him, with a full knowledge of his reasons for wishing to marry her. I feel sure that Nina is willing and anxious to please Hugh, and he may yet find much happiness in the society of your double. Few men would care to do such a thing, I admit, but if he finds any solace in his disappointment in surrounding himself with things that are dear to his memory and in making his wife a second Dexie, it is well."