When they met around the dinner-table Lancy was strangely silent, though his eyes shone with suppressed feeling, and Dexie began to hope that the subject of the concert would not be broached; but her hopes were rudely shattered as Mr. Gurney turned his smiling face and said:
"So you have honored us with your company to-day, Miss Dexie. Are you aware, wife, that our young neighbor has found a place in the hearts of the public, though her identity is hidden as yet under the sweet sounding title of 'American Warbler?' Every one is asking, 'Who is it?'"
Some commonplace remark from Mrs. Gurney, followed by a warning look, caused the subject to be suddenly changed, and in the conversation that followed, the angry flush faded from Dexie's cheeks, the firm shut mouth relaxed; but the workings of her mind were not quite hidden from the motherly eyes that watched her so closely.
Dexie was fully determined not to go to the concert, yet she would not have cared to confess it to those around her, knowing how shocked they would be at such a resolution. Somehow the matter looked different while she was among them as one of the family. She was sure that the high sense of honor that prevailed among the Gurneys would be sufficient to make any of them fulfil a promise once made, even at a great sacrifice to themselves.
But she would not. No! not if they despised her for it! She would not put up with that impudent advertisement, and she laid down her knife and fork quite suddenly, and clasped her hands in her lap in that close grasp that always told when her feelings were stirred.
Mrs. Gurney watched the expressive face, and returned Lancy's look with one of sympathy.
"Lancy is going to drive to the Four-Mile House this afternoon, Dexie," said Mrs. Gurney. "Would you like to go with him?"
"Oh, yes, indeed," was the quick reply, delighted to escape further questioning.
"Then he will have the sleigh ready as soon as you are.Be sure and wrap up your mouth and throat. It never do to catch cold, you know."
Dexie lifted her eyes for one brief moment to the smiling face of the little mother. The reference to her throat brought back the troublesome resolution that would not stay resolved, try as she would. She longed to throw herself at her feet and confess the whole hateful story, but she dared not. That resolution would fall to pieces like a house of cards, if once the story were told to Mrs. Gurney. But she hated herself for the deceit she was practising. How would it end?
As Lancy drove round to the front door Cora ran out and whispered:
"Don't speak hastily to her, Lancy. Remember how much depends on the way you put it. But be sure and get her full consent."
"What time am I to bring her home?"
"As early as possible; if she has not consented by four o'clock, bring her home to mother. You know we have to dress and have tea."
"And what about Dexie's fine feathers?"
"Only get her consent to go, and we will make a perfect fairy of her. Grandma's box just came in time."
Just then Dexie appeared, and was quickly tucked under the robes.
"Wish us good luck, or fling a slipper, do, Cora, for we are going to elope!" Dexie laughingly exclaimed.
"Good luck, then, and with all my heart I wish it; but slippers are costly, and mine are new," was the laughing reply.
"What happy fortune takes you out of town this afternoon, Lancy?" said Dexie, a few minutes later. "Make it forty miles, instead of four, if you wish to earn my everlasting gratitude."
"Any other day, Dexie, I would feel like taking you at your word," and a look full of meaning flashed from his eyes, which she understood.
By and by they passed a fence that was covered with posters, and in the most conspicuous place Dexie saw the obnoxious handbills with their great, staring letters.
"Did you see that?" and Dexie flushed angrily, as she pointed at the announcement.
"Why, yes! and everybody is coming to the hall to hear you to-night."
"Are they, indeed!" drawing her head back stiffly. "Then they might save themselves the trouble, for they won't hear me."
"Dexie, you are not in earnest!" and Lancy tried to repress the hot words that rose to his lips. "You surely would not refuse to whistle after giving your word, and the posters all over the city?"
"Why was I not consulted about the announcement, if I am of so much importance? Who was it that dared to use my name in such a manner? If you know, you can go and tell them that I resent the insult, and will not appear before an audience under such a nickname!"
"Some people would think the title very complimentary, Dexie."
"Those who do can earn the title and enjoy the compliment, then, for it won't be me," was the firm and angry reply.
"Dexie, I can't think you mean all your words imply. If you knew how highly Mr. Ross speaks of your whistling, you would know that he would be the last one to offend you. Indeed, he is so assured that your performance will be the chief part of the concert that he gave it the special mention that has offended you, and he has gone to the expense of fitting up the hall away beyond anything ever seen in Halifax. He is so lifted up you would think he was walking on air."
"He will find solid ground under his feet about eight o'clock this evening, I fancy! for he will find that his 'warbler' has flown to parts unknown."
"Is it possible, Dexie, that you have it in your heart to so disappoint the members of the club, and the public as well? As for the name he has given you, what matters it? I have been called 'The Dandy' for years, but I have as much respect from my friends as if the term were complimentary. Dexie, I can't think you intend to go back on your word."
"Dexie felt the reproach, but would not relent.
"Mr. Ross had no right to announce my part of the performance at all; it was only as a favor I consented to whistle. If I am his 'drawing-card,' it was only fair to consult me about publishing the fact. I feel positive that, after such an announcement, I will be hissed off the stage before I utter a dozen notes. Who ever heard of a girl whistling in public before? It is considered vulgar enough if she is caught at it in private! I cannot face them, Lancy; I truly cannot."
"If it is your reception you are afraid of, Dexie, then set your mind at rest. Even the rougher element would as soon think of hissing a canary."
"But you forget, Lancy, that to be the first to appear in a part so unusual is of itself a risky thing. Had it not been announced I would not mind it so much, as it would be unexpected by the audience, and the very audacity of it would have won to my side the rougher element. As it is, the audience will expect something beyond my power to give them."
"Looking at it in that way, I admit that the announcement was a mistake, Dexie, since it has made you apprehensive of your power to charm; but no one else doubts it, dear, and I feel sure that my Dexie will not put her friends in the embarrassing position that would arise if she purposely stayed away from the concert to-night. I grant that the announcement was a mistake, as you look at it, and that it was very thoughtless of those who got it up to send it to press without submitting it to your inspection; but having done so, and sold hundreds of tickets on the strength of the announcement, common honesty should make you fulfil your part. If your absence only affected the members of the club, it would not matter so much, but hundreds of outsiders would blame the club for obtaining money under false pretences; so you see, Dexie, you really cannot stay home. Do be reasonable, darling."
A deep blush tinged Dexie's cheeks, brought there by something else than the frosty air, and for a few minutes there was silence between them.
Meanwhile, Mr. Sherwood had started out for a walk inorder to quiet the anxiety that filled his mind, and meeting Mr. Ross down by the Grand Parade he astonished the man by telling him of Dexie's determination.
"But, Mr. Sherwood, shemustcome," he cried aghast. "Her performance has been announced and is the talk of the city."
"Can't help it, Mr. Ross. I am extremely sorry, but it was that very announcement that has caused the trouble. She says you have insulted her, and she has cried and scolded ever since she set eyes on it."
"Yet I expected the reverse. What's to be done?"
The question was as helpless as the man's face was hopeless.
"Well, I can't say. I can use my authority and insist on her going to the hall, but you know the old saying, 'You can drive a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.' It was only this morning that she came across a handbill, and she flew home in such a temper that it put the whole house in an uproar. I can truly say it has quite upset me, for I was anxious to have her do her best to-night."
"But if I go and apologize, and assure her of my unwillingness to cause her a moment's annoyance, surely I might make amends for my unintentional mistake. I will do anything, everything, Mr. Sherwood, that you can suggest."
"Believe me, Mr. Ross, everything possible has been already done to make her see that you had no intention of 'insulting' her, and we have had to pass her over to our next-door neighbors. If they fail, you can try your persuasive powers. She is out driving with young Gurney just now, and we are simply living on our hopes."
"I trust he will succeed. I would hardly dare to face the people to-night without her. Come and see how well the hall looks while we await her return; then I must see her and explain."
"Better not, Mr. Ross, unless you have some other excuse for calling. If young Gurney gets her to change her mind, you had better make your peace with her after the concert is over, instead of risking it beforehand."
"Very true; but I might call with a bouquet for both of your daughters, and I need not refer to the matter if her consent has been already secured."
"Such an errand would seem natural and should do much towards earning forgiveness," was the smiling reply.
A revolution was going on in Dexie's mind as the sleigh flew over the level road, and Lancy watched the varying expressions, for he had learned to read her face like an open book. Checking the speed of his horse, he turned to her and asked if she felt the least cold.
"Not at all, Lancy; the air is just frosty enough to make it enjoyable."
"The roads are somewhat better than they were last winter when I took you out in the storm. Will you ever forget it, Dexie?"
"I am never allowed to, it seems; but I wish I could drop that twenty-four hours out of my memory,"—annoyed that Lancy referred to the time that was associated with his declaration of love. "I wish you would forget that unfortunate drive and all connected with it. It is no pleasure to remember how near we came to freezing to death," she added.
"Well, Dexie, if you will only look at that side of it, why not repay me for the trouble I took for you that night, and do me a favor in return?"
"If any favor I can do will forever relieve me of any obligation I may be under, you have only to name it," said she coolly, "providing the favor is within reason, though."
"No, I'll not ask it, nor put it that way; not for all the concerts that will ever be held!" he hotly answered. "But, Dexie," and his voice grew tender again, "if the same motive would move you to grant me this favor that impelled me to save you that night, you would make me very happy."
"And this favor, Lancy?"
"Remove the anxiety you have caused us all, and overlook what has vexed you, and come with me to the concert. You know I can't go without you, and our absence will spoil it. My wilful Dexie, don't you think you were rather hasty in your judgment this morning?"
"My judgment don't amount to much when once my temper is up, as you know very well, Lancy; but I'll acknowledge that I do feel rather ashamed of myself, for making such a fuss, though I still think it was a shabby trick to advertise me that way."
"So it was, Dexie; but will you make one shabby trick the excuse for a second? You will take back your refusal, my Dexie?"
"Well, Lancy, perhaps I would, if it were not too late; but it is too late to repent now, for my dress isn't ready, and there are endless other matters to see to that would have kept me busy the whole day, so my repentance will do no good. In fact I haven't the faintest idea what I did with the purchases I made this morning, unless I flung them into the street as I rushed along. What a fright I must have looked! But I don't believe I met a soul that knew me; that's one comfort, anyway."
"Then you would whistle to-night if only your dress were ready?"
"Well, I hate awfully to say it, Lancy, but I do believe I would, for I did not think that my absence would spoil your part of the performance when I spoke so decidedly."
"Then we will consider the matter settled, for your dress will be ready when it is time to put it on," and a look of relief spread over his face. "Mother said she would see about it if you would only go."
"Oh, dear! Does your mother know how silly I have been? Who could have told her?"
"Never mind, Dexie. She knows you won't come back as naughty as you went out. She felt sure of that."
"Lancelot Gurney! Did you take me out on purpose—on purpose to make me change my mind? Well, well! how eagerly I ran into the trap that was set to catch me," and a smothered laugh rang out on the frosty air.
"All's well that ends well, you know. Your father was in despair when your Aunt Jennie could not manage you, so he turned you over to us. Since I have proved myself so capable, that ought to speak well for me in the future, eh, Dexie?" and he smiled mischievously into her eyes. "But I'm not quite sure of you yet, Dexie. Give me your word that you will whistle to-night—honor bright, mind."
"Yes,honor bright, Lancy. I'll whistle, or try to, if they don't hiss me when I begin. Now, turn back, and let us get home as quickly as possible; there will be a lot of humble pie waiting for me. I may as well eat it and have it done with. I feel worse to meet your mother than all the rest."
"You forget that I have an errand at the Four-Mile House. That will give us a chance to get warmed, and then for a wild drive home."
When they arrived at the hotel they were glad to find the parlor vacant, for they could monopolize the fire that burned so brightly in the grate, besides enjoying the liberty of free speech.
"You may as well lay aside your wraps, Dexie, as we will not start for home for half an hour," said Lancy, as he returned from an interview with the landlord.
When the sleigh was again brought to the door, there was a triumphant look in Lancy's face that contrasted well with the rosy cheeks of his companion.
"We will have the wind in our faces going home, Dexie, so be sure and wrap up your mouth and throat. It will never do to spoil your whistle after all. I tell you what, Dexie," he added, as he helped her adjust the fleecy scarf, "I feel myself quite a diplomatist, and I shall claim remuneration for this afternoon's work. Do you know what will square the bill?"
"Possibly I may guess your terms, sir, but I shall claim the usual three months' credit," and a saucy face was lifted to his.
"Not three hours shall I wait," he laughingly replied, as he followed the figure that passed so swiftly from his arms. "I have a good notion to claim 'cash on delivery,'" helping her into the sleigh.
"I fancy you would not find it easy to enforce your claim, sir."
"Don't be too sure of that, my Dexie. I have had too hard an afternoon's work to do it for nothing, and 'kiss number two' would settle the account."
There was no chance for further conversation, for Lancy needed to give his attention to the spirited animal beforehim. It was generally a "wild drive" when Bob wore the harness, unless he were kept well in check, and to those who hastily took the side of the road as the sleigh flew by, it did indeed look like a "wild drive," for the pace never slacked until the house was reached.
There were many anxious eyes on the lookout for their arrival, as Dexie noted with shame, but she determined to face the matter boldly, and if possible make some amends for the trouble and anxiety she had caused.
The front door of both houses opened simultaneously as the sleigh drove up, Mr. Sherwood appearing at one and Cora at the other, and a hundred questions could not have asked more than the one word which fell from the lips of both—
"Well?"
Dexie sprang out on the sidewalk, and with a wave of her hand in Lancy's direction, answered the question in dramatic tones:
"See! the conquering hero comes!"
That was enough; they all understood her, and Elsie, who was standing on the doorstep, flew into the house where the busy needles were flying, shouting as she ran:
"Yes! she is going! Lancy has managed her! She is all right again!"
"There, save that little comedy till by and by, and come in here," said Mr. Sherwood, smiling, in spite of himself at the way Dexie had announced her surrender.
"Come into our house as soon as you can, Dexie," Cora called after her retreating figure. "We want you for something."
What a feeling of relief her arrival caused! They had scarcely realized how great was the tension until their anxiety was removed. But all seemed to breathe more freely, and the preparations for the concert went briskly on.
Dexie threw off her wraps in the hall, and followed her father into the sitting-room, where Aunt Jennie sat waiting.
"You are back, my dear," was the aunt's quiet greeting.
"Yes, auntie, and ready to eat all the humble pie you have prepared for me."
"I have prepared none, my dear, but I am pleased to see that you are ready and willing to eat some. Your father has passed a miserable time waiting for your appearance."
"Poor papa!" and Dexie threw her arms around his neck. "How horrid I have been, to be sure. Now, lay on the stripes easy, and I'll promise not to do so any more," and she playfully held out her hand.
"You had better not, you little tyrant," drawing her to him. "I believe my hair has turned grey with the anxiety you have caused me."
"Oh, so it has! here is one hair quite grey; yes, actually two of them! I'll show you," and a couple of hairs were withdrawn with a jerk.
"Stop! you torment," catching her by both arms. "Isn't it enough that my hair has turned grey? Must you make me bald as well? I thought Lancy was going to sober you down before he brought you back. I'll have to call him in to finish his job."
"No, I'm going to be good, I really am; so say you are not cross with me any more, then I must run off and see about my dress."
"Well, I'll forgive you this time; but if you cut up any more such capers, I'll hand you over to young Gurney for good."
"But I won't be handed over, you dear old papa," giving him a squeeze that almost choked him. "I will not exchange my papa for the best-looking young gentleman you can find in the city. But, papa! do persuade Gussie to leave my shortcomings alone, for the next few hours at least," she added, in a low tone.
"I will see that she does not annoy you. Now, don't you think you had better go and practise awhile?"
"Couldn't think of it, papa mine!" Then, taking her father's face between her two hands, she looked earnestly into his eyes, saying: "Do you think there is theleastdanger of me breaking down to-night? Do you? Confess the truth, sir!" she laughingly demanded.
"Well, no; I don't think there is."
"Neither do I. Trust your naughty tomboy; she isgoing to 'eclipse all her former efforts and cover herself with glory.' But, wait you till I see Mr. Ross," and she shook her head. "I will forgive him forthisnight only, and then—well, never mind! How is mamma? Is she very angry with me?" she added, presently.
"Not so much as might be expected. You must let her see you when you are dressed."
"Oh! Aunt Jennie,didyou see anything of a stray parcel, with some lace and other things inside of it? or have I really tossed it into the street?"
"It is in at Mrs. Gurney's with the rest of your apparel for to-night. I have just finished Gussie's suit, and she is all ready to dress. Gloves and all are waiting upstairs."
"Oh, dear! what shall I do, auntie? I completely forgot the gloves. That abominable handbill turned my brain, I do believe; and I thought I was learning to control my temper! Oh, dear!"
"Don't fret, my dear! The best of us are put out sometimes. But everything has been prepared for you in at Mrs. Gurney's; for Lancy's success rests on your appearance, and they were all anxious on his account as well as your own."
"Well, I suppose I must go in next door and apologize; but I would rather get a switching than see Mrs. Gurney."
Dexie's appearance was heralded by a number of little voices, as she made her way to the sewing-room with heightened color and eyes bright with unshed tears.
"I beg pardon of each one of you, separately and collectively," Dexie began. "I never dreamed that my fit of temper was going to affect both households. You are more than kind, and I have no words to thank you."
"Well, don't do it, then," said Elsie; "save your breath, and run upstairs and see your dress, instead. Come, let me show you the finery."
"Where is your mother? I must see her a moment. How does my nose look now, Elsie?" she added, as they went through the hall.
"It looks as if it ought to be tweaked again, you bad girl! But oh, Dexie! your dress is lovely."
And so thought Dexie herself as she stood by the bedwhereon it lay, and she bitterly reproached herself for the anxiety her waywardness had caused.
Tears were in her eyes as Mrs. Gurney came quietly into the room.
"Dear Mrs. Gurney—" She could say no more, but the eloquent eyes told the story quite as well as if it had been spoken by the quivering lips.
"There, my dear! There! never mind. It was only a mistake, and we all make mistakes sometimes; so don't fret any more. See how nicely we have managed. Do you like it, my dear?"
"So very much that I feel I shall never be able to repay you for the trouble"—her eyes still full of tears.
"Oh, yes, you will, I expect payment this very night," and the firm, cool hand was laid lovingly across Dexie's shoulder. "When I hear that you have overlooked the cause of the trouble, and have sung and whistled your very best, and to Lancy's satisfaction—when I have heard this, I will consider the debt well paid," and she bent over and kissed the wet cheeks. "You had better try on the gloves, dear; then see if we have forgotten any one thing."
The face was soon wreathed in smiles. The many things made ready for her use by her dear friends made her realize how much they cared for her, and her girlish heart beat fast as she thought of the triumph she was determined to win, if only to please them.
"We are going to have an early tea, and then we will begin to dress," said Cora, making her appearance in the room. "You must put yourself into my hands to-night, Dexie, so be passive and obedient. We have all set our hearts on your success, Dexie, dear."
"And I will not disappoint you, I promise. I would be a monster of iniquity if I did not do my best, after making so much extra trouble for everybody to-day."
"Ask Gussie to come in with you for tea, Dexie," said Mrs. Gurney, "and if she will bring in her dress, one can help the other get ready."
"Oh, that will be splendid! But I don't want any tea; we had a nice lunch at the Four-Mile House, and I won't eat anything more till after the concert. So you can leave my share till then," she said with a smile."What new whim possesses you now, Dexie?" asked Elsie.
"It is not a whim. I am going to put forth my best efforts to-night, and I can whistle better if I do not eat."
"What nonsense! did you ever try it?"
"Not purposely, but I know I can."
"That is right, Dexie; use every means to enable you to appear at your best."
Mr. Ross had lingered near the house ever since he had parted from Mr. Sherwood, so anxious was he to hear the decision of his erratic "warbler," and he was much relieved when he saw the sleigh drive up to the door at a much earlier hour than he had dared to hope.
Feeling quite sure that she had reversed her hasty decision, he turned his steps to the nearest conservatory, from which he emerged later on bearing a box which contained what he hoped would prove his "peace-offering."
He was received by Mr. Sherwood, who had observed his approach from the window, and his smiling face told the story before there was time to exchange words thereon.
"Can I see her?" asked Mr. Ross, as he heard of Lancy's success.
"Well, I'm afraid not; she is engaged, I believe. I suppose you wish to hear her rehearse?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm afraid you will have to be content with the promise that she gave to me, that 'she would do her best.' Depend on it, she will not disappoint any of us to-night. I'll answer for that."
"But I should like so much to see her. I would like to apologize for my unintentional mistake. Will you take this bouquet to her with my compliments, and ask if I may see her for a few moments?"
"She is in Mrs. Gurney's at present," said Mr. Sherwood, "but if you will wait here I will step in and see her; but I do not think it will be wise to insist on aninterview. My daughter has a temper of her own, and that announcement has provoked her in a way I never saw equalled, so unless she seems perfectly willing to see you, she should be let alone, until after the concert any way."
Mr. Sherwood was soon in the next hall inquiring for his daughter, and she came down the stairs behind Mrs. Gurney, who also stopped to speak to her next-door neighbor.
"Dexie," said Mr. Sherwood, "Mr. Ross sends his compliments with this bouquet, and wishes to know if you will see him and allow him to explain, or apologize, whichever you choose to call it," and he handed her the fragrant flowers.
Instantly they were flung to the end of the hall, and an angry flush rose in her cheeks as she exclaimed, hotly:
"Tell Mr. Ross that I—"
"Dexie, my dear, your promise," came the quiet words from Mrs. Gurney.
"Oh! do forgive me, this once more, Mrs. Gurney," and Dexie rushed after the ill-used flowers; then, in a changed voice, gave the message:
"Tell Mr. Ross that I appreciate his compliments—oh! highly," and she made a grimace, "also his flowers. They smell nice—what is left of them; but I—oh, papa!—I can't see him. Must I go and hear him talk when the very thought of him makes me angry? Make him go away and leave me. I have promised to do the best I can to-night. What more can he ask?"
"You need not see him unless you choose; I will take him your excuses," and he left the house, and returned to Mr. Ross.
"I have brought her excuses in place of herself, and you must rest content with that, Mr. Ross. I think it will not be best to risk the chance of a second refusal, and but for Mrs. Gurney's interference I would have had to bring it, I fear. Let it pass till some other time and take no notice of any coolness she may show to-night, for that public announcement has cut her deeply."
"I am grieved to hear it, Mr. Sherwood; I will endeavor to atone for it at some future time," and with a few parting words he left the house.Very pretty was the picture that the young girls made, as they fluttered about the rooms helping each other to put the finishing touches to their toilets. Gussie's pink and white complexion looked lovelier than ever when set off with a suit in which pale blue and white lace formed the chief parts. Dexie seemed like a gleam of summer sunshine as she fluttered here and there; her pretty suit had been draped with some gauzy material, that glistened and sparkled as the light fell through its folds. The long sleeves had been replaced by short lace ones, trimmed to match the pretty lace bertha, and the long handsome gloves quite completed her costume.
"There, I believe we are all ready at last," said Dexie, as she picked up her neglected flowers. "Let me fasten this cluster of rosebuds in your belt, Cora, as the finishing touch; then I will make aboutonnierefor Lancy's coat."
"Why, Dexie, you are spoiling your bouquet!" and Cora seized her hand. "I cannot rob you of your flowers."
"But you will take them as a gift, Cora, since they are so beautiful. It would be a pity not to use them. I do not intend to carry them, for I want no flowers from Mr. Ross."
"But perhaps Mr. Ross will not be pleased if you give your flowers away," said Gussie, holding her own bouquet daintily to her nose.
"I fancy that his pleasure or displeasure will not affect me," and an angry gleam brightened her eyes. "I merely accepted them as a peace-offering which binds me for this night only. If the flowers help to make someone else entrancing, they will fulfil their mission as well as if I carried them."
"Well, if we are all ready let us go down and show ourselves to our private families before we try to charm the eyes and ears of the public," said Cora. "Your parents are in the parlor, Dexie; go and make your best bow, before you put on your wraps; Gussie, do likewise," and Cora gave a sweeping look over their figures. "Why, Dexie!" she added, "are you not going to wear any jewelry after all?" and she pointed to the case she had opened for Dexie's selection.
"Please, if you don't mind, I would rather not. I feel dressed enough."
"So you are, Dexie," Lancy exclaimed, coming to the door at this moment. "Flashing jewels could not improve you, for you look stunning already. But the horses are waiting in the cold, while you girls are admiring yourselves."
With that they ran down the stairs, all except Dexie, who turned to the dressing-table in search of a pin, and as they left the room Lancy came hastily towards her.
"Oh! is it you, Lancy? I have saved some flowers for you. Shall I pin them on?"
As she did so, Lancy slipped his arm around her, and his admiring eyes confirmed the words that fell from his lips. "You are beautiful to-night, Dexie. You need not fear any audience with those brilliant eyes and cherry lips. You will win all hearts, as you have mine."
Dexie lifted her eyes in surprise, and saw a lover's face very near her own, and before she could retreat he had pressed her to his heart, and kissed her on both cheeks.
"For shame! look!" and she pointed to a mirror where their images were reflected. "What would your mother say to such rudeness, sir?"
"I think she would say, 'Dexie, give Lancy one kiss for his trouble this afternoon.' Don't you think I deserve one, my Dexie?"
But Dexie flew past him and downstairs to the parlor, where her parents and Aunt Jennie were awaiting her.
"How do you like my looks, mamma? Am I not pretty, for once?" she asked.
"If you had behaved as well as you look I would see no cause for complaint," said her mother coolly; "but a 'daw in borrowed feathers' is never a pretty sight."
"But, mamma, I am going to be just as good as I look, for this evening anyway; and I am sure, if my eyesight does not deceive me and my friends do not flatter, that I never looked better, so I'm content," and she left the room to put on her outside garments.
She meekly submitted to the extra wraps that Lancy insisted on placing round her face, and she felt, as she stoodbeside him, that Lancy's tenderness and love added not a little to her daily happiness, even though she had not just the same regard for him as he professed to have for her.
"I think I'll drive down with Hugh," she said teasingly, as they came down the steps to the street, where both sleighs were waiting.
"But I won't let you," said Lancy quickly. "You are mine for this evening. I have earned that much, surely. I can't spare you to anyone else, my Dexie," and he lifted her in beside himself.
They drove quickly to the hall, and were soon in the dressing-room, among the bevy of young ladies who were to take part in the concert. Gussie's heart was pierced with envy as she noticed how much attention was bestowed on her sister, and she heartily wished that Dexie had kept to her refusal of the morning.
Mr. Ross noticed that his peace-offering was not appreciated, and wisely refrained from further remarks, giving the necessary directions in as few words as possible.
Very gay did the Temperance Hall look that evening, with its walls draped with bunting and its stage decorated with palms and other ornamental plants; and it never held a larger audience than now awaited the opening chorus, while the applause that filled the house at its close seemed to make the rafters ring.
The first selections were admirably performed, and were fully enjoyed by those present, but when that part of the programme was reached in which the "American Warbler" made her first appearance, the enthusiasm reached its height, and found vent in round after round of applause.
Lancy made his appearance first, taking his seat at the piano. This intimated that he was not the "Warbler," and the audience looked around in doubt, as if asking each other what next to expect.
A moment later Dexie appeared, and the sea of expectant faces made her tremble. What if she should fail?
The appearance of this bright young girl, bowing before them, caused a moment's hush to fall upon the people. Was she the "warbler," and what was the character of the performance that was rated so highly? After an exquisitelyrendered interlude, Dexie's clear whistle joined the accompaniment, and seemed to hold the listeners spell-bound. At its close a moment of silence followed, but when Lancy rose from the instrument the applause began, and grew louder and more deafening, and Mr. Ross hurried to Dexie's side as she left the stage.
"You must come forward again, Miss Sherwood; that encore is not to be resisted," as the thunderous applause grew in volume.
She took Lancy's arm at last, and stepped forward and bowed her acknowledgement. But that was not enough; nothing but a repetition would satisfy the enthusiastic audience, and when Mr. Ross asked her to give "The Mocking Bird" she felt obliged to consent. Mr. Ross had rightly judged a Halifax audience when he said it would not be content with one performance, and not till the strains from the piano rang through the building, followed by the appearance of Dexie, did the uproar cease.
Lancy played a long interlude to give Dexie time to compose herself, then the first strains of the familiar song floated softly through the hall, and very tender and touching did the words sound as they fell from Lancy's lips, for genuine feeling was behind them. It was like a passage in a love-story, and where is the person that does not enjoy the repetition of some passages, even though they may, at the same time, pronounce them silly and sentimental in the extreme?
Dexie stood near the piano. Her soft, low whistle seemed to come from a distance, then floated nearer and nearer, gaining strength and volume as the song progressed; and when Lancy sang "Listen to the Mocking Bird," the joyous, bewildering notes of the birds she was imitating seemed floating directly overhead, then receded as the next verse was sung, returning fuller and sweeter to accompany the chorus, each verse seeming to grow more tender and beautiful, and, when it ended, the enraptured audience showed their appreciation by applauding with all their strength.
"No; I cannot go out again," Dexie said, as Mr. Ross urged her to appear once more in answer to the call."It is not fair to the rest, for there are other things on the programme much nicer."
"Just this once more," Lancy pleaded, his eyes shining with satisfaction.
"Come on to the stage, at least, Miss Sherwood," said Mr. Ross, "or they will have the house down over our ears. May I announce that you will whistle again at the conclusion of the programme?" and Dexie had to consent. Mr. Ross led her to the front of the stage, and the audience, expecting another repetition, subsided into silence; but it was soon broken when the announcement was made that they should have another selection later on.
Mr. Sherwood found his way to the dressing-rooms, and received Dexie with open arms, while numbers gathered around to congratulate her on her success.
"I am proud of you, Dexie," her father said, as they stepped aside. "I was down among the audience while you were whistling, and on every side I heard words of warmest praise. Your fear of being hissed was a foolish fear, after all. I am sure you are not sorry that you came here to-night."
"No, papa; but I do hope that Mrs. Gurney will be pleased. I whistled for her and Lancy to-night, and if they are satisfied, that is enough. But, listen! That is Gussie's voice; that is the duet between her and Miss Burns. Oh, I do hope they will applaud her heartily!"
But no such feeling had dwelt in Gussie's heart when Dexie was before the audience. If she had failed, had completely broken down or been hissed off the stage, as Dexie herself feared, Gussie would have exulted in her failure; yet if Gussie had faltered in the least, none would have felt it so keenly as her twin sister Dexie.
"Did you see Hugh among the audience?" Lancy whispered from behind her chair.
"Yes; how savage he looked! Such a scowl does not improve his handsome face, if he only knew it. I never saw him look more fierce."
"I expect that he did not like to see you leaning on my arm before them all," he whispered. "He is fearfully jealous, Dexie, so do not flirt with him any more when hegoes in to see Gussie," he added, as he stroked his growing moustache.
"I am not likely to flirt with Hugh McNeil or anyone else," she said, with some spirit; "but judging by the looks cast in this direction, I am under suspicion already, so please leave me, Lancy."
The several selections on the programme were performed to everyone's satisfaction, but every time that Dexie appeared, either as a singer or accompanist, she was received with such marked favor that it was plainly to be seen who was the favorite.
"Now, Miss Sherwood," said Mr. Ross, as the last piece ended and cries for "the warbler" arose in the hall, "send them home so well pleased with our entertainment that they will all be eager to attend our next."
"There is to be no repetition this time, Mr. Ross," said Dexie, decidedly. "Let Mr. Gurney play the National Anthem directly the piece is ended."
"Very well. I will direct the members of the club to be ready to step forward the moment your piece is finished, and we will dismiss them with 'God Save the Queen.'"
As Lancy and Dexie made their appearance the clapping of hands arose again, and, under cover of the noise, Dexie whispered a few words to Lancy, who immediately secured another piano stool. Then they both sat down before the instrument and waited for the signal to begin.
A moment later and the outburst of melody that filled the hall seemed to come from a multitude of song-birds, and the peculiar, bird-like whistle never sounded sweeter or clearer as it rang out in answer to Lancy's more powerful notes, their fingers meanwhile flying over the keys in delightful harmony. Dexie forgot the hundreds of eager listeners. She seemed to have partaken of the free, joyous nature of the birds she was so cleverly imitating, and when the last notes had died away the applause that greeted their ears seemed to shake the building.
It was a decided relief when the notes from the piano overruled the uproar. A moment later and the stage was peopled by the members of the club, the notes of theNational Anthem sounded through the hall, and the audience below rose to their feet at this the closing signal.
As the crowd passed out the door, Hugh McNeil made his way to the front; and as he went at once to help Cora Gurney, and gave Gussie the assistance she asked for, Dexie thought nothing of his sudden appearance amongst them until he bent over her and hissed in her ear:
"I could have killed the both of you as you stood there making love to each other before them all, as if you belonged to him already! You shall be mine, not his! I swear it! so take care how you trifle with me!"
Dexie, terrified by his angry looks, hurried away, and Lancy, noticing her white face, asked anxiously:
"What has happened to you, Dexie? You are as white as a ghost."
"Oh! that big Frenchman has frightened me. Didn't you see him talking to me just now?"
"Yes, but I supposed he was congratulating you on your success."
"It is a pity you could not have heard his congratulations, Lancy. I fancy you would not consider them complimentary," and they hurried homeward.
Mrs. Gurney had arranged a little supper for those of the household who attended the concert, and if anyone noticed Hugh's absence, no one dreamed of the cause thereof.
The skill that was required to keep out of Hugh's way during the weeks that followed, might have raised Dexie to an eminent position if it could have been turned into another channel. Such a sharp lookout lest Hugh might find her alone, such a dodging through doors when his strategy had almost succeeded in bringing her face to face—really it was a marvel how skilfully she avoided him. Yet the fact that she did avoid him gave him a false hope, and he thought if he could once lay his heart before her the battle would be his.
Winter changed into spring slowly yet surely, and the almanac declared that summer was nigh long before people were prepared to accept the assurance.
To Elsie Gurney the spring had been particularly trying, and her mother began to feel anxious as day after day found her lying on a couch, listless and weary. The doctor advised change of scene as the best means to recover health and spirits, and Mrs. Gurney decided at last to accept the kind and repeated invitation of a dear friend living in Charlottetown, and send Elsie thither under Lancy's escort. Mrs. Gurney wrote to her friend explaining Elsie's condition, and the kind letter that came in reply caused preparations to be made at once for the visit.
"My guest chambers are all vacant," wrote Mrs. Fremont, "and my girls are delighted with the prospect of having someone new to the place to show around and gossip with. But, with your houseful, surely you can spare more than two of your family. Remember, I have not seen any of you since we came to Charlottetown, so be generous. Launcelot must not think of returning for some weeks, and he must come prepared to see a deal of service, for my girls have already planned drives and picnics that he must lead to success, for Huburt has not yet returned from abroad, and an elder brother is sadly missed in these little pleasure-parties. Elsie shall have the best of care, and I feel safe in promising that when she returns home all trace of her illness will be dispelled."
But Elsie shrank from this visit and begged to be allowed to stay at home. She was naturally shy and reserved, and to go among new faces, and into strange places, and be expected to take part in the pleasures that were being prepared, oh! this was worse than being ill at home, for then her own dear ones would be near her.
But the visit, like the big doses of medicine that the doctor ordered, had to be taken, whether she liked it or not, and the preparations went on, though it grieved her mother to see how Elsie shrank from the visit.
One day when Elsie was crying about her "banishment from home," Dexie Sherwood came into the room, and learning the cause of Elsie's tears she frankly stated her mind as follows:
"Well, if you are not a baby, then I never saw one! The idea of you lying there crying until your eyes are red and swollen because you are going off on a fine cruise! I declare! if I thought I should be treated half so well, I'd fall sick this very day, and you may be sure I would select some complaint that required a change of scene to restore me," and, assuming an expression of extreme woe, she added:
"Your kind friend in Charlottetown didn't say that any sick neighbor might join you, I suppose? for, ah me! I am beginning to feel awfully bad already. Where, oh! where can I go to regain my shattered health?"
Elsie's tears of grief changed to tears of laughter, and she replied,
"Well, I suppose it does look silly for me to be fretting because I have to go away, but I hate to go among strange people. If Cora could come with me I would not mind it at all."
"But Lancy is going with you," said Dexie, "so you cannot come to any great harm. The people over there are quite civilized, I'm told, so they won't likely eat you; not till you get a little more flesh on your bones, anyway."
Mrs. Gurney, who was in the room, lifted her eyes to Dexie's animated face, and said in her gentle, motherly tone,
"Dexie, my dear, why couldn'tyougo with Elsie? I was stupid not to have thought of it before."
"For my health, do you mean, Mother Gurney? But I am afraid I have recovered it already. I have made Elsie laugh, and the unusual sound has cured me like a charm."
"Well, not exactly foryourhealth, my dear, but for Elsie's," she replied, as she looked into the laughing face before her. "When I think of the double benefit your companionship would be to her, I wonder that the thought did not occur to me before."
"Oh! Mrs. Gurney, I feel so ashamed," and Dexie covered her hot cheeks for a moment with her hands. "I never intended to suggest such a thing when I made such a thoughtless remark. Oh! what can you think of me! Indeed I only said it to make Elsie laugh."
"There, there; of course I understood your bit of fun," and Mrs. Gurney patted the blushing girl on her shoulder, "but when a suggestion made in sport brings such a change in Elsie's looks, how much good would result if the jest were turned to earnest."
"But imagine me going to Mrs. Fremont's when she is not aware of my existence! I couldn't pass myself off as Cora, for I am too unlike any of the family. Indeed, I fear my wickedness would soon betray me," her embarrassment giving place to a mischievous air.
"If I write and introduce you, you can feel as sure of as hearty a welcome as if you were one of my family. But we must not make plans till we consult your parents," said Mrs. Gurney, turning to leave the room.
"Oh! Dexie, if you onlywouldcome with me, it would make all the difference in the world," said Elsie. "A weight seems lifted off my heart at the thought."
"Yes, but look at all the nice dresses you are getting made. You would find me a very shabby companion, for I never dare ask mamma for a new dress unless Gussie is in need of one also; but now that papa is home I might manage that difficulty, and I am quite sure of Aunt Jennie's help."
Mrs. Gurney was soon discussing the matter with the parents next door, making much of the great favor it would be to herself if they would spare Dexie to accompany Elsie to Charlottetown. Consent was readily granted, though Mrs. Sherwood could not refrain from expressing a fear that the necessary preparations would be rather troublesome, as she did not feel able to make any extra exertion herself.
Mrs. Sherwood was quite an invalid, or at least she thought she was, which amounted to about the same thing. Necessity did not compel her to bestir herself very much, so she began to think shecouldnot, and she was generally found lying on a sofa with a book as companion.
Dexie's absence from home would be rather a pleasant relief than otherwise, as she had an unpleasant way of finding unfinished work and laying it in a work-basket by her mother's side for completion. Dexie's brisk ways and ceaseless activity were extremely annoying, as it seemed a continual reproach to Mrs. Sherwood, who preferred the easy, languid movements of her twin sister.
No one raised any objections to Mrs. Gurney's plans except Gussie, and her objections were many and loudly expressed.
It was shameful of Dexie to thrust herself into the Gurney family as she was doing. Anyone could see that it was more on Lancy's account than Elsie's that Dexie was so delighted to accompany them. Why didn't she go and live with them at once? She might as well, seeing that so much of her sewing was being prepared in Mrs. Gurney's sewing-room.
This, and pages more, was reiterated daily, till Dexie would snatch up her work and run to her aunt's room, and she was heartily glad when the time came to leave Gussie and her unkind words behind her.
Yet it was not only on Gussie's account that she felt so glad to be off, for, when Hugh McNeil heard of her intended departure, he added his persecutions also. At first, when he learned that Lancy was to accompany Elsie, his heart beat high with hope. Dexie would be free from Lancy's influence, and he hoped much from a few weeks of uninterrupted intercourse. His passion for Dexie had grown as the weeks went by, and when the one obstacle, Lancy, was removed, all would be well. His visits to the Sherwoods were more frequent than ever, and he openly showed his preference for Dexie's society.
But Gussie had no other admirer just then, and she accepted the attentions meant for her sister as if they were her own just due. This was so exasperating to Hugh that, when Dexie turned away from him, he would take his hat and leave abruptly. This strange behavior Gussie set down to everything except the true cause, for she did not dream that Hugh's affections had been transferred to her sister, for Dexie openly snubbed him.
But, when Hugh learned that Dexie was preparing to accompany the others, he was almost beside himself with rage. He refused at first to believe it—the idea was too preposterous! Well it was that the announcement was not made to him before the assembled household, for his face revealed the fierce conflict within, and he had quite as many objections to make as Gussie, though they were not so openly and freely expressed. Chancing to meet Dexie in the hall, after repeated efforts to catch her alone, his bitter disappointment was so touchingly expressed that, for the first time, Dexie felt a sort of pity for the man, though she could not understand the intense feeling that seemed to possess him.
"Promise me five minutes alone! only five minutes!" he begged, as Dexie tried to pass him. "You will surely grant me that small favor before you go! I must speak to you, Dexie, even if you refuse me a private interview."
"I have no right to grant even 'five minutes' interview' to my sister's lover," was the cool reply. "You can have nothing to say to me that might not be said before the whole family."
"Am I your sister's lover? You know better, Dexie! I have been blinded by her pretty face, but my eyesight has returned to me. I want something more than beauty in my future wife," and he tried to catch her hand.
But Dexie was too quick for this movement, and she hotly replied:
"And I hope you may get it! May she be blessed with a temper hot enough to make even a Frenchman tire of dancing to the music of her tongue!" and with this retort she flew past him, and the door slammed behind her.
Hugh stood for a moment and gazed after her; then, turning on his heel, pulled the ends of his long moustache into his mouth as he muttered to himself:
"Not so bad, my little girl! The hot temper is there fast enough, but it won't make me dance, unless it will be for joy at getting the owner of it."
This happened just the day before they started on their journey, and, through the hours of that busy day, Dexie kept wondering what Hugh wished to tell her. Shouldshe see him and be done with it? No; for his earnest looks and half-spoken words told all too plainly the nature of the interview. Dexie never could explain, even to herself, why she disliked Hugh so much; but his very presence seemed to raise up all the opposition there was within her. To a stranger, he would have seemed more attractive than Lancy Gurney. His figure had attained to manly proportions, and his manner had a charm that was quite pleasing. His dark, handsome face and brilliant black eyes seemed to tell of southern birth; and the heavy, upward-curling moustache added much to his attractions. Dexie had looked upon him with favorable eyes when she first came to Halifax. He had formed a striking contrast to Gussie's fair beauty, but the memory of his handsome face was far from pleasant as Dexie thought of the words he had spoken to her in the hall.
Yet Hugh succeeded after all, and the five minutes he asked for thrice repeated themselves before Dexie could escape from his presence.
The back of the house, or ell, which formed the kitchen, was a story less in height than the main building, and its flat roof was often utilized by both families as a drying-ground for small articles of clothing, and Dexie had stepped out of the window that overlooked this roof to bring in some forgotten articles that hung on the line.
It had been very warm all day, and as Dexie stood a minute, enjoying the cool breeze that blew in from the harbor, her figure was distinctly outlined to observers from the rear of the house; but her presence might have escaped notice, had she not been softly whistling some little song.
Hugh had just returned from the depot, where he had taken the luggage which was to accompany the young travellers in the morning, and his heart was full of bitter feelings as he thought of his master's son filling the place he coveted so dearly.
As he passed into the yard, Dexie's soft whistle reached his ears. He was too well acquainted with the sound not to recognize the source of it, and, glancing up, he saw her there in the twilight, the breeze gently lifting her wavy hair and fluttering the ribbons around her neck, as ifendeavoring to attract his attention. One glance was enough, and before Dexie knew he had returned from the depot, she was startled by his appearance beside her.
She turned to enter the house, but Hugh had not gained this opportunity merely to let it slip by, so he boldly stepped before her and shut the window, and his exultant face was a strong contrast to the expression depicted on Dexie's.
They stood thus face to face for several moments, silently regarding each other—Hugh flushed with triumph, his eyes glowing with a feeling of victory; Dexie, her heart beating fast in her anger, white and defiant as she regarded her audacious companion.
It was Dexie who broke the silence. In a tone of the utmost contempt she said, as she waved him aside:
"Stand back out of my way and let me pass," and she moved towards the window.
"Not yet, Dexie, just hear me for a moment. I want to speak to you."
"Not a word, sir, let me pass at once! How dare you keep me here against my will!"
His tone of entreaty changed to command.
"Because it is my will that you shall hear me," and his face grew paler as he spoke. "For once you shall listen to what I have to say. I can be silent no longer."
"Well, if you must unburden your mind, talk to the chimney there; it will care quite as much for what you have to say as I. It is quite in keeping with the estimate I had formed for you, to keep me here a prisoner on the house-top. Stand aside at once and let me enter the house."
"Dexie," he said more firmly, "I am not going to let you pass until I tell you what I came here to say. Is it not enough that I am to lose the sight of your bright face for such long, weary weeks, that I must be refused these few moments—moments that I must perforce steal from you if I am to get them at all? Do I need to tell you what a blank my life will be while you are away; and not only a blank, but a fearful dream of blasted hopes and weary longing? Oh, Dexie, take away some of the bitternessthat your absence will cause, by giving me, at least, the promise that you will not forget me while you are away."
"Not forget you, indeed!" she said in a rising voice. "I may forgive you this insult, but you may be sure that I will do my best to forget you, just as quickly as I can. I am not given to remembering unpleasant things."
"Dexie, do not talk so bitterly; you do not mean it; say you do not, Dexie?" he said, entreatingly. "You are vexed at being kept here against your will; come, then, let us go inside and talk it over quietly," he added, persuasively, and he reached for her hand.
"But Idomean every word of it," and she stepped back out of his reach, "and if you do not wish to hear me express myself more plainly, I'd advise you to open the window at once."
"Hear me a moment, Dexie. I know you are prejudiced against me on account of Gussie; but give me time to prove that I am in earnest when I say that it is you that I love," and her hands were instantly imprisoned in his strong clasp, "and I love you, Dexie, with the intense love that a strong man feels for the one woman who is all the world to him, a love that is not to be compared with the boyish feeling that Lancy Gurney has for you. Give me some hope, Dexie, that sometime in the future, when you have rightly considered the matter, you will look on me with a more kindly feeling in your heart than you are willing to own to to-night."
Dexie freed her hands by a great effort. His words had flowed like a torrent from his lips, and she took a step back from him, as she replied,
"Mr. McNeil, I willneverregard you in the light you are thinking of, so all this talk is worse than folly."
"Have I spoken too late?" he almost hissed.
His eyes seemed to burn as he looked into her face.
"Have you already promised yourself to Lancy? Tell me!"
"I will not!" came the defiant answer. "You have no right to ask such a question, and I will not answer it!"
Her defiant air and scornful words angered him. He had buoyed himself up with the hope that if he once declared his love she would be touched with the declaration, and, if she did refuse him, would do it in a kindly way that would bid him hope for better luck by and by; but to have his love flung back in his teeth, as it were, was more than his passionate nature could bear.
"Oh! so you love him, do you, and spurn me. Tell me, is it so?"
Again she stepped back from him as he was speaking, and was unaware how very near she was to the edge of the roof; but Hugh observed it, and thinking he could force a confession from her lips through fear, if by no other means, he quickly grasped her arm, saying in a voice trembling with passion:
"Do you love him? Tell me, or I'll throw you over!"
Dexie turned her head, and for one awful moment, as she realized her peril, her face blanched to her very lips; but instead of the answer Hugh expected, she raised her eyes to his, and he quailed beneath their terrible glance, as she cried:
"Throw me over then, you coward, for I'll never tell you!"
An instant they stood thus face to face, on the very edge of the roof, when Hugh's better nature asserted itself, and he quickly drew her back to safety, exclaiming hoarsely:
"Forgive me, Dexie, I never meant to do it, indeed I did not; I would not harm a hair of your dear head for a thousand worlds!"
He felt weak and small before the girl whom he had thought to bend to his will, and made no effort now to keep her from entering the house, but stepped to the window beside her and raised it, endeavoring all the while to get a word of forgiveness from her close-shut lips. She never even turned her head in his direction, but entered the house and into her own room, and Hugh was obliged to descend with a more uncomfortable feeling in his breast than he had felt there when he sought Dexie's presence on the roof."Baffled, after all," was his silent comment; "a coward, she called me; yes, it was a cowardly thing to do, and I might have known she would resent it. But how handsome she looked as she defied me on the very edge of the roof! I believe she would not have opened her lips and answered that question, even to save her life, after she had once refused to speak! But I'll win her yet, and she will be doubly dear when conquered at last, my brave Dexie!" and with feelings that were only intensified by this interview, he returned to the yard to prepare the carriage for the drive to the depot next morning.
It was some satisfaction to be able to see that everything possible was done for the comfort of his darling, though it was bitterness itself to think of her going away under the escort of Lancy Gurney.
When he re-entered the house, his unusual pallor was quickly noticed by Mrs. Gurney, and she kindly asked:
"Are you very tired, Hugh?"
Without lifting his eyes, he replied:
"No, not tired, but heart-sick."
"What is it, Hugh? What is the trouble?" she asked, in her kind, motherly tone.
"Do not ask me, please! it is nothing that can be remedied, believe me," and he raised his eyes a moment and met her inquiring gaze.
"Well, my boy, you, like the rest of us, I suppose, have just so much pain and trouble to bear in this world. Do not let it bear too heavily on your young heart; all is for the best in the end, you know," and her hand was laid on his shoulder with a sympathetic pressure, as she passed on.
All for the best! when in all the hasty preparations that are of necessity left till the last few hours before a journey, no one even thought of the fierce heart-struggle that was his, or would have cared about it had they known it! There seemed to be no kind word of remembrance for him, amidst the bustle and confusion that reigned around him. He felt as if he stood apart from those who, up to this time, seemed as near to him as kith and kin.