CHAPTER XXIXMr. SymingtonMabel and Jean were to be bridesmaids at Isobel's wedding. Ridgetown had only one opinion for that proceeding. "It was just like the Leightons."Aunt Katharine was more explicit."It's hardly decent," she said. "Do you want the man to show how many wives he could have had.""To show one he couldn't have, more likely," said Mrs. Leighton shortly. She herself could not reconcile it to her ideas of what should have been. Mr. Leighton was adamant on the question, however. Isobel had set her heart on this marriage and the marriage was to be carried out. She was their guest and their responsibility. It would be scandalous if they did not uphold her as they would have done had there been none of this former acquaintance with Robin. It would seem as though they had attached unnecessary importance to what now was termed "nothing more than a flirtation." It was a pity they could not all like Robin as they ought to, or have been extremely fond of Isobel; but under the circumstances, they at least must all "play the game."Isobel took the information tranquilly. It seemed to her that she might have been allowed to arrange her own bridesmaids, then she recognized where the wisdom of Mr. Leighton asserted itself on her side. There was much less chance of conjecture where she and Mabel showed up in friendly manner together with one another. She had one friend from London as her first bridesmaid, and after this the question of dresses obliterated everything.Jean, it is true, had still a soul for other things. She moaned for her Slavska on every occasion. She rushed to mirrors in agony lest her chin or throat muscles were getting into disrepair, and she talked already of having to renew her lessons."You are just like a cheap motor," said Betty at last, "always having to be done up. Why don't you keep on being a credit to your method like the expensive machines? They don't rattle themselves to bits in a week."Betty was getting a little out of patience with life."I've had a ghastly time of it," she admitted to Mabel. "All the spunk is out of Elma, you know, and what with her being ill and Isobel engaged, I've led a lonely life. And now Jean can't talk of anything but her Slavska. I hate the man."When Jean was not talking about Slavska, she was sending boxes of flowers to the club girls. Reams of thanks in long letters came by the morning posts. There was no doubt of the popularity of Jean."I should never be in deadly fear now of having to get on alone in life," she said. "There's such comfort in girls, you can't think."Mabel had always remained a little more outside that radiantly friendly crowd, yet had quite as admiring a following. Mr. Leighton unendingly congratulated himself for letting them both have the experience. "Though never again," he declared, "never again, will I allow one of you away from home."Then occurred Cuthbert's engagement. In a curious way it comforted Mr. Leighton. He was acquiring another daughter. Adelaide Maud loved that view of it best of all."If Mr. Leighton had been against me, I should have refused you," she explained to Cuthbert."You mean that I should," he corrected her. "Now what I am about to propose----""Are you really going to propose, dear?" asked Adelaide Maud innocently. Cuthbert grinned."You are to be married to me in the autumn," said he.Adelaide Maud cogitated."Well, failing a real proposal, a command of this sort may take its place. I shall endeavour to be ready for you in the autumn.""They are the funniest pair," said Jean; "Helen is so cool and Cuthbert so domineering! And I used to be so stuck on engagements," she sighed.All the girls were in Elma's room, where Isobel tried on some of her finery. Elma lay on the couch at the window. She had had her trip with Mr. and Mrs. Leighton, and had come home with some colour and a good deal more vitality. Yet still there was much to be desired. Dr. Merryweather thundered out advice about the wedding."She is not to be excited," he kept hammering at every one. Elma felt a culprit in this respect. Nothing excited her except the one fact which evidently could not be altered. She had sent an invitation to Mr. Symington which he had not acknowledged in any shape or form. It seemed so ignominious. One could imagine that rather splendid and cultured person saying, "Oh, these young Leightons again! Don't trouble me with their children's weddings," or something to that effect. She grew cold as she thought of what Mabel's disgust would be when she heard of the flag she had held out (what more definite signal to "come on" could any one have given;) and of his utter disregard of that mild overture. She grew more and more troubled about it. So much so that Mrs. Leighton remarked to her husband as each list of acceptances came from home, and no word of Mr. Symington, "I believe that child is moping because he does not answer."Mr. Leighton was all for the righting that time would accomplish. "She may forget this, whatever it is, in a day," said he. He said to Elma, however, "I hear Symington was asked. Shouldn't wonder if he were so far away that he hasn't had the letter."That possibility gladdened her heart immediately. Perhaps after all he had not yet made his slighting remarks about the Leighton children. The Clutterbucks also were abroad, so that there seemed no chance of any of the connection being present.Elma finally came home, and they had reached the Saturday afternoon before the wedding on the following Tuesday. A very finished example of the London girl had appeared as Isobel's first bridesmaid, and everybody was chatting incontinently. Jean ran on with her own views of things, since she usually found these of more interest than anything else."I feel now as though I wouldn't be engaged for a ransom," she said. "I think of all the men we know and how nice they are, but I don't want to be married to them.""I should hope not," said Isobel. "Why should you!""All right, Isobel, I won't poach. But I'd rather give a concert than have a wedding."It was her latest desire to give a concert in the Bechstein or Eolian Hall, when her voice was "ripe." She had even consulted an agent."If only papa would see it," she said, "it would cost £60, but I should get it all back again.""Oh, one of these private concerts," said the London girl."Yes," broke in Mabel. "Where you pay £60 to an agent and he looks after everything including the people with whom you appear. You fill one part of the hall with your friends, and they fill up the rest. Free tickets, you know. Then each portion applauds like mad whatever you do. It all depends on who has most friends who gets the most encores. It is the duty of the rival crowd to remain silent when their own friend isn't performing.""Oh, Mabel," said Jean."It's true," said the London girl. "And if a critic comes you treasure him, oh! you treasure him! There are seats and seats waiting for critics. This one poor man puts it as neatly as he can, Miss So-and-So sang "agreeably," then he rushes off to the most adjacent hall, and does the same for the next aspirant to musical honours.""And you immediately buy a book for press cuttings," quoth Isobel."And only that poor one goes in.""You are the most depressing crowd I ever met," said Jean despairingly."That's not all," said the London girl. "After paying for the other performers, you may happen to find that they have already paid the agent in order to appear with you.""Oh, I believe a lot, but I won't believe that," said Jean."You may just as well," said the London girl, "because it happened to me. And it's very good business for the agent.""Oh dear," cried Jean. "Do be silent about it then. With you in the house, do you think my father would ever allow me to give that concert.""I sincerely hope he won't," said the London girl heartily.Betty sat looking very glum."Why we should all be here discussing Jean's career, when there are far more important things to think about, I can't imagine. Jean, you might stop talking of your own affairs for once and help with Isobel's. Here's another box to be opened."Jean stood pulling at the string."Still," she said obstinately, "if you have a voice and a fine method, and a man behind you like Slavska----""Oh, put her out," wailed Betty.A chorus of "Put her out" ensued. Cuthbert, coming in in the midst of this, without asking for particulars, took Jean in his arms, and carried her off."I think it's perfectly miraculous the strength that comes to engaged people," said Betty simply. "Cuthbert couldn't have moved Jean a few weeks ago."They both returned at that moment, looking warm but satisfied."The pater is growling downstairs that he can't get one of you to play to him nowadays," said Cuthbert. "There are to be no more weddings he says.""Oh, there never is to be no more anything," wailed Betty. "And I'm only half grown up. You've exhausted papa before one of you have done anything.""Well, let Jean go and rehearse her concert," remarked Isobel calmly."I require a good accompanist," said Jean.Elma had been looking out at the window. She heard the gate open, to four minor notes, containing the augmented fourth of the opening to the Berlioz "King of Thule," which they all loved. Somebody had said "Oil that gate," and Mr. Leighton had objected because it reminded him of the "King of Thule." When Elma heard the magic notes, and looked out at the window, she could have dispensed with minor intervals for the rest of her existence.Mr. Symington was coming up the drive.Oh, Love of our Lives, and now this! She could at last recover from typhoid fever."I don't think any of you need go down to papa," said she. "There's an old johnny come to see him."The bell rang at that moment.Cuthbert approached her."I should fancy," said he, "that with all the good training you have had from Miss Grace, you would have known better than to talk of old johnnies. Who's the josser, anyway?""Cuthbert, my darling boy, you are just a little bit vulgar. Cuthbert, I've never been so happy in my life as I am at the present moment.""So long as you don't weep about it, I don't mind," said Cuthbert.Elma got up. "I think I could dance," said she."Do," said Cuthbert, and put his arm round her.To the dismay of the girls, he swung Elma into the midst of the wedding trousseaux. Boxes were snatched up, tissue paper sent flying in all directions. Every girl in the room screamed maledictions on them both. This was quite unlike Elma, to be displaying her own feelings at the risk of anything else in the world. They stopped with a wild whirl."Elma wanted to dance," said Cuthbert coolly, "and as she hasn't had any exercise lately, I thought it would be good for her. Have some more?" he asked her.A demon of delight danced in Elma's eyes."Why, certainly," she said politely.There was no holding them in at all.Elma had her first real lecture, from Mabel of all people."I think it's very inconsiderate of you, Elma--just when we are so busy. You might arrange to stop fooling with Cuthbert when these things are lying about. It isn't fair of you.""Oh, Mabs," said Elma, "you don't know! I've been under the clouds so long--thunder clouds, with everything raining down on me, and hardly any sunshine at all. And just at the present moment I'm on top of the clouds, treading on air; I can't describe it. But even although you are so solemn, and Isobel is so vexed, and Jean is so haughty, and Betty is simply vicious, why, even in spite of that, I'd like another dance with Cuthbert."Her eyes shone. (Oh, what--what was taking place down stairs?)Cuthbert said "Come on," in a wild way. These spirits had been natural with him just lately.But this time five girls intervened."Not if I know it," said Isobel.And "Get you to your Adelaide Maud," cried Betty. So there was no more dancing for Elma just then."However," said she, "for the first time in my life, I think, I'm really looking forward to Tuesday night." They were to have a dance in honour of Isobel's wedding. "I think that whether Dr. Merryweather is alive or dead, I shall dance the whole evening." She began to adopt Jean's manner. "Do you know," she said to her, "I feel so inspired. I think I could go and compose an anthem!" (What were they saying downstairs?)"Oh," said Betty. "She said that just before she took ill, you know. And I lay awake at night thinking she would die. Because I asked you, you know, just in fun, were you going to die because you wanted to write an anthem.""On the contrary," said Elma, "I now want to write an anthem because I'm about to live.""Look here, Elma," said Mabel sedately, "if you don't sit down and keep yourself quiet, I shall get Dr. Merryweather to come.""If he has time," said Isobel drily."Time?" asked Mabel."Yes, before he gets married to Miss Grace."That bomb burst itself to silence in the most complete pause that had fallen on the Leighton family for a long time. They began to collect their scattered senses with difficulty. Elma thought, "Mr. Symington in the drawing-room and Miss Grace going to be married! Am I alive or dead?""Didn't you notice?" said Isobel's calm voice. "Haven't you seen that Dr. Merryweather's heart is with Miss Grace? You could tell that from the colour of his gloves. Lemon yellow ever since Miss Annie died.""Oh, Isobel," said Mabel gravely.Elma remembered her asking, "And Miss Grace, this man, was he----" and Saunders opening the door and announcing, "Dr. Merryweather." Was this something more than a coincidence, and was Isobel right? Surely Miss Grace would have let her know. Then the certainty that Miss Grace would far more easily let an alien like Isobel know, by reason of her own embarrassment, than a friend like Elma through frank and easy confidence, began to convince her. She heard the gate sing its little song of warning again at that moment. Miss Meredith tripped in.Miss Meredith!Elma put her head out at the open window."Oh, Miss Meredith, do come upstairs, we've such a lot to show you."Sarah came safely up. (Oh the relief!) What if she met Mr. Symington, and this new castle of cards came tumbling down to more interference from that quarter. Besides, they were soon going to tea, and Mabel was still unwarned. Elma discreetly hoped that Mabel would not faint. As for herself, her shakiness seemed gone for ever. She was a lion, defending Mabel.Miss Meredith floated about the room. "Perfectly sweet," she said one minute, and "Isn't it a dream?" the next. (What was Mr. Symington saying in the drawing-room?)It came alarmingly near tea-time. Elma made everybody prink up a little. "We are all such frights," she said, "and there's some old johnny with papa in the drawing-room.""I do believe you know who it is," said Betty, "and won't tell us." She was in a suspicious mood with society in general."I do," said Elma simply. "It's Mr. Symington."Mabel did not faint. She was providentially with her back to the others, packing a tulle dress in tissue paper just then, and one has to be very particular with tulle. She was quite collected and calm when she finished. Miss Meredith was the colour of the Liberty green screen behind her. Her energy did not fail her in this crisis however."Why, it's nice Mr. Symington comes back," she said. "Is he coming to the wedding?""He is," said Elma. "He was my 'particular.' I asked Isobel if I might invite him.""Who is he anyway?" asked Isobel, patting her hair gently in front of a mirror.("Oh, Isobel, my friend, if you only knew that," Elma conferred with herself, "you wouldn't perhaps be the centre of attraction to-day.")"He's a man who's great friends with the pater," said Jean unconcernedly. "He goes abroad a lot and writes up things and develops photos and has a place in Wales.""A place in Wales, how nice!" said the London girl. "But it isn't the great Mr. Symington, is it?""Why, yes, I suppose it must be," said Jean."Of course it is," said Miss Meredith, socially active once more. "Mr. Symington is a very famous young man.""Good gracious," said the London girl, "my curling tongs at once, please. These surprises are very demoralizing. Look at my hair."They all made themselves beautiful for "the great Mr. Symington."Mabel turned a pair of wide eyes on Elma. Elma nodded like a little mother, with a wealth of smiles at her lips. (Oh, Mabel, play up!)Cuthbert had found his mother coming out of the drawing-room."Well, you seem in good spirits," said she,"Who is in there?" he asked."Mr. Symington.""Oh, it's he, is it?""Why do you ask?""Oh, for no particular reason," said Cuthbert. "Only Elma saw him coming in and called him an old johnny. I knew something was up.""Elma?" asked Mrs. Leighton anxiously."Yes. And she's in great form about something. Haven't seen her so gay for an age."Mrs. Leighton's eyes dropped. "Poor little girl," she said to herself. She thought it best to proceed upstairs, and break some of the surprise of Mr. Symington's arrival.She found them in a room where boxes were piled in every direction. It was like her that in her present dilemma she should immediately begin to reprove them for their untidy habits."This room is really a disgrace," she said. "Just look at all these boxes! And it's tea-time and not one of you in the drawing-room with your father, the only afternoon he has too! Elma, what have you been doing to make your hair so untidy?""My hair is only a wig, and this is my room," said Elma firmly. "For the last ten minutes I have been trying to get to my own mirror. We are prinking ourselves up for the great Mr. Symington.""Oh," said Mrs. Leighton. "So you know. Well, he only got the invitation a few days ago, when he was buried in Servia or some outlandish place. He came right on.""For my wedding?" asked Isobel in cool surprise.Miss Meredith gazed in a rather frightened manner at every one."No," said Elma. "Not altogether. There were others reasons." She determined to cut all the ground from under the feet of Sarah. "I arranged it with Mr. Symington," she said in an important voice. Then, with the airy manner of the London girl, she patted down the turbulent wig, which had so annoyed Mrs. Leighton. "He is a perfect duck," she said lightly.CHAPTER XXX"Now here there dawneth"The organ in the Ridgetown church pealed in a stately manner the wedding music fromLohengrin. Isobel, the bride, moved with exactitude slowly down the aisle with her three bridesmaids. Mr. Leighton, presumably leading her, was compelled to delay himself several times. Who could have known that the arm lying on his was manipulating matters so conscientiously! It was inimitably done. Isobel'sentouragearranged itself in perfect order, and knowing that everything was properly completed, she raised her eyes to those of Robin just as the last chord sounded. This had been rigorously rehearsed, but nothing could have been better carried out. The ceremony of marriage commenced.There were more dramas played out that day than what Ridgetown called "the drama" of Mabel's acting bridesmaid to Isobel. Ridgetown was delightfully curious in noting that Robin, for instance, looked nervous and disturbed. The darting glances which had so unnerved the Leighton family long ago, dwelt on Isobel only occasionally. Robin would not be at his happiest till the ceremony was over.Whether by accident or design, Miss Grace, who was unable to join the wedding party on account of her mourning, came in quietly to church with Dr. Merryweather. Here was drama enough if one liked to look further as Isobel had done. Then Mr. Symington had been ordered to be an usher. The groomsman, a Mr. Clive, a friend of the Merediths, was, of course, out of the usher part of the business. So Cuthbert and George Maclean and Lance and Mr. Symington were requisitioned. They had to show in the guests and give the cue to the organist, and take the bridesmaids out afterwards. Miss Meredith had been of opinion that they did not require so many ushers. The girls insisted on four at least.Elma was not in the seventh heaven which she had inhabited a few days before. There was something still unravelled about Mr. Symington's attitude.She was not to know, of course, that he had immediately placed himself in Mr. Leighton's hands in regard to Mabel. That much-startled person only thought of another complication--Mabel, when Elma had set her heart on him! In a disturbed manner he had endeavoured to let Mr. Symington know that he might find difficulties in the way. He begged, above all things, that he might not rush matters."Give us time to think a little," he pleaded. "We have had so much of this sort of thing lately."Mr. Symington would have preferred to have had it out then and there. "You understand," he said, "that I left this unsaid before, because I thought, in fact I was led definitely to understand that she was engaged to Meredith, and that my presence here was a trouble to her.""Ah, that's it--perhaps," said Mr. Leighton. "It was not because of Meredith. There may be other reasons."Mr. Symington's hopes went down at a rush.When the girls crowded into the room for tea, his greeting and Mabel's consisted of a mere clasp of the hand on either side with no words spoken at all. But Mabel felt suddenly as though she could face the world. Was it strength he had given her by the mere touch of his hand? She could not raise her eyes to let him or anybody else see what was written there.The deadlock puzzled the triumphant Elma. Miss Grace comforted her a little. "These things always come right--sooner or later."These two good friends had not the firmness to probe that remark further, though Elma was dying to ask about Dr. Merryweather."I'd like to help them," said Elma instead, "but I should feel like the 'tactful woman' that Mr. Maclean was laughing at. He says that when tactful women write novels they are always making people drop handkerchiefs in order to help the heroine, or having a friend outside or something of that sort at the right moment. It made me feel so silly over sending the invitation to Mr. Symington. Especially," continued she sadly, "since he doesn't seem to be making much use of it. It's very enervating to be tactful, especially when your tact doesn't come off."Miss Grace looked at her long and kindly."Don't bury your sympathies in the cause of others too much, dear," she said. "With some of us, with you and me for instance, it might become more of a weakness perhaps than a real virtue."Elma immediately thought, "There is something in what Isobel said after all."Instead of giving voice to it, she said, "I have bothered about Mabs, I know. But then, I haven't any affairs of my own, you see.""Oh, dear child, never be sure, never be too sure about that," said Miss Grace.A delightful feeling stole over Elma. Could it be possible that anything exciting could ever happen to herself. But no--how could it?"I think it's papa always telling us no woman ought to be married until she's twenty-three that de--demoralizes me so," she said. "And lately, since Mabs is nearly that age, he is actually running it on to twenty-five.""Yes, but they never really mean it," said Miss Grace."Well, one thing I intend to see to is that Mr. Symington takes Mabel out of church after the wedding. Sarah wants him. And Sarah is not going to have him.""I think you are quite right there," said Miss Grace.Elma got hold of Mr. Symington herself. "I want you to do me a great favour," she said. "I want you to escort Mabel on Tuesday.""It isn't a favour," he said. He pulled his big shoulders together and looked magnificent. He was browned and tanned with the sun. Only a slight frown between the eyes to be cleared away and then he would be the old Mr. Symington."Well, please do it like this. Ask Mabel if you may.""Now?" asked Mr. Symington."If you like," said Elma.They were on the lawn after dinner, and Mr. Symington in two days had hardly had a glimpse of Mabel, far less any conversation with her.She was talking to Isobel.He walked straight up to her."May I escort you out of church on Tuesday?" he asked.Mabel looked up in a puzzled way, then her eyes lit with shyness and something much more brilliant than had been seen in them for a long time."Yes," she said simply.(Could he know how her heart thumped to that quiet "yes"?)"Thank you."(Oh, after all, after all, could the sun shine after all!)Isobel broke in coldly."I had understood from Robin that Mr. Symington would take Miss Meredith."Mabel turned cold. She could not help it, for the life of her, she could not help it, she turned an appealing glance on Mr. Symington. This he had hardly required, but it helped him to a joyous answer."Oh, no, Miss Leighton. Some mistake. I'm bound to Miss Mabel."Elma strolled up. "It's all because of Cuthbert's insisting on taking Helen. Cuthbert ought to have taken Mabel. Mr. Clive takes the first bridesmaid; Mr. Symington, Mabel; George Maclean, Jean.""Who takes you?" asked Mr. Symington."Oh, I'm not in the procession," said Elma."Yes, you are." Mabel was quite animated now. "The whole family trails out in pairs with somebody or another."George Maclean strolled up."I shall take Elma," he said."No, you won't! You take Jean.""I won't be taken by George Maclean," cried Jean. "He's always horrid to me.""Wire for Slavska," interpolated Betty."Is this my wedding, or whose is it?" asked Isobel.They settled everything once more. The real result lay in Mr. Symington's determination about Mabel.He came to Elma afterwards."Is there anything under the sun you want, which you haven't got?" he asked her. "Because I should like to present it to you here and now."That cleared up things incalculably for the wedding. Elma sitting in front saw only Mabel, and Mabel's face was the colour of a pink rose. Mr. Symington took her out of church after the wedding, next to the first bridesmaid.Aunt Katharine followed them with her lorgnette."They're a fine couple," she said to Elma. "It's a pity Mabel spoiled herself with this Meredith man. Mr. Symington might lead her out in earnest. I always told your mother what it would be."There was no squashing of Aunt Katharine.Mabel had begun to see land after having tossed on what had seemed an endless sea. She had been without any hope at all, but it was necessary to appear throughout as though she had some safe anchor holding her in port. The joy of delivery was almost more than she could bear. She became afraid of looking at Mr. Symington. After the arrival of the guests at the White House, she managed to slip out and disappear upstairs. Her own room had people in it helping to robe Isobel. She stole into the schoolroom. Too late of making up her mind, since Mr. Symington, seeing a trail of pale silken skirts disappear there, tried the only door open to him on that landing. He found Mabel."Oh," said she blankly. "I wanted to get away--away from downstairs for a little."He had some difficulty in replying."So I noticed," he said.They lamely waited. Mabel caught at a window cord and played with it."We ought to go downstairs," she whispered.Why she spoke in a whisper she could not imagine.Mr. Symington came close to her."Mabs," he said, "just for three minutes I mean to call you Mabs. And after that--if you are offended--you can turn me off to the ends of the earth again. You know why I left before."She bent her head a little."You didn't want me to go? You didn't want me to go! Say that much, won't you?"She could not answer."I know what it means if you do," he said. "Oh don't I know what it means? Mabs, I'm going to make you care for me--as I do for you--can you possibly imagine how much I care for you--why won't you speak to me?"Mabel never spoke to him at all.He happened to take her hand just then, and the same confidence which had so strangely come to her a few days ago on his arrival, came to her once more. He took her hand, and time stood still.Somebody outside, a vague time afterwards, called for Mabel. It dawned on them both that they were attending Isobel's wedding."We ought to go downstairs," whispered Mabel.Her conversation was certainly very limited. They both smiled as they noticed this, a comprehensive, understanding, oh! a different smile to any they had ever allowed themselves."We will, when you've just once--Mabs--look up at me. Now--once."Time stood still once more, but it took the last of the frown from between the eyes of Mr. Symington."Now for Isobel's wedding party," cried he.Mr. Leighton was stunned a little with the news. "Only one stipulation," said he. "I want to tell Elma myself."Mabel was terribly disappointed."Oh, papa--of all people--I wanted to tell Elma."He was adamant however, even when Mr. Symington added his requests."You've interfered seriously enough between me and one of my daughters," Mr. Leighton said severely. "Leave me the other."So nothing was mentioned until Mr. Leighton should tell Elma. Mrs. Leighton was nervous about the whole thing, yet in an underhand way very proud of Mabel."I can't see that any of you are at all suited to be the wife of a man like Mr. Symington," she said to Mabel pessimistically. "But your father thinks it is all right." She had had rather a long day with Aunt Katharine.Elma saw that the clouds had lifted where Mabel was concerned, and Mr. Symington was in magnificent spirits. She thought they might have told her something, but she was sent to lie down with no news at all until the dance in the evening. Isobel left regally. There was not much of the usual scrimmage of a wedding-leave-taking about her departure. Her toque and costume were irreproachable. Miss Meredith attended her dutifully, as though she were a bridesmaid herself. But with Robin she had felt too motherly for that. Indeed, some new qualities in Miss Meredith seemed to be coming uppermost.Dancing was in full swing in the evening when Mr. Leighton methodically put on an overcoat and took Elma to sit out in the verandah. "It is to prevent your dancing too much," he told her.Elma had the feeling of being manipulated as she had been when she was ill. What did all this mystery mean? She tucked in readily enough beside her father. The night was warm, with a clear moon, and the lights from the drawing-room and on the balcony shed pretty patches of colour on her white dress and cloak.Mr. Leighton began to talk of Adelaide Maud of all people. She was there, with her sisters. They had at last dropped the armour of etiquette which had prevented more than one from ever appearing at the Leightons."I don't suppose any of you really know what that girl has come through," said Mr. Leighton. "All these years it has gone on. A constant criticism, you know. Mrs. Dudgeon found out long ago about Cuthbert, and what Cuthbert calls 'roasted' her continually. Adelaide Maud remained the fine magnificently true girl she is to-day. That is a difficult matter when one's own family openly despises the people one has set one's heart on. She never gave a sign of giving in either way--did she?""Not a sign," said Elma. "Adelaide Maud is a delicious brick, she always has been. The Story Books have come true at last.""It does not sound like being in battle," said Mr. Leighton, in a pertinacious way. "But a battle of that sort is far more real than many of the fights we back up in a public manner. One relieves the poor, and you girls give concerts for hospitals, but who can give a concert to relieve the like of the trouble that Adelaide Maud has gone through? She never wavered."Elma thought of another fight--should she tell her father?"We talk about Ridgetown being a slow place, but what a drama can be lived through here!" went on Mr. Leighton. "Isobel, for instance, thinks there's nothing in life unless one attends fifty balls a month. Yet she lived her little drama in Ridgetown. And she has learned to be civil to Miss Meredith. There's another fight for you. It cost her several pangs, let me tell you."("What did it all lead to?" thought Elma.)"Oh, there were other fights too, papa, but one I think is over. Have you seen Mabel's face to-night?"Mr. Leighton started.Elma required some sort of confidant, "or I shall explode or something," she explained. She told her father about Mr. Symington."And I've been worrying so because it seemed so sad about Mabel. And she never gave it away, did she? And when you all thought so much of Isobel when she first came, and Mabel was getting dropped all round, she never said a word, did she?""No," said Mr. Leighton, with a long-drawn impatient sort of relief in his voice. "No, but you did. You talked so much about the man all through your illness that your mother thought you were in love with him yourself. Ridiculous nonsense," he said testily. "And here have I been trying to brace you up to hearing that Mabel is engaged to him, and the scoundrel wishes to marry her at once."Dr. Merryweather, who had said that Elma was not to be excited, ought to have been on the spot just then. She sat on her father's knee and hugged him."Oh, papa, papa, how glorious," said she. "Never mind, I shall always stay with you, I shall, I shall.""Oh, will you?" said Mr. Leighton dismally. "Mabel said the same thing not so long ago."Mrs. Leighton and Aunt Katharine came on the balcony, and behind them, Mabel and Mr. Symington."Isn't this a midsummer's night's dream?" sighed Elma, after the congratulations were over. "I shall get up in the morning ever afterwards, and I shall say, 'Now here there dawneth another blue day'--even although it's as black as midnight.""Well, now that we're rid of Mabel," said Aunt Katharine placidly, "when will your turn come along?""Oh, Elma is going to stay with me," said Mr. Leighton."H'm. Well, she always admired Miss Grace," said Aunt Katharine. "There's nothing like being an old maid from the beginning."Elma stirred herself gently, and laughed in the moonlight."Miss Grace is to be married to Dr. Merryweather," she said with a smile. It was her piece of news, reserved till now for a proper audience.Miss Grace had told her anxiously in the course of the afternoon. "Oh," Elma had said, "how nice! Dr. Merryweather is such a duck!""Do you think so?" had asked Miss Grace seriously. "Miss Annie used to think he was a little loud in his manners."Miss Grace would ever be loyal to Miss Annie. Adelaide Maud came out just then with Cuthbert. "How much finer to have been loyal to the like of Cuthbert!" Elma could not help the thought. Ah, well, there were fights and fights, and no doubt Miss Grace had won on her particular battlefield.A new dance commenced indoors, and some came searching for partners."Mr. Leighton," said the voice of George Maclean, "won't you spare Elma for this dance?"They turned round to look at him."Elma wants to stay with me," said Mr. Leighton gravely, putting his arms round her."Hph!" said Aunt Katharine in an undertone. "It's another Miss Grace, sure enough.""Why don't you go and dance?" asked Adelaide Maud of Elma.There were her two ideals, Miss Grace and Adelaide Maud, crossing swords as it were with one another. And there was George Maclean waiting at the window of the drawing-room. A Strauss waltz struck up inside, one which she loved. Ah, well, there were several kinds of fights in the world. She felt in some inscrutable way that it was "weak" to stay with her father.She went in with George Maclean.Mr. Leighton pulled up a chair for his wife, as the others, including even Aunt Katharine, faded from the balcony."I take this as an omen, they are all leaving us," he said in a sad manner.Mrs. Leighton sighed gently. "We did the same ourselves, didn't we, John?"And with a Strauss waltz hammering out its joyous commanding rhythm, a son and daughter engaged, and Elma just deserted, Mr. Leighton replied very dismally indeed, "I suppose so.""Hush," said Mrs. Leighton. "Who knows? This may be another."It was Jean with a University acquaintance of Cuthbert's.He placed her carefully in a chair and bent in a lounging manner over her."You see," said Jean in a high intense voice, "it's the method that does it.""Ha," said Mr. Leighton joyously. "Herr Slavska may yet save me a daughter."
CHAPTER XXIX
Mr. Symington
Mabel and Jean were to be bridesmaids at Isobel's wedding. Ridgetown had only one opinion for that proceeding. "It was just like the Leightons."
Aunt Katharine was more explicit.
"It's hardly decent," she said. "Do you want the man to show how many wives he could have had."
"To show one he couldn't have, more likely," said Mrs. Leighton shortly. She herself could not reconcile it to her ideas of what should have been. Mr. Leighton was adamant on the question, however. Isobel had set her heart on this marriage and the marriage was to be carried out. She was their guest and their responsibility. It would be scandalous if they did not uphold her as they would have done had there been none of this former acquaintance with Robin. It would seem as though they had attached unnecessary importance to what now was termed "nothing more than a flirtation." It was a pity they could not all like Robin as they ought to, or have been extremely fond of Isobel; but under the circumstances, they at least must all "play the game."
Isobel took the information tranquilly. It seemed to her that she might have been allowed to arrange her own bridesmaids, then she recognized where the wisdom of Mr. Leighton asserted itself on her side. There was much less chance of conjecture where she and Mabel showed up in friendly manner together with one another. She had one friend from London as her first bridesmaid, and after this the question of dresses obliterated everything.
Jean, it is true, had still a soul for other things. She moaned for her Slavska on every occasion. She rushed to mirrors in agony lest her chin or throat muscles were getting into disrepair, and she talked already of having to renew her lessons.
"You are just like a cheap motor," said Betty at last, "always having to be done up. Why don't you keep on being a credit to your method like the expensive machines? They don't rattle themselves to bits in a week."
Betty was getting a little out of patience with life.
"I've had a ghastly time of it," she admitted to Mabel. "All the spunk is out of Elma, you know, and what with her being ill and Isobel engaged, I've led a lonely life. And now Jean can't talk of anything but her Slavska. I hate the man."
When Jean was not talking about Slavska, she was sending boxes of flowers to the club girls. Reams of thanks in long letters came by the morning posts. There was no doubt of the popularity of Jean.
"I should never be in deadly fear now of having to get on alone in life," she said. "There's such comfort in girls, you can't think."
Mabel had always remained a little more outside that radiantly friendly crowd, yet had quite as admiring a following. Mr. Leighton unendingly congratulated himself for letting them both have the experience. "Though never again," he declared, "never again, will I allow one of you away from home."
Then occurred Cuthbert's engagement. In a curious way it comforted Mr. Leighton. He was acquiring another daughter. Adelaide Maud loved that view of it best of all.
"If Mr. Leighton had been against me, I should have refused you," she explained to Cuthbert.
"You mean that I should," he corrected her. "Now what I am about to propose----"
"Are you really going to propose, dear?" asked Adelaide Maud innocently. Cuthbert grinned.
"You are to be married to me in the autumn," said he.
Adelaide Maud cogitated.
"Well, failing a real proposal, a command of this sort may take its place. I shall endeavour to be ready for you in the autumn."
"They are the funniest pair," said Jean; "Helen is so cool and Cuthbert so domineering! And I used to be so stuck on engagements," she sighed.
All the girls were in Elma's room, where Isobel tried on some of her finery. Elma lay on the couch at the window. She had had her trip with Mr. and Mrs. Leighton, and had come home with some colour and a good deal more vitality. Yet still there was much to be desired. Dr. Merryweather thundered out advice about the wedding.
"She is not to be excited," he kept hammering at every one. Elma felt a culprit in this respect. Nothing excited her except the one fact which evidently could not be altered. She had sent an invitation to Mr. Symington which he had not acknowledged in any shape or form. It seemed so ignominious. One could imagine that rather splendid and cultured person saying, "Oh, these young Leightons again! Don't trouble me with their children's weddings," or something to that effect. She grew cold as she thought of what Mabel's disgust would be when she heard of the flag she had held out (what more definite signal to "come on" could any one have given;) and of his utter disregard of that mild overture. She grew more and more troubled about it. So much so that Mrs. Leighton remarked to her husband as each list of acceptances came from home, and no word of Mr. Symington, "I believe that child is moping because he does not answer."
Mr. Leighton was all for the righting that time would accomplish. "She may forget this, whatever it is, in a day," said he. He said to Elma, however, "I hear Symington was asked. Shouldn't wonder if he were so far away that he hasn't had the letter."
That possibility gladdened her heart immediately. Perhaps after all he had not yet made his slighting remarks about the Leighton children. The Clutterbucks also were abroad, so that there seemed no chance of any of the connection being present.
Elma finally came home, and they had reached the Saturday afternoon before the wedding on the following Tuesday. A very finished example of the London girl had appeared as Isobel's first bridesmaid, and everybody was chatting incontinently. Jean ran on with her own views of things, since she usually found these of more interest than anything else.
"I feel now as though I wouldn't be engaged for a ransom," she said. "I think of all the men we know and how nice they are, but I don't want to be married to them."
"I should hope not," said Isobel. "Why should you!"
"All right, Isobel, I won't poach. But I'd rather give a concert than have a wedding."
It was her latest desire to give a concert in the Bechstein or Eolian Hall, when her voice was "ripe." She had even consulted an agent.
"If only papa would see it," she said, "it would cost £60, but I should get it all back again."
"Oh, one of these private concerts," said the London girl.
"Yes," broke in Mabel. "Where you pay £60 to an agent and he looks after everything including the people with whom you appear. You fill one part of the hall with your friends, and they fill up the rest. Free tickets, you know. Then each portion applauds like mad whatever you do. It all depends on who has most friends who gets the most encores. It is the duty of the rival crowd to remain silent when their own friend isn't performing."
"Oh, Mabel," said Jean.
"It's true," said the London girl. "And if a critic comes you treasure him, oh! you treasure him! There are seats and seats waiting for critics. This one poor man puts it as neatly as he can, Miss So-and-So sang "agreeably," then he rushes off to the most adjacent hall, and does the same for the next aspirant to musical honours."
"And you immediately buy a book for press cuttings," quoth Isobel.
"And only that poor one goes in."
"You are the most depressing crowd I ever met," said Jean despairingly.
"That's not all," said the London girl. "After paying for the other performers, you may happen to find that they have already paid the agent in order to appear with you."
"Oh, I believe a lot, but I won't believe that," said Jean.
"You may just as well," said the London girl, "because it happened to me. And it's very good business for the agent."
"Oh dear," cried Jean. "Do be silent about it then. With you in the house, do you think my father would ever allow me to give that concert."
"I sincerely hope he won't," said the London girl heartily.
Betty sat looking very glum.
"Why we should all be here discussing Jean's career, when there are far more important things to think about, I can't imagine. Jean, you might stop talking of your own affairs for once and help with Isobel's. Here's another box to be opened."
Jean stood pulling at the string.
"Still," she said obstinately, "if you have a voice and a fine method, and a man behind you like Slavska----"
"Oh, put her out," wailed Betty.
A chorus of "Put her out" ensued. Cuthbert, coming in in the midst of this, without asking for particulars, took Jean in his arms, and carried her off.
"I think it's perfectly miraculous the strength that comes to engaged people," said Betty simply. "Cuthbert couldn't have moved Jean a few weeks ago."
They both returned at that moment, looking warm but satisfied.
"The pater is growling downstairs that he can't get one of you to play to him nowadays," said Cuthbert. "There are to be no more weddings he says."
"Oh, there never is to be no more anything," wailed Betty. "And I'm only half grown up. You've exhausted papa before one of you have done anything."
"Well, let Jean go and rehearse her concert," remarked Isobel calmly.
"I require a good accompanist," said Jean.
Elma had been looking out at the window. She heard the gate open, to four minor notes, containing the augmented fourth of the opening to the Berlioz "King of Thule," which they all loved. Somebody had said "Oil that gate," and Mr. Leighton had objected because it reminded him of the "King of Thule." When Elma heard the magic notes, and looked out at the window, she could have dispensed with minor intervals for the rest of her existence.
Mr. Symington was coming up the drive.
Oh, Love of our Lives, and now this! She could at last recover from typhoid fever.
"I don't think any of you need go down to papa," said she. "There's an old johnny come to see him."
The bell rang at that moment.
Cuthbert approached her.
"I should fancy," said he, "that with all the good training you have had from Miss Grace, you would have known better than to talk of old johnnies. Who's the josser, anyway?"
"Cuthbert, my darling boy, you are just a little bit vulgar. Cuthbert, I've never been so happy in my life as I am at the present moment."
"So long as you don't weep about it, I don't mind," said Cuthbert.
Elma got up. "I think I could dance," said she.
"Do," said Cuthbert, and put his arm round her.
To the dismay of the girls, he swung Elma into the midst of the wedding trousseaux. Boxes were snatched up, tissue paper sent flying in all directions. Every girl in the room screamed maledictions on them both. This was quite unlike Elma, to be displaying her own feelings at the risk of anything else in the world. They stopped with a wild whirl.
"Elma wanted to dance," said Cuthbert coolly, "and as she hasn't had any exercise lately, I thought it would be good for her. Have some more?" he asked her.
A demon of delight danced in Elma's eyes.
"Why, certainly," she said politely.
There was no holding them in at all.
Elma had her first real lecture, from Mabel of all people.
"I think it's very inconsiderate of you, Elma--just when we are so busy. You might arrange to stop fooling with Cuthbert when these things are lying about. It isn't fair of you."
"Oh, Mabs," said Elma, "you don't know! I've been under the clouds so long--thunder clouds, with everything raining down on me, and hardly any sunshine at all. And just at the present moment I'm on top of the clouds, treading on air; I can't describe it. But even although you are so solemn, and Isobel is so vexed, and Jean is so haughty, and Betty is simply vicious, why, even in spite of that, I'd like another dance with Cuthbert."
Her eyes shone. (Oh, what--what was taking place down stairs?)
Cuthbert said "Come on," in a wild way. These spirits had been natural with him just lately.
But this time five girls intervened.
"Not if I know it," said Isobel.
And "Get you to your Adelaide Maud," cried Betty. So there was no more dancing for Elma just then.
"However," said she, "for the first time in my life, I think, I'm really looking forward to Tuesday night." They were to have a dance in honour of Isobel's wedding. "I think that whether Dr. Merryweather is alive or dead, I shall dance the whole evening." She began to adopt Jean's manner. "Do you know," she said to her, "I feel so inspired. I think I could go and compose an anthem!" (What were they saying downstairs?)
"Oh," said Betty. "She said that just before she took ill, you know. And I lay awake at night thinking she would die. Because I asked you, you know, just in fun, were you going to die because you wanted to write an anthem."
"On the contrary," said Elma, "I now want to write an anthem because I'm about to live."
"Look here, Elma," said Mabel sedately, "if you don't sit down and keep yourself quiet, I shall get Dr. Merryweather to come."
"If he has time," said Isobel drily.
"Time?" asked Mabel.
"Yes, before he gets married to Miss Grace."
That bomb burst itself to silence in the most complete pause that had fallen on the Leighton family for a long time. They began to collect their scattered senses with difficulty. Elma thought, "Mr. Symington in the drawing-room and Miss Grace going to be married! Am I alive or dead?"
"Didn't you notice?" said Isobel's calm voice. "Haven't you seen that Dr. Merryweather's heart is with Miss Grace? You could tell that from the colour of his gloves. Lemon yellow ever since Miss Annie died."
"Oh, Isobel," said Mabel gravely.
Elma remembered her asking, "And Miss Grace, this man, was he----" and Saunders opening the door and announcing, "Dr. Merryweather." Was this something more than a coincidence, and was Isobel right? Surely Miss Grace would have let her know. Then the certainty that Miss Grace would far more easily let an alien like Isobel know, by reason of her own embarrassment, than a friend like Elma through frank and easy confidence, began to convince her. She heard the gate sing its little song of warning again at that moment. Miss Meredith tripped in.
Miss Meredith!
Elma put her head out at the open window.
"Oh, Miss Meredith, do come upstairs, we've such a lot to show you."
Sarah came safely up. (Oh the relief!) What if she met Mr. Symington, and this new castle of cards came tumbling down to more interference from that quarter. Besides, they were soon going to tea, and Mabel was still unwarned. Elma discreetly hoped that Mabel would not faint. As for herself, her shakiness seemed gone for ever. She was a lion, defending Mabel.
Miss Meredith floated about the room. "Perfectly sweet," she said one minute, and "Isn't it a dream?" the next. (What was Mr. Symington saying in the drawing-room?)
It came alarmingly near tea-time. Elma made everybody prink up a little. "We are all such frights," she said, "and there's some old johnny with papa in the drawing-room."
"I do believe you know who it is," said Betty, "and won't tell us." She was in a suspicious mood with society in general.
"I do," said Elma simply. "It's Mr. Symington."
Mabel did not faint. She was providentially with her back to the others, packing a tulle dress in tissue paper just then, and one has to be very particular with tulle. She was quite collected and calm when she finished. Miss Meredith was the colour of the Liberty green screen behind her. Her energy did not fail her in this crisis however.
"Why, it's nice Mr. Symington comes back," she said. "Is he coming to the wedding?"
"He is," said Elma. "He was my 'particular.' I asked Isobel if I might invite him."
"Who is he anyway?" asked Isobel, patting her hair gently in front of a mirror.
("Oh, Isobel, my friend, if you only knew that," Elma conferred with herself, "you wouldn't perhaps be the centre of attraction to-day.")
"He's a man who's great friends with the pater," said Jean unconcernedly. "He goes abroad a lot and writes up things and develops photos and has a place in Wales."
"A place in Wales, how nice!" said the London girl. "But it isn't the great Mr. Symington, is it?"
"Why, yes, I suppose it must be," said Jean.
"Of course it is," said Miss Meredith, socially active once more. "Mr. Symington is a very famous young man."
"Good gracious," said the London girl, "my curling tongs at once, please. These surprises are very demoralizing. Look at my hair."
They all made themselves beautiful for "the great Mr. Symington."
Mabel turned a pair of wide eyes on Elma. Elma nodded like a little mother, with a wealth of smiles at her lips. (Oh, Mabel, play up!)
Cuthbert had found his mother coming out of the drawing-room.
"Well, you seem in good spirits," said she,
"Who is in there?" he asked.
"Mr. Symington."
"Oh, it's he, is it?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Oh, for no particular reason," said Cuthbert. "Only Elma saw him coming in and called him an old johnny. I knew something was up."
"Elma?" asked Mrs. Leighton anxiously.
"Yes. And she's in great form about something. Haven't seen her so gay for an age."
Mrs. Leighton's eyes dropped. "Poor little girl," she said to herself. She thought it best to proceed upstairs, and break some of the surprise of Mr. Symington's arrival.
She found them in a room where boxes were piled in every direction. It was like her that in her present dilemma she should immediately begin to reprove them for their untidy habits.
"This room is really a disgrace," she said. "Just look at all these boxes! And it's tea-time and not one of you in the drawing-room with your father, the only afternoon he has too! Elma, what have you been doing to make your hair so untidy?"
"My hair is only a wig, and this is my room," said Elma firmly. "For the last ten minutes I have been trying to get to my own mirror. We are prinking ourselves up for the great Mr. Symington."
"Oh," said Mrs. Leighton. "So you know. Well, he only got the invitation a few days ago, when he was buried in Servia or some outlandish place. He came right on."
"For my wedding?" asked Isobel in cool surprise.
Miss Meredith gazed in a rather frightened manner at every one.
"No," said Elma. "Not altogether. There were others reasons." She determined to cut all the ground from under the feet of Sarah. "I arranged it with Mr. Symington," she said in an important voice. Then, with the airy manner of the London girl, she patted down the turbulent wig, which had so annoyed Mrs. Leighton. "He is a perfect duck," she said lightly.
CHAPTER XXX
"Now here there dawneth"
The organ in the Ridgetown church pealed in a stately manner the wedding music fromLohengrin. Isobel, the bride, moved with exactitude slowly down the aisle with her three bridesmaids. Mr. Leighton, presumably leading her, was compelled to delay himself several times. Who could have known that the arm lying on his was manipulating matters so conscientiously! It was inimitably done. Isobel'sentouragearranged itself in perfect order, and knowing that everything was properly completed, she raised her eyes to those of Robin just as the last chord sounded. This had been rigorously rehearsed, but nothing could have been better carried out. The ceremony of marriage commenced.
There were more dramas played out that day than what Ridgetown called "the drama" of Mabel's acting bridesmaid to Isobel. Ridgetown was delightfully curious in noting that Robin, for instance, looked nervous and disturbed. The darting glances which had so unnerved the Leighton family long ago, dwelt on Isobel only occasionally. Robin would not be at his happiest till the ceremony was over.
Whether by accident or design, Miss Grace, who was unable to join the wedding party on account of her mourning, came in quietly to church with Dr. Merryweather. Here was drama enough if one liked to look further as Isobel had done. Then Mr. Symington had been ordered to be an usher. The groomsman, a Mr. Clive, a friend of the Merediths, was, of course, out of the usher part of the business. So Cuthbert and George Maclean and Lance and Mr. Symington were requisitioned. They had to show in the guests and give the cue to the organist, and take the bridesmaids out afterwards. Miss Meredith had been of opinion that they did not require so many ushers. The girls insisted on four at least.
Elma was not in the seventh heaven which she had inhabited a few days before. There was something still unravelled about Mr. Symington's attitude.
She was not to know, of course, that he had immediately placed himself in Mr. Leighton's hands in regard to Mabel. That much-startled person only thought of another complication--Mabel, when Elma had set her heart on him! In a disturbed manner he had endeavoured to let Mr. Symington know that he might find difficulties in the way. He begged, above all things, that he might not rush matters.
"Give us time to think a little," he pleaded. "We have had so much of this sort of thing lately."
Mr. Symington would have preferred to have had it out then and there. "You understand," he said, "that I left this unsaid before, because I thought, in fact I was led definitely to understand that she was engaged to Meredith, and that my presence here was a trouble to her."
"Ah, that's it--perhaps," said Mr. Leighton. "It was not because of Meredith. There may be other reasons."
Mr. Symington's hopes went down at a rush.
When the girls crowded into the room for tea, his greeting and Mabel's consisted of a mere clasp of the hand on either side with no words spoken at all. But Mabel felt suddenly as though she could face the world. Was it strength he had given her by the mere touch of his hand? She could not raise her eyes to let him or anybody else see what was written there.
The deadlock puzzled the triumphant Elma. Miss Grace comforted her a little. "These things always come right--sooner or later."
These two good friends had not the firmness to probe that remark further, though Elma was dying to ask about Dr. Merryweather.
"I'd like to help them," said Elma instead, "but I should feel like the 'tactful woman' that Mr. Maclean was laughing at. He says that when tactful women write novels they are always making people drop handkerchiefs in order to help the heroine, or having a friend outside or something of that sort at the right moment. It made me feel so silly over sending the invitation to Mr. Symington. Especially," continued she sadly, "since he doesn't seem to be making much use of it. It's very enervating to be tactful, especially when your tact doesn't come off."
Miss Grace looked at her long and kindly.
"Don't bury your sympathies in the cause of others too much, dear," she said. "With some of us, with you and me for instance, it might become more of a weakness perhaps than a real virtue."
Elma immediately thought, "There is something in what Isobel said after all."
Instead of giving voice to it, she said, "I have bothered about Mabs, I know. But then, I haven't any affairs of my own, you see."
"Oh, dear child, never be sure, never be too sure about that," said Miss Grace.
A delightful feeling stole over Elma. Could it be possible that anything exciting could ever happen to herself. But no--how could it?
"I think it's papa always telling us no woman ought to be married until she's twenty-three that de--demoralizes me so," she said. "And lately, since Mabs is nearly that age, he is actually running it on to twenty-five."
"Yes, but they never really mean it," said Miss Grace.
"Well, one thing I intend to see to is that Mr. Symington takes Mabel out of church after the wedding. Sarah wants him. And Sarah is not going to have him."
"I think you are quite right there," said Miss Grace.
Elma got hold of Mr. Symington herself. "I want you to do me a great favour," she said. "I want you to escort Mabel on Tuesday."
"It isn't a favour," he said. He pulled his big shoulders together and looked magnificent. He was browned and tanned with the sun. Only a slight frown between the eyes to be cleared away and then he would be the old Mr. Symington.
"Well, please do it like this. Ask Mabel if you may."
"Now?" asked Mr. Symington.
"If you like," said Elma.
They were on the lawn after dinner, and Mr. Symington in two days had hardly had a glimpse of Mabel, far less any conversation with her.
She was talking to Isobel.
He walked straight up to her.
"May I escort you out of church on Tuesday?" he asked.
Mabel looked up in a puzzled way, then her eyes lit with shyness and something much more brilliant than had been seen in them for a long time.
"Yes," she said simply.
(Could he know how her heart thumped to that quiet "yes"?)
"Thank you."
(Oh, after all, after all, could the sun shine after all!)
Isobel broke in coldly.
"I had understood from Robin that Mr. Symington would take Miss Meredith."
Mabel turned cold. She could not help it, for the life of her, she could not help it, she turned an appealing glance on Mr. Symington. This he had hardly required, but it helped him to a joyous answer.
"Oh, no, Miss Leighton. Some mistake. I'm bound to Miss Mabel."
Elma strolled up. "It's all because of Cuthbert's insisting on taking Helen. Cuthbert ought to have taken Mabel. Mr. Clive takes the first bridesmaid; Mr. Symington, Mabel; George Maclean, Jean."
"Who takes you?" asked Mr. Symington.
"Oh, I'm not in the procession," said Elma.
"Yes, you are." Mabel was quite animated now. "The whole family trails out in pairs with somebody or another."
George Maclean strolled up.
"I shall take Elma," he said.
"No, you won't! You take Jean."
"I won't be taken by George Maclean," cried Jean. "He's always horrid to me."
"Wire for Slavska," interpolated Betty.
"Is this my wedding, or whose is it?" asked Isobel.
They settled everything once more. The real result lay in Mr. Symington's determination about Mabel.
He came to Elma afterwards.
"Is there anything under the sun you want, which you haven't got?" he asked her. "Because I should like to present it to you here and now."
That cleared up things incalculably for the wedding. Elma sitting in front saw only Mabel, and Mabel's face was the colour of a pink rose. Mr. Symington took her out of church after the wedding, next to the first bridesmaid.
Aunt Katharine followed them with her lorgnette.
"They're a fine couple," she said to Elma. "It's a pity Mabel spoiled herself with this Meredith man. Mr. Symington might lead her out in earnest. I always told your mother what it would be."
There was no squashing of Aunt Katharine.
Mabel had begun to see land after having tossed on what had seemed an endless sea. She had been without any hope at all, but it was necessary to appear throughout as though she had some safe anchor holding her in port. The joy of delivery was almost more than she could bear. She became afraid of looking at Mr. Symington. After the arrival of the guests at the White House, she managed to slip out and disappear upstairs. Her own room had people in it helping to robe Isobel. She stole into the schoolroom. Too late of making up her mind, since Mr. Symington, seeing a trail of pale silken skirts disappear there, tried the only door open to him on that landing. He found Mabel.
"Oh," said she blankly. "I wanted to get away--away from downstairs for a little."
He had some difficulty in replying.
"So I noticed," he said.
They lamely waited. Mabel caught at a window cord and played with it.
"We ought to go downstairs," she whispered.
Why she spoke in a whisper she could not imagine.
Mr. Symington came close to her.
"Mabs," he said, "just for three minutes I mean to call you Mabs. And after that--if you are offended--you can turn me off to the ends of the earth again. You know why I left before."
She bent her head a little.
"You didn't want me to go? You didn't want me to go! Say that much, won't you?"
She could not answer.
"I know what it means if you do," he said. "Oh don't I know what it means? Mabs, I'm going to make you care for me--as I do for you--can you possibly imagine how much I care for you--why won't you speak to me?"
Mabel never spoke to him at all.
He happened to take her hand just then, and the same confidence which had so strangely come to her a few days ago on his arrival, came to her once more. He took her hand, and time stood still.
Somebody outside, a vague time afterwards, called for Mabel. It dawned on them both that they were attending Isobel's wedding.
"We ought to go downstairs," whispered Mabel.
Her conversation was certainly very limited. They both smiled as they noticed this, a comprehensive, understanding, oh! a different smile to any they had ever allowed themselves.
"We will, when you've just once--Mabs--look up at me. Now--once."
Time stood still once more, but it took the last of the frown from between the eyes of Mr. Symington.
"Now for Isobel's wedding party," cried he.
Mr. Leighton was stunned a little with the news. "Only one stipulation," said he. "I want to tell Elma myself."
Mabel was terribly disappointed.
"Oh, papa--of all people--I wanted to tell Elma."
He was adamant however, even when Mr. Symington added his requests.
"You've interfered seriously enough between me and one of my daughters," Mr. Leighton said severely. "Leave me the other."
So nothing was mentioned until Mr. Leighton should tell Elma. Mrs. Leighton was nervous about the whole thing, yet in an underhand way very proud of Mabel.
"I can't see that any of you are at all suited to be the wife of a man like Mr. Symington," she said to Mabel pessimistically. "But your father thinks it is all right." She had had rather a long day with Aunt Katharine.
Elma saw that the clouds had lifted where Mabel was concerned, and Mr. Symington was in magnificent spirits. She thought they might have told her something, but she was sent to lie down with no news at all until the dance in the evening. Isobel left regally. There was not much of the usual scrimmage of a wedding-leave-taking about her departure. Her toque and costume were irreproachable. Miss Meredith attended her dutifully, as though she were a bridesmaid herself. But with Robin she had felt too motherly for that. Indeed, some new qualities in Miss Meredith seemed to be coming uppermost.
Dancing was in full swing in the evening when Mr. Leighton methodically put on an overcoat and took Elma to sit out in the verandah. "It is to prevent your dancing too much," he told her.
Elma had the feeling of being manipulated as she had been when she was ill. What did all this mystery mean? She tucked in readily enough beside her father. The night was warm, with a clear moon, and the lights from the drawing-room and on the balcony shed pretty patches of colour on her white dress and cloak.
Mr. Leighton began to talk of Adelaide Maud of all people. She was there, with her sisters. They had at last dropped the armour of etiquette which had prevented more than one from ever appearing at the Leightons.
"I don't suppose any of you really know what that girl has come through," said Mr. Leighton. "All these years it has gone on. A constant criticism, you know. Mrs. Dudgeon found out long ago about Cuthbert, and what Cuthbert calls 'roasted' her continually. Adelaide Maud remained the fine magnificently true girl she is to-day. That is a difficult matter when one's own family openly despises the people one has set one's heart on. She never gave a sign of giving in either way--did she?"
"Not a sign," said Elma. "Adelaide Maud is a delicious brick, she always has been. The Story Books have come true at last."
"It does not sound like being in battle," said Mr. Leighton, in a pertinacious way. "But a battle of that sort is far more real than many of the fights we back up in a public manner. One relieves the poor, and you girls give concerts for hospitals, but who can give a concert to relieve the like of the trouble that Adelaide Maud has gone through? She never wavered."
Elma thought of another fight--should she tell her father?
"We talk about Ridgetown being a slow place, but what a drama can be lived through here!" went on Mr. Leighton. "Isobel, for instance, thinks there's nothing in life unless one attends fifty balls a month. Yet she lived her little drama in Ridgetown. And she has learned to be civil to Miss Meredith. There's another fight for you. It cost her several pangs, let me tell you."
("What did it all lead to?" thought Elma.)
"Oh, there were other fights too, papa, but one I think is over. Have you seen Mabel's face to-night?"
Mr. Leighton started.
Elma required some sort of confidant, "or I shall explode or something," she explained. She told her father about Mr. Symington.
"And I've been worrying so because it seemed so sad about Mabel. And she never gave it away, did she? And when you all thought so much of Isobel when she first came, and Mabel was getting dropped all round, she never said a word, did she?"
"No," said Mr. Leighton, with a long-drawn impatient sort of relief in his voice. "No, but you did. You talked so much about the man all through your illness that your mother thought you were in love with him yourself. Ridiculous nonsense," he said testily. "And here have I been trying to brace you up to hearing that Mabel is engaged to him, and the scoundrel wishes to marry her at once."
Dr. Merryweather, who had said that Elma was not to be excited, ought to have been on the spot just then. She sat on her father's knee and hugged him.
"Oh, papa, papa, how glorious," said she. "Never mind, I shall always stay with you, I shall, I shall."
"Oh, will you?" said Mr. Leighton dismally. "Mabel said the same thing not so long ago."
Mrs. Leighton and Aunt Katharine came on the balcony, and behind them, Mabel and Mr. Symington.
"Isn't this a midsummer's night's dream?" sighed Elma, after the congratulations were over. "I shall get up in the morning ever afterwards, and I shall say, 'Now here there dawneth another blue day'--even although it's as black as midnight."
"Well, now that we're rid of Mabel," said Aunt Katharine placidly, "when will your turn come along?"
"Oh, Elma is going to stay with me," said Mr. Leighton.
"H'm. Well, she always admired Miss Grace," said Aunt Katharine. "There's nothing like being an old maid from the beginning."
Elma stirred herself gently, and laughed in the moonlight.
"Miss Grace is to be married to Dr. Merryweather," she said with a smile. It was her piece of news, reserved till now for a proper audience.
Miss Grace had told her anxiously in the course of the afternoon. "Oh," Elma had said, "how nice! Dr. Merryweather is such a duck!"
"Do you think so?" had asked Miss Grace seriously. "Miss Annie used to think he was a little loud in his manners."
Miss Grace would ever be loyal to Miss Annie. Adelaide Maud came out just then with Cuthbert. "How much finer to have been loyal to the like of Cuthbert!" Elma could not help the thought. Ah, well, there were fights and fights, and no doubt Miss Grace had won on her particular battlefield.
A new dance commenced indoors, and some came searching for partners.
"Mr. Leighton," said the voice of George Maclean, "won't you spare Elma for this dance?"
They turned round to look at him.
"Elma wants to stay with me," said Mr. Leighton gravely, putting his arms round her.
"Hph!" said Aunt Katharine in an undertone. "It's another Miss Grace, sure enough."
"Why don't you go and dance?" asked Adelaide Maud of Elma.
There were her two ideals, Miss Grace and Adelaide Maud, crossing swords as it were with one another. And there was George Maclean waiting at the window of the drawing-room. A Strauss waltz struck up inside, one which she loved. Ah, well, there were several kinds of fights in the world. She felt in some inscrutable way that it was "weak" to stay with her father.
She went in with George Maclean.
Mr. Leighton pulled up a chair for his wife, as the others, including even Aunt Katharine, faded from the balcony.
"I take this as an omen, they are all leaving us," he said in a sad manner.
Mrs. Leighton sighed gently. "We did the same ourselves, didn't we, John?"
And with a Strauss waltz hammering out its joyous commanding rhythm, a son and daughter engaged, and Elma just deserted, Mr. Leighton replied very dismally indeed, "I suppose so."
"Hush," said Mrs. Leighton. "Who knows? This may be another."
It was Jean with a University acquaintance of Cuthbert's.
He placed her carefully in a chair and bent in a lounging manner over her.
"You see," said Jean in a high intense voice, "it's the method that does it."
"Ha," said Mr. Leighton joyously. "Herr Slavska may yet save me a daughter."