CHAPTER IX
My brilliant scheme, born of want of foresight and knowledge of the world, was to go to Boston, where I had some friends, and start life humbly as a music teacher. Muriel was quite ready to face the future with me, which was much to the credit of her courage and to my credit as a lover. We were quite unaware of how watchful mother Joseph and her ready tool, Lizette, had been, and that Doctor Joseph had been telegraphed to before we started. Being ignorant of these things, we set off with but scanty preparation in the way of personal effects, and but little money.
We travelled second class, which we thought was very cunning, when of course it was mere stupidity; for we were far more noticeable in a second class coach than we ever should have been in first class. It really did not matter much, as it happened, because a detective was on our trail very soon after our train was out of sight of Riviere du Loup.
We were happy and confident for a matter of perhaps four hours, when a male person came and sat immediately opposite us. He was an ordinary-looking individual, with a face like a mask; but it was quite evident that we were objects of interest to him. After a short time he opened conversation with me by asking me if I was Mr. Wesblock. I replied that my name was Wesblock, and knew at once what was coming.
“Well, I presume,” said this stranger, “that the lady with you is Miss Joseph. I am Detective Pfhal.I just happened fortunately to be on this line. I have a telegram in my pocket from Doctor Joseph instructing me to conduct the lady home, which I will do, if you have no objections.” And he smiled at the idea of any objection I might make.
To say that I was exceedingly uncomfortable is hardly to express my sensations; but I kept my head and said:
“In the first place, Mr. Pfhal, I presume I may examine your credentials. If they prove correct I will ask you to retire a few minutes while I discuss the situation with Miss Joseph, whom I will ask to decide what our action will be. We cannot hinder you from following us, but you cannot take us anywhere we are unwilling to go.”
The sense of Muriel’s being at my side gave me the courage to make this speech. Mr. Pfhal smiled again, exhibited a silver badge, which he wore on his suspenders, and produced Doctor Joseph’s telegram, after which he retired to the end of the car, keeping all the while his mask-like face towards us.
Muriel and I turned and looked at each other, and smiled as well as we could. We came down from the clouds and discussed things as they were, and made such plans for the future as our forethought told us would be necessary. We concluded that there was nothing to do but to go to our respective homes and pretend to be good for a while. We swore the oaths of lovers to each other, and presently Mr. Pfhal came and sat down opposite to us once more; we informed him of our decision which he declared to be the only possible one, for the present, at any rate.
At the next station Pfhal carried my love away. I kissed her good-bye and continued my journeyalone. It is useless to attempt to explain my feelings. I was simply dazed, like a man passing slowly out of the condition of anæsthesia. I could not think in a straight line in any one direction. I knew I had made an awful mistake; that I would be laughed at by many, blamed by some; that I had now angered Muriel’s father and had put Muriel in a very bad light. I even fancied that she might turn from me herself and hate me for having made her look so foolish; but she was of a character not easily moved from a purpose. Mrs. Joseph, I knew, would make things very unpleasant as far as was in her power, and I hated to think of the grinning, cynical face of Lizette.
I decided to go to my mother, the only one who thoroughly understood me. She was at Kennebunk, on the coast of Maine, for the summer. It is a long, tiresome trip from Riviere du Loup to Kennebunk. It was particularly so for me. I neither ate nor slept, and could only think and worry and wonder. When I arrived at Kennebunk I was a mental and physical wreck. I was dirty, unkempt, tired, worried, angry, humiliated, and in a manner heart-broken as well.
My mother was never much surprised at any action of mine; so when I appeared before her, although she supposed me to be at the mill, her astonishment was not great. She saw by my looks that something important had happened. She took me to her room, and there I tearfully unfolded the tale of my latest exploit. She listened to me silently and unquestioningly, and when I had finished, kissed me as if I had been still a young repentant child.
“Never mind, son,” she said; “don’t fret and fume. Things will come out all right. Now lie down and have a good sleep. You are fagged out. The wholebusiness will look very much better to you when you are rested and have eaten a good meal.”
I felt better after dividing my troubles with mother, went to bed and slept soundly for eleven hours. I remained one day with mother and returned to the mill, where I remained for two months and kept busy, which is a great cure for everything. I had daily letters from Muriel, who was full of hope for our future, and continued to believe in me.
Mrs. Joseph made Muriel’s life very unhappy during these days; but, of course, accomplished nothing in her attempt to force a break with me. She was that kind of woman, known as a “nagger,” who never achieves anything but aggravation.
After making a mess of an elopement, I could hardly expect much sympathy from my father; his letters were all very cold, business-like, short, sharp, and to the point. I believe he was more annoyed at my failure than he would have been if I had successfully carried Muriel off. To him I wrote long and carefully thought-out explanations of my hopes and desires, which, together with my successful efforts to be a useful person at the mill, softened him to a great extent. Things were thus beginning to come to a peaceful level, when one day I received from my father a peremptory command to be in Montreal, at a certain hour of a certain day.
The unusual tone of his letter was disquieting and set me wondering what could be in store for me. I strongly suspected that the fact of the daily correspondence between Muriel and me had been discovered and that Mrs. Joseph was behind some move to give me trouble. My suspicion proved correct. When I arrived at the house, it was early evening and thedrawing-room was lighted up. I found mother, father, and Doctor Joseph awaiting me. As I walked in I observed that all three looked anything but good-natured.
Even mother looked very much put out. Doctor Joseph was a very plain-spoken man, and I judged that he had been making remarks which were more to the point than exactly pleasing. I never heard what had occurred before my entrance on the scene, and never had enough curiosity to ask what it was.
“Well, sir,” said the Doctor, addressing me, and taking me in from top to toe, with a very unfriendly eye; “a nice young reprobate you are. What have you to say for yourself?”
I sat down without replying.
“I want you to discontinue annoying my daughter,” he continued.
He was a large, masterful man. I was young, and he put me very ill at ease. I stammered and blushed and remained dumb.
“Well, well!” he said, stamping his heavy cane on the floor impatiently, “what have you to say? Do you intend to stop annoying us?”
“What do you want me to do?” I asked tremblingly.
“I want you to write to my daughter, now, before us three, that all this silly love business is ended. Write what you like, give what reasons you please, but make it plain to her that all is over between you and her,” and he laughed a mirthless, cynical laugh.
“Well, I won’t,” I blurted out.
“Oh, you won’t?” he asked.
“No, I won’t, unless Muriel tells me she wishes it, with her own lips,” I replied, gradually getting mymental feet. “I won’t take her written word which has been bullied out of her.”
I was on the verge of getting stormy, and at such times my voice invariably goes down into deep chest notes, and becomes very loud. These symptoms showed the Doctor I was unduly excited, and he turned to my father saying; “Mr. Wesblock, I think you should send your son away. Send him far away, to Scotland, where there is a very fine university, and I will pay half the expense.”
“Damn your impertinence,” said my father; “send your daughter away, or allow the young people to see each other under reasonable restrictions.”
“That is impossible,” said the Doctor. “I should not be forced to send my daughter away; your son is the aggressor. He cannot be allowed to come to my house. I have other intentions for my daughter. She is too young to marry yet, as is your son, who is moreover, I take it, without means and dependent upon you. It is useless to discuss the matter further; but I will take steps to protect myself and my family.”
“You are making a sensation of a youthful affair which has no real importance,” said my father. “Protect yourself as you see fit. I can see no reason for interfering with my son’s love affairs. I will bid you good-evening.”
Whereupon he left the room, and the wrathful Doctor could do no less than bow stiffly to my mother and take his departure.
Extremes meet. My father went to one extreme in considering my love affair of no consequence whatever, while Muriel’s father went to the other. Amongst them all—Muriel’s parents, Lizette, and my parents—they succeeded in driving Muriel and me into a hastyand ill-considered marriage, which might have turned out very disastrously for one or both of us.
After long talks with my mother and father, I returned to the mill and wrote Muriel a long, true and explicit report of the events. I had the sincere sympathy of my mother in this matter. As for my father, he was inclined to be amused by my entanglement in a love affair. He entered thoroughly into my feelings regarding Mrs. Joseph, although he had never met her. Later, when these two came to know each other, Mrs. Joseph amused my father and he horrified her. So profound was her horror of him that she actually liked me in comparison.
During one of our ensuing talks, my father said to me: “Son, you talk of marriage as if it was an end; it is not an end, it is only a means towards an end. You have no idea of the responsibilities you propose to undertake; you are a mere child in worldly things. Where would you be without me?”
“But I have you, father,” I replied. “And why shouldn’t my marriage turn out as well as other people’s marriages? We all have to start. You married young.”
“My poor innocent,” said my father. “Yes, I married young, but I had brains and health, no social position and no education.”
“Have I no brains, governor?” I asked.
“You have, son, but not the kind that makes a living easily, and you have no health to fall back on.” My face fell.
“Cheer up, boy,” he added thereupon, by way of consolation. “You may be lucky—ay, and happy, yet never marry!”
“But I am engaged to Muriel Joseph,” said I.
This made him laugh, and he walked away. Here in truth he made a mistake. He should have taken me off into the woods and talked to me for four days. Heart-to-heart talks in the wide privacy of the woods, when there is no hurry, are very enlightening. Every effort was now made to separate Muriel and me, to stop our correspondence and prevent our meetings; but we had too many friends and supporters, and really suffered but little inconvenience from the watchfulness of Mrs. Joseph, Lizette and others. The obstacles put in our way only added zest to the game and a touch of stubbornness to our determination. Muriel’s home became very much divided against itself, and after a very miserable six months she was goaded into open rebellion, packed her trunks and took refuge with a friendly aunt.
Dear, sweet, long-suffering, beautiful Aunt Molly. She seems now to have been nearer to me than any aunt of my own. Although she was the sister of Mrs. Joseph, she is entitled to all the adjectives with which I have introduced her. In exterior she was prim and proper, but she had an old-fashioned romantic heart. She was old and nearly bald, and wore lace caps, but her face was young and sweet and her smile winning. She was a widow who had seen a most miserable married life, but this had not soured her, and she was an inveterate matchmaker. So it was a great joy to her to take poor persecuted Muriel in.
The Doctor was a forceful and masterful man in every department of his life except that of his home, where the female element predominated. He followed Muriel, and used every endeavour to bring her to what he called her senses, but she demanded terms to which he knew Mrs. Joseph would not listen.
“Send for your lover,” he said to her finally while in a rage, “send for him; marry him if you will. I give my consent. Tell him this and you will see him withdraw, or I will be very much surprised. If he marries you, you will rue it to the end of your days. I am through with you.”
These things being duly reported to me, I went back forthwith to Montreal with fire in my eye and determination in my soul. What else could I do? Could I allow an old man, dominated by a foolish, headstrong woman, to dare me to marry his daughter whom I dearly loved?
Supported by my old chum, John, I bearded the Doctor in his office. When he saw me he frowned and greeted me with one word: “Well?” I suspect that he had more confidence in me and more kind feelings towards me than he dared show, for he had to do what he was told.
“Well,” I replied, “I have come to ask for the written consent to your daughter’s marriage with me. You have declared that you will consent; are you prepared to do it? If you do, we will be married this evening at her aunt’s house.”
The old man scowled and grunted; but said nothing. He sat down at his desk, wrote his consent and handed it to me.
“Let me tell you, young man,” he said, “you are doing me a great injury; you are doing my daughter an injustice, and you are ruining yourself. But I will not stop you, for I must put an end to the intolerable condition of things in my house; surprises, explosions, plots and counter-plots; it is impossible. Take my daughter. She will lead you by the nose for the rest of your life.”
I might have argued the case with him, but I knew it would be useless. I offered him my hand as a tacit hand of good faith, but he was pleased to ignore it, and John and I withdrew, two very much shaken young men.
Muriel and I were married the same evening at the house of Muriel’s aunt; and John was my best man. Doctor Joseph was present, silent, stern and unrelenting. It was a very informal affair, a marriage in haste, which has been repented several times since. But when it is looked back upon, at this date, by the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Wesblock, it is seen to have been on the whole good and not to be regretted. Doctor Joseph took his gloomy presence away immediately after the ceremony, and we made a bold attempt at being merry.
Aunt Molly was radiant, in her glory; it was one of the happiest events of her life. She produced plum cake and her very best wine, which was a sacred thing never even to be thought of except on momentous occasions. “Oh, you naughty young things,” she said, “you will be very, very happy and the Doctor will forgive you, I know.” The Doctor sat silent. If he had spoken, he would have wept. I was really sorry for him. Aunt Molly did her best to cheer him up by talking at him. She did not dare to address him directly. But he neither moved nor spoke.
Two young, foolish things we were, Muriel and I, thinking that our troubles were all over, whereas they had not yet begun. My wife was not eighteen and I was twenty-one.