"A MAD MARRIAGE, MY MASTERS."
When the party met at a late breakfast the next morning, Mrs. Stillwater
seemed to have quite recovered her health, and what was still better, in
her opinion, her complexion. She was once again a delicately blooming
rose. They were still at breakfast when Sylvanus Haught burst in upon
them, bowed to his grandfather, bowed to Rose Stillwater, and seized
Cora Rothsay around the neck and covered her with kisses, all in a
minute and before he spoke a word. Old Aaron Rockharrt glared at him.
Rose Stillwater smiled on him. But Cora Rothsay put her arms around his
neck and kissed him with tears of pleased affection.
"Well, sir! You have got through," said the Iron King with dignified
gravity.
"Yes, sir, got through, 'by the skin of my teeth,' as I might say! And
got leave of absence, waiting my commission. Hurrah, Cora! Hurrah, the
Rose that all admire! I shall be your cavalier for the next three months
at least, and until they send me out to Fort Devil's Icy Peak, to be
killed and scalped by the redskins!" exclaimed the new fledged soldier,
throwing up his cap.
"Will you have the goodness to remember where you are, sir, and endeavor
to conduct yourself with some manner approximating toward propriety?"
demanded Mr. Rockharrt, with solemn dignity.
"I beg your pardon, grandfather! I beg your pardon, ladies," said
Sylvanus, assuming so sudden and profound a gravity as to inspire a
suspicion of irony in the minds of the two women.
But old Aaron Rockharrt understood only an humble and suitable apology.
"Have you breakfasted?" he inquired in a modified tone.
"No, sir; and I am as hungry as a wolf--I mean I took the first train
down this morning without waiting for breakfast."
The Iron King, whose glare had cut short the first half of the young
man's reply, now rang, and when the waiter appeared, gave the necessary
orders.
And soon Sylvanus was seated at the table, sharing the morning meal of
his family.
"Now that my brother has joined us shall we leave for North End to-day,
grandfather?" inquired Cora, as they all arose from breakfast.
"No; nor need you make any suggestions of the sort. When I am ready to
go home, I will tell you. I have business to transact before I leave New
York," gruffly replied the family bear.
Rose Stillwater took up one of the morning papers and ran her eyes down
column after column, over page after page. Presently she came to the
item she was so anxiously looking for:
"The Very Reverend the Dean of Olivet left the city last evening by the
steamer Nighthawk for Boston."
With a sigh of relief she laid the paper down.
Mr. Rockharrt came and sat down beside her on the sofa, and began to
speak to her in a low voice.
Sylvan, sitting by Cora at the other end of the apartment, began to tell
all about the exercises at West Point which she had missed. His voice,
though not loud, was clear and lively, and quite drowned the sound of
Mr. Rockharrt and Mrs. Stillwater's words, which Cora could see were
earnest and important. At last Rose got up in some agitation and hurried
out of the room. Then old Aaron Rockharrt came up to the young people
and stood before them. There was something so ominous in his attitude
and expression that his two grandchildren looked dismayed even before he
spoke.
"Sir and madam," he said, addressing the young creatures as if they were
dignitaries of the church or state, "I have to inform you that I am
about to marry Mrs. Stillwater. The ceremony will be performed at the
church to-morrow noon. I shall expect you both to attend us there as
witnesses."
Saying which the Iron King arose and strode out of the room.
The sister and brother lifted their eyes, and might have stared each
other out of countenance in their silent, unutterable consternation.
Sylvan was the first to find his voice.
"Cora! It is an outrage! It is worse! It is an infamy!" he exclaimed, as
the blood rushed to his face and crimsoned it.
Cora said never a word, but burst into tears and sobbed aloud.
"Cora! don't cry! You have me now! Oh! the old man is certainly mad, and
ought to be looked after. Cora, darling, don't take it so to heart! At
his age, too; seventy-seven! He'll make himself the laughing stock of
the world! Oh, Cora, don't grieve so! It does not matter after all! Such
a disgrace to the family! Oh, come now, you know, Cora! this is not the
way to welcome a fellow home! For any old man to make such a--Oh, I say,
Cora! come out of that now! If you don't, I swear I will take my hat and
go out to get a drink!"
"Oh, don't! don't!" gasped his sister; "don't you lend a hand to
breaking my heart."
"Well, I won't, darling, if you'll only come out of that! It is not
worth so much grief."
"I will--stop--as soon as--I can!" sobbed the young woman, "but when I
think--of his reverent gray hairs--brought to such dishonor--by a mere
adventuress--and we--so powerless--to prevent it, I feel as if--I should
die."
"Oh, nonsense; you look at it too gravely. Besides, old men have married
beautiful young women before now!" said Sylvan, troubled by his sister's
grief, and tacking around in his opinions as deftly as ever did any
other politician.
"Yes, and got themselves laughed at and ridiculed for their folly!"
sighed Cora, who had ceased to sob.
"Behind their backs, and that did not hurt them one bit."
"Oh, if Uncle Fabian were only here!"
"Why, what could he do to prevent the marriage?"
"I do not know. But I know this, that if any man could prevent this
degradation, he would be Uncle Fabian! It would be no use, I fear, to
telegraph to Clarence!"
"Clarence!" said Sylvanus with a laugh, "Why he has no more influence
with the Iron King than I have. His father calls him an idiot--and he
certainly is weakly amiable. He would back his father in anything the
old man had set his heart upon. But, Cora, listen here, my dear! You and
I are free at present. We need not countenance this marriage by our
presence. I, your brother, can take you to another hotel, or take you
off to Saratoga, where we can stay until I get my orders, and then you
can go out with me wherever I go. There! the Devil's Icy Peak itself
will be a holier home than Rockhold, for you."
Cora had become quite calm by this time, and she answered quietly:
"No; you misapprehend me, Sylvan. It was not from indignation or
resentment that I cried, and not at all for myself. I grieved for him,
the spellbound old man! No, Sylvanus; since we feel assured that no
power of ours, no power on earth, can turn him from his purpose, we must
do our duty by him. We must refrain from giving him pain or making him
angry; for his own poor old sake, we must do this! Sylvan, I must attend
his bride to the altar; and you must attend him--as he desired us to
do."
"'Desired!' by Jove, I think he commanded! I do not remember ever to
have heard his Majesty the King of the Cumberland Mines request anybody
to do anything in the whole course of his life. He always ordered him to
do it! Well, Cora, dear, I will be 'best' man to the bridegroom, since
you say so! I have always obeyed you, Cora. Ah! you have trained me for
the model of an obedient husband for some girl, Cora! Now, I am going
down stairs to smoke a cigar. You don't object to that, I hope, Mrs.
Rothsay?" lightly inquired the youth as he sauntered out of the room.
He had just closed the door when Mrs. Stillwater entered.
She came in very softly, crossed the room, sat down on the sofa beside
Cora, and slipped her arm around the lady's waist, purring and cooing:
"I have been waiting to find you alone, dearest. I just heard your
brother go down stairs. Mr. Rockharrt has told you, dear?"
"Yes; he has told me. Take your arms away from me, if you please, Mrs.
Stillwater, and pray do not touch me again," quietly replied the young
lady, gently withdrawing herself from the siren's close embrace.
"You are displeased with me. Can you not forgive me, then?" pleaded
Rose, withdrawing her arms, but fixing her soft blue eyes pleadingly
upon the lady's face.
"You have given me no personal offense, Mrs. Stillwater."
"Cora, dear--" began Rose.
"Mrs. Rothsay, if you please," said Cora, in a quiet tone.
"Mrs. Rothsay, then," amended Rose, in a calm voice, as if determined
not to take offense--"Mrs. Rothsay, allow me to explain how all this
came to pass. I have always, from the time I first lived in his house,
felt a profound respect and affection for your grandfather--"
"Mr. Rockharrt, if you please," said Cora.
"For Mr. Rockharrt, then, as well as for his sainted wife, the late Mrs.
Rockharrt. I--"
"Madam!" interrupted Cora. "Is there nothing too holy to be profaned by
your lips? You should at least have the good taste to leave that lady's
sacred memory alone."
"Certainly, if you wish; but she was a good friend to me, and I served
her with a daughter's love and devotion. In my last visit to Rockhold I
also served Mr. Rockharrt more zealously than ever, because, indeed, he
needed such affectionate service more than before. He has grown so much
accustomed to my services that they now seem vitally necessary to him.
But, of course, I cannot take care of him day and night, in parlor and
chamber, unless I become his wife--'the Abisheg of his age.' And so,
Cora, dear--I beg pardon--Mrs. Rothsay, I have yielded to his pleadings
and consented to marry him."
"Mr. Rockharrt has already told me so," coldly replied Cora.
"And, dear, I wish to add this--that the marriage need make no
difference in our domestic relations at Rockhold."
"I do not understand you."
"I mean in the family circle."
"Oh! thank you!" said Cora, with the nearest approach to a sneer that
ever she made. "I have heard all you have to say, Mrs. Stillwater, and
now I have to reply--First, that I give you no credit for any respect or
affection that you may profess for Mr. Rockharrt, or for disinterested
motives in marrying the aged millionaire."
"Oh, Cora--Mrs. Rothsay!"
"I will say no more on that point. Mr. Rockharrt is old and worn with
many business cares. I would not willingly pain or anger him. Therefore,
because he wills it, for his sake, not for yours, I will attend you to
the altar. Also, if he should desire me to do so, I shall remain at
Rockhold until the return of Mr. Fabian Rockharrt."
At the sound of this name Rose Stillwater winced and shivered.
"Then, knowing that his favorite son will be near him, I shall leave him
with the freer heart and go away with my brother, withersoever he may be
sent. Mr. Fabian is expected to return within a few weeks, and will
probably be here long before my brother receives his orders. Now, Mrs.
Stillwater, I think all has been said between us, and you will please
excuse my leaving you," said Cora, as she arose and withdrew from the
room.
Then Rose Stillwater lost her self-command. Her blue eyes blazed, she
set her teeth, she doubled her fist, and shaking it after the vanished
form of the lady, she hissed:
"Very well, proud madam! I'll pay you for all this! You shall never
touch one cent of old Aaron Rockharrt's millions!"
Having launched this threat, she got up and went to her room. Ten
minutes later she drove out in a carriage alone. She did not return to
luncheon. Neither did Mr. Rockharrt, who had gone down to Wall Street.
Sylvan and Cora lunched alone, and spent the afternoon together in the
parlor, for they had much to say to each other after their long
separation, and much also to say of the impending marriage. During that
afternoon many packages and bandboxes came by vans, directed to Mrs.
Rose Stillwater. These were sent to her apartment. At dusk Mrs.
Stillwater returned and went directly to her room. She probably did not
care to face the brother and sister together, unsupported by their
grandfather. A few minutes later Mr. Rockharrt came in, looking moody
and defiant, as if quite conscious of the absurdity of his position, or
ready to crush any one who betrayed the slightest, sense of humor. Then
dinner was served, and Rose Stillwater came out of her room and entered
the parlor--a vision of loveliness--her widow's weeds all gone, her
dress a violet brocaded satin, with fine lace berthe and sleeve
trimmings, white throat and white arms encircled with pearl necklace and
bracelets; golden red hair dressed high and adorned with a pearl comb.
She came in smiling and took her place at the table.
Old Aaron Rockharrt looked up at her in surprise and not altogether with
pleasure. Rose Stillwater, seeing his expression of countenance, got a
new insight into the mind of the old man whom she had thought she knew
so well. During dinner, to cover the embarrassment which covered each
member of the small party, Sylvan began to talk of the cadets' ball at
West Point on the preceding evening; the distinguished men who were
present, the pretty girls with whom he had danced, the best waltzers,
and so forth, and then the mischievous scamp added:
"But there wasn't a brunette present as handsome as my sister Cora, nor
a blonde as beautiful as my own grandmamma-elect."
When they all left the table, Mrs. Stillwater went to her room, and Mr.
Rockharrt took occasion to say:
"I wish you both to understand the programme for to-morrow. There is to
be no fuss, no wedding breakfast, no nonsense whatever."
Sylvan thought to himself that the marriage alone was nonsense enough to
stand by itself, like a velvet dress, which is spoiled by additions; but
he said nothing. Mr. Rockharrt, standing on the rug with his back to the
mantlepiece and his hands clasped behind him, continued:
"Sylvan, you will wear a morning suit; Cora, you will wear a visiting
costume, just what you would wear to an ordinary church service. Rose
will be married in her traveling dress. Immediately after the ceremony
we, myself and wife, shall enter a carriage and drive to the railway
depot and take the train for Niagara. You two can return here or go to
Rockhold or wherever you will. We shall make a short tour of the Falls,
lakes, St. Lawrence River, and so on, and probably return to Rockhold by
the first of July. I cannot remain long from the works while Fabian is
away. Now, am I clearly understood?"
"Very clearly, sir," replied Sylvan, speaking for himself and sister.
"Then, good night; I am going to bed," said the Iron King, and without
waiting for a response, he strode out of the room.
"Who ever heard of a man dictating to a woman what she shall wear?"
exclaimed Cora.
Sylvan laughed.
"Why, the King of the Cumberland mines would dictate when you should
rise from your seat and walk across the room; when you should sit down
again; when you should look out of the window, and every movement of
your life, if it were not too much trouble. Good night, Cora."
The brother and sister shook hands and parted for the night, each going
to his or her respective apartment. Early the next morning the little
party met at breakfast. The Iron King looked sullen and defiant, as if
he were challenging the whole world to find any objection to his
remarkable marriage at their peril. Mrs. Stillwater, in a pretty morning
robe of pale blue sarcenet, made very plainly, looked shy, humble, and
deprecating, as if begging from all present a charitable construction of
her motives and actions. Cora Rothsay looked calm and cold in her usual
widow's dress and cap.
Sylvan seemed the only cheerful member of the party, and tried to make
conversation out of such trifles as the bill of fare furnished. All were
relieved when the party separated and went to their rooms to dress for
church. At eleven o'clock they reassembled in the parlor. Mr. Rockharrt
wore a new morning suit. He might have been going down to Wall Street
instead of to his own wedding. Rose Stillwater wore a navy blue,
lusterless silk traveling dress, with hat, veil and gloves to match, all
very plain, but extremely becoming to her fresh complexion and ruddy
hair. Cora wore her widow's dress of lusterless black silk with mantle,
bonnet, veil and gloves to match. Sylvan, like his grandfather, wore a
plain morning suit.
"Well, are you all ready?" demanded old Aaron, looking critically upon
the party.
"All ready, sir," chirped Sylvan for the others.
"Come, then."
And the aged bridegroom drew the arm of his bride-elect within his own
and led the way down stairs and out to the handsome carriage that stood
waiting.
He handed her in, put her on the back seat and placed himself beside
her.
Sylvan helped his sister into the carriage and followed her. They seated
themselves on the front seat opposite the bridal pair.
And the carriage drove off.
"Oh!" suddenly exclaimed old Aaron Rockharrt, rummaging in the breast
pocket of his coat and drawing thence a white envelope and handing it to
Sylvan; "here, take this and give it to the minister as soon as we come
before him."
The young man received the packet and looked inquiringly at the elder.
It was really the marriage fee for the officiating clergyman, and a very
ostentatious one also; but the Iron King did not condescend to explain
anything. He had given it to his grandson with his orders, which he
expected to be implicitly obeyed without question. They reached the
church, the same church in which they had heard the dean preach on the
previous Sunday. They alighted from the carriage and entered the
building, old Aaron Rockharrt leading the way with his bride-elect on
his arm, Sylvan and Cora following. The church was vacant of all except
the minister, who stood in his surplice behind the chancel railing, and
the sexton who had opened the door for the party, and was now walking
before them up the aisle.
The church was empty, because this, though the wedding of a millionaire,
was one of which it might be said that there was "No feast, no cake, no
cards, no nothing."
The party reached the altar railing, bowed silently to the minister, who
nodded gravely in return, and then formed before the altar--the
venerable bridegroom and beautiful bride in the center, Sylvan on the
right of the groom, Cora on the left of the bride. The young man
performed the mission with which he had been intrusted, and then the
ceremony was commenced. It went on smoothly enough until the minister in
its proper place asked the question:
"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"
There was an awful pause.
No one had thought of the necessity of having a "church father" to give
away the bride.
The officiating clergyman saw the dilemma at a glance, and quietly
beckoned the gray-haired sexton to come up and act as a substitute. But
Sylvan Haught, with a twinkle of fun in his eyes, turned his head and
whispered to the new comer:
"'After me is manners of you.'"
Then he took the bride's hand and said mightily:--
"I do."
The marriage ceremony went on to its end and was over. Congratulations
were offered. The register was signed and witnessed.
And old Aaron Rockharrt led his newly married wife out of the church and
put her into the carriage. Then turning around to his grandchildren he
said:
"You can walk back to the hotel. See that the porters send off our
luggage by express to the Cataract House, Niagara Falls. They have their
orders from me, but do you see that these orders are promptly obeyed.
Now, good-by."
He shook hands with Sylvan and Cora, and entered the carriage, which
immediately rolled off in the direction of the railway station.
The brother and sister walked back to the hotel together.
"It will be a curious study, Cora, to see who will rule in this new
firm. I believe it is universally conceded that when an old man marries
a pretty young wife, he becomes her slave. But our honored grandfather
has been absolute monarch so long that I doubt if he can be reduced to
servitude."
"I have no doubts on the subject," replied his sister.
"I have been watching them. He is not subjugated by Rose. He is not
foolishly in love with her, at his age. He likes her as he likes other
agreeable accessories for his own sake. I have neither respect nor
affection for Rose, yet I feel some compassion for her now. Whatever the
drudgery of her life as governess may have been since she left us, long
ago, it has been nothing, nothing to the penal servitude of the life
upon which she has now entered. The hardest-worked governess,
seamstress, or servant has some hours in the twenty-four, and some nook
in the house that she can call her own where she can rest and be quiet.
But Rose Rockharrt will have no such relief! Do I not remember my dear
grandmother's life? And my grandfather really did love her, if he ever
loved any one on earth. This misguided young woman fondly hopes to be
the ideal old man's darling. She deceives herself. She will be his
slave, by day and night seldom out of his sight, never out of his
service and surveillance. Possibly--for she is not a woman of
principle--she may end by running away from her master, and that before
long."
Cora's last words brought them to the "Ladies' Entrance" of their hotel.
"Go up stairs, Cora, and I will step into the office and see if there
are any letters," said Sylvan.
Mrs. Rothsay went up into their private sitting room, dropped into a
chair, took off her bonnet and began to fan herself, for her midday walk
had been a very warm one.
Presently Sylvan came up with a letter in his hand.
"For you, Cora, from Uncle Fabian! There is a foreign mail just in."
"Give it to me."
Sylvan handed her the letter, Cora opened it, glanced over it, and
exclaimed:
"Uncle Fabian says that he will be home the last of this month."