Matilda Free--The Constable Captured--The Thunderstorm--Rawdon
Found--The Lawyer Revives--Inquest--Mr. Pawkins
Again--Expeditions--Greek--Committee of the Whole--Miss Graves and
Mr. Douglas--Weddings--The Colonel, Wilkinson and Perrowne
Off--Arrival of Saul--Errol, Douglas and Coristine
Wedded--Festivities in Hall and Kitchen--Europe--Home--Two
Knapsacks--Envoi.
That was a dreary Monday afternoon inside Bridesdale, in spite of the
beautiful weather without, for the shadow of death fell heavy and black
on every heart. Those who had shared in the morning's merriment felt as
if they had been guilty of sacrilege. Even Mr. Rigby exhibited his share
in the general concern by being more than usually harsh towards his
prisoners. About four o'clock there was an incident that made a little
break in the monotony of waiting for the death warrant. Old Styles
arrived, to say that the crazy woman was no longer crazy. Half an hour
before she sat up in bed and cried "Free at last!" and since then,
though the fever was still on her, her mind was quite clear. Doctor
Halbert took a note of the time, and wondered what the sudden and
beneficial change meant. Mrs. Carmichael and Mr. Errol sympathized with
him, rejoicing for the poor woman's sake. The detective and Ben Toner
came home, very tired and disgusted with their want of success. When
night came, the dominie again offered to stay with his friend, and, in
his anxiety, even forced himself into the sick room. Miss Carmichael was
very pale, but very quiet and resolute. "He is your dear friend, I
know," she said, calmly, "but he belongs to me as he does not to anybody
else in the world. I may not have him long, so please don't grudge me
the comfort of watching." Wilkinson had to go away, more pained at heart
for the sad eyed watcher awaiting the impending blow than for the
unconscious friend on whom it was to fall more mercifully. Mr. Bangs
took charge of the outside guard that night, in which the clergymen had
volunteered to serve. Mr. Rigby took a grey blanket out to the stables,
and lay down near his prisoners, with baton and pistol close at hand.
About eleven o'clock Ben Toner, on guard before the house, saw a female
figure approaching, and challenged. "Squit yer sojer foolins, Ben, and
leave me pass," came from the well known voice of Serlizer. "Is the gals
up in the kitchen?"
"They is," replied Mr. Toner, humbly and laconically; and his ladylove
proceeded thitherward. Miss Newcome looked in upon Tryphena, Tryphosa,
and Timotheus, Mr. Maguffin being asleep, and, after a little
conversation, guessed she'd go and see Ben. She had found out that the
constable had two prisoners in charge, quite incidentally, and listened
to the news as something that did not concern her. Instead of going to
see Ben, however, she visited the stables. The corporal was evidently
tired of lying in front of his captives, and probably proposed to
himself an improving game of geography over a mug of cider in the
kitchen, for he had risen and unlocked the door. Serlizer stood by it
with a stout handkerchief in her hand, in the middle of which was
knotted a somewhat soft and unsavoury potato. As Mr. Rigby slipped out,
after a glance at his shackled charges, that potato went across his
month, and was fastened in its place by the handkerchief, firmly, though
quickly, knotted at the back of his neck. The terror of Russians and
Sepoys struggled for liberty, but he was a child in the arms of the
encampment cook. Halters, ropes, and chains of many kinds were hanging
up, and with some of these the Amazon secured her prisoner in a stall.
Then she searched him, retaliating upon the constable the indignities he
had practised on his former victims. Handcuff and padlock keys were
found in his pockets, and with these she silently freed her venerable
father, who, in his turn, delivered young Rawdon from his bonds. "Now,
you two," said the rescuer, quietly, "go round the end of the stables,
cross the road into the bush beyont, and leg out fast as ye can. I'm
a-goin' ter foller, and, ef I see ye take a step 'campment way, I'll
have ye both hung, sure pop." Mr. Newcome gave the prostrate constable
two parting kicks in the ribs, and obeyed orders, while his affectionate
daughter followed, until she saw the fugitives safely on the homeward
road. Then she strayed back to the kitchen, and guessed, seeing Ben was
all safe, she'd go home, as the night was fine. She put in half an
hour's irrelevant talk with Mr. Toner after this, and, thereafter, left
him, suggesting, as she departed, that, when his watch was over, he
might look into the stables, where the horses seemed to be restless.
Simple-hearted Ben informed Mr. Bangs that he had heard noises in the
stables, which was not true. Proceeding thither with a lantern he found
only one prisoner, who, on examination, proved to be the constable. He
had attacked the unsavoury potato with his teeth as far as the tightness
of his gag allowed, and was now able to make an audible groan, which
sounded slushy through the moist vegetable medium. When released, he was
speechless with indignation, disappointment, and shame. Ben flashed the
lantern on the handkerchief, and recognized it as the property of a
young woman of his acquaintance, whereupon he registered an inward vow
to throw off a Newcome and take on a Sullivan. Bridget was better
looking than Serlizer anyway, and wasn't so powerful headstrong like.
Mr. Bangs came to see the disconsolate corporal, and Mr. Terry sought in
vain to comfort him. The detective was not sorry, save for the
possibility of the fugitives effecting a junction with Rawdon, who would
thus be at the head of a gang again. Otherwise, Newcome was not at all
likely to leave the country, and could be had any time, if wanted. As
for the unhappy lad, he had suffered enough, and if there were any
chance of his amending his company, Mr. Bangs was not the man to put
stumbling blocks in his way. But the demented constable, having
recovered his baton, began searching. He explored the stables, the
lofts, the coach-house, the sheds, examined every manger, and thrust a
pitchfork into every truss of hay and heap of straw. He came outside and
scrutinized the angle of every fence, poked every bush, peered under
verandahs, and, according to the untruthful and unsympathetic Timotheus,
rammed twigs down woodchucks' holes for fear the jail breakers had taken
refuge in the bowels of the earth. Ben and Maguffin brought him in by
force, lest in his despair he should do himself an injury, and sat him
down in an easy chair with the wished-for cider mug before him. He had
sense enough left to attach himself to the mug, and draw comfort from
its depths. Then he murmured: "Thomas Rigby, eighteen years in service,
promoted corporal for valour before the enemy, Crimean and Indian medals
and clasps, captured by a female young woman, bound and imprisoned by
the same, Attention! no, as you were!" Addressing Mr. Terry he
continued: "Sergeant Major, that woman, unless I find her, will bring my
grey hairs with sorrow to the grave."
"Come, come, now, corporal dear! shure it isn't the firsht toime a foine
lukin' owld sowljer has been captivated boy the ladies. Honoria's
blissed mother, rist her sowl in heaven, tuk me prishner wid a luk av
her broight black eyes, an', iv she wor livin', she cud do it agin."
With the morning came a thunderstorm, altogether unexpected, for
Monday's north-western breeze had promised fine and cooler weather. But
the south wind had conquered for a time, and now the two blasts were
contending in the clouds above and on the waters of the distant great
lake below. The rain fell in torrents, like hail upon the shingled roof;
the blue-forked lightning flashed viciously, followed instantaneously by
peals of thunder that rattled every casement, and made the dishes dance
on the breakfast table. The doctor had been with his patient; and as the
clergymen were about to conduct family worship, he whispered to them
that the soul might slip away during the terrors of the storm, as he had
often seen before. It was a very solemn and awful time. In vain Mrs.
Carmichael, aided by the other ladies, sought to make her daughter rest
or even partake of food. How could she? The storm outside was nothing to
that which raged in her own breast, calm as was her outward demeanour.
Marjorie crouched on the mat outside the bed-room door, and quietly
sobbed herself to sleep amid the crash of the elements. But, when
another sad dinner was over, the colonel and Mr. Terry bethought them of
asking the detective if he knew of the inner lake on the shore of which
Tillycot stood. He did not, but saw the importance of searching there.
As the last of the rain had ceased, he proposed to explore it, but told
the Squire, with whom he communicated, that the skiff his informants had
mentioned was not at the place where first found, or anywhere on that
lake. Therefore Mr. Perrowne and Mr. Douglas proposed to go with Ben
Toner to get the Richards' scow, and meet Mr. Bangs with the colonel and
Mr. Terry at the encampment. The two parties armed and drove away. One
of the Richards boys, namely Bill, joined the three watermen, and
together they propelled the punt to the extent of a punt's travelling
capacity; but it was between four and five when the explorers of
Tillycot, leaving Ben, Timotheus and Richards on the shore, entered with
difficulty through the veiled channel, into the beautiful hidden lake.
They saw the skiff on the shore near the house, and soon perceived the
numerous blood stains in it. They ran up the bank, entered the chalet,
and, at last, in the library, beheld him whom they sought, extended upon
the floor. He had died by his own hand, his fingers being still upon the
pistol whose bullet had pierced his brain. Mr. Bangs seized a scrap of
writing lying on the table, which ran thus:--
"Curse you, Tilly, for leaving me to die like a rat in a hole. I have
stood the pains of hell for thirty-eight hours, and can't stand them any
longer. They shan't take me alive. Box and that hound Carruthers' papers
are covered with brush and leaves under the last birch in the bush,
where I finished that meddlesome fool of a lawyer. You know why you
ought to give a lot to Regy's boy. It's all over. Curse the lot of you.
Here goes, but mind you kill that damnable Squire, or I'll come when I'm
dead and torture the life out of you."
No compassion could follow the reading of this document. There was
nothing of legal importance in the chalet, so Mr. Bangs, aided by Mr.
Terry and Mr. Douglas, carried the dead man to the punt, and the party
in it and in the skiff returned to the Encampment lake. Richards, Ben
Toner, and Timotheus carried the body up the hill to the waggon on the
masked road. Then they returned to the scow, while Mr. Bangs drove to
the post office annex, with the colonel and Mr. Terry, Mr. Perrowne and
Mr. Douglas. Ben Toner and Timotheus arrived in the other waggon, soon
after the ghastly burden had been deposited in the unfinished hall, and
were left in charge, while the others went home to inform the Squire and
the doctor. Having done this, the detective took the former to the
little wood, and, after a little searching, found the concealed box,
which held the incriminating papers as well as the original treasure.
But for Coristine's fatal shot, these would have been carried away. On
their return, Doctor Halbert said, after consulting Mr. Bang's paper:
"He took his life the very hour Matilda exclaimed 'Free at last.' The
neighbourhood and the whole country may breathe more freely now that he
is gone. Your poor friend upstairs, John, has not died in vain."
"But he's not dead, Halbert!" almost sobbed the Squire.
"Not yet," replied the doctor, gravely.
Coristine had survived the thunderstorm and the finding of Rawdon's
remains; and, now that all sympathy in the latter was forfeited, many a
one would gladly have gone to the sinking man who fired the shot to tell
him, in his own vernacular, that Grinstuns had ceased from troubling.
But few dared intrude upon the stillness of his chamber, from the door
of which Marjorie had to be carried bodily away. The villain dead, the
treasure and papers recovered, Matilda Nagle in her right mind,
confidence was restored in Bridesdale, and only one absorbing thought
filled all minds. Yet, while the colonel shared his cigar case with Mr.
Douglas, and Mr. Terry smoked his dudeen, Mr. Bangs wrote to Toronto an
account of the escaped prisoner's death, Miss Du Plessis resigned her
type writership to Messrs. Tylor, Woodruff, and White, Mr. Wilkinson
sent in to the Board of School Trustees his resignation of the
Sacheverell Street School, and the Squire, on behalf of his niece,
signified that her position in the same was vacant, and informed the
legal firm of the serious illness of their junior partner. The clergymen
returned to their lodgings and their duties, and the constable, having
no living criminal to watch over, relieved Timotheus and Ben Toner of
their care of the dead. Maguffin had summoned Messrs. Newberry, Pawkins,
and Johnson for the coroner's jury in the morning, and no excitement was
left at Bridesdale. When night came, all retired to rest, except the one
watcher by the bedside of despair. Early in the morning, when the sun
began to shine upon the night dews and peep through the casements, a tap
came to the dominie's door. He was awake, he had not even undressed,
and, therefore, answered it at once. He knew the pale figure in the
dressing gown. "Put on your pedestrian suit," she said with eagerness,
"and bring your knapsack with you as quickly as possible." He put it on,
although the arms of coat and shirt were ripped up for former surgical
reasons, and he objected to the blood marks on the sleeves. Then he took
up his knapsack, and went hastily to the sick room. His friend was lying
on his side, and looking very deathly, but he was speaking, and a wan
smile flitted over his lips. "Two knapsacks," he murmured, and, "Dear
old Wilks," and, "rum start." Miss Carmichael said: "Put yours here on
the table above his, where he can see them," and he obeyed. "Now, stand
beside them, and say 'Corry,' gently." The dominie could hardly do it
for a queer choking in his throat, but at last he succeeded in
pronouncing the abbreviation in an interrogative tone. "Wilks," wheezed
the sick man, "O Wilks, she called them pads!" and his eyes rested on
the knapsacks. "Stay with him," the nurse whispered, "while I call
Fanny." Soon Miss Halbert came, and, walking boldly but quietly up to
the bedside, asked: "Who are you calling she, you naughty boy that want
to leave us all?" With an effort, he answered: "I beg your pardon, Miss
Halbert, but you know you did call them pads." "Well, so they are, you
poor dear," she replied, bending over and kissing the white forehead,
for which it is to be hoped Mr. Perrowne absolved her; "but you must
stay here, for see, I have brought Marjorie to nurse you till you are
fit to carry a knapsack again." Then Miss Carmichael came forward, and
the patient became ceremoniously polite in a wheezing way, and was
ashamed of himself to be ill and give so much trouble; but he allowed
himself to be shaken up and receive his strengthening mixtures, and
behaved like a very feeble rational man with a little, but real, hold on
life. That was the turning point in the lawyer's career; and, when the
doctor descended from seeing him later in the morning, he announced that
the crisis was past, and that, with proper care, the Squire's
prospective nephew would live. Joy reigned once more in Bridesdale, from
Mr. Terry to Marjorie, and from the stately Mrs. Du Plessis to Maguffin
in the kitchen.
The only thing to mar the pleasure of that day was the inquest, and even
that brought an agreeable surprise. When Matilda Nagle was called, she
refused to acknowledge the name, insisting that she was Matilda Rawdon,
and producing from her pocket a much crumpled marriage certificate,
bearing the signature of a well-known clergyman who had exercised his
sacred office in a town within thirty miles of Toronto. This she had
taken from the library on the occasion of her last visit to Tillycot.
Old Mr. Newberry's face beamed with delight, and that of Mr. Bangs was a
curious study, revealing a mind which had joyfully come to a decision it
had been struggling after in the face of serious difficulties. When the
verdict of suicide was given, the jury dismissed, and he prepared, along
with the constable, to deliver over the body of the escaped prisoner
into the gaoler's hands, he bade Mrs. Rawdon an almost affectionate
goodbye, and made touching enquiries after the welfare of her son Monty.
As an honourable woman, she was received, in spite of her late husband's
character, and her own unconscious crimes, into the Bridesdale circle,
which, however, she soon left in the company of her benevolent host. The
Squire informed her that he had a large sum of money in keeping for her
and her son, and that Miss Du Plessis would either send her all the
furniture of Tillycot, when she was prepared to receive it, or take it
from her at an equitable valuation, to either alternative of which she
strongly objectd. Before Mr. Rigby finished his midday meal, without
which it was impossible that he, at his age, could travel, Mr. Pawkins
twisted the British lion's tail several times, to which the corporal
replied sadly: "Had I still been in the British army, sir, I should have
been degraded for losing prisoners committed to my guard, but any man
who allows himself to speak as you do, sir, of what you are too ignorant
to judge of, is degraded already." The cautious Yankee was equally
unsuccessful with Ben, who met him with: "Don't give me no more lip
about Serlizer and old man Newcome, but jist you tell 'em I've waushed
the bilin' of 'em clear off'n my hands fer a gayul as Serlizer ain't a
patch on." Then Mr. Pawkins amused himself asking Tryphosa if it was
Maguffin or Timotheus was her young man, giving as his private opinion
that the nigger was the smarter man of the two. When Tryphena playfully
ordered him out of the house, he expressed intense sorrow for Sylvanus'
future, but was glad to hear he was getting a present rest, paddling his
mud barge round the Simcoe pond. Mr. Pawkins was offensively personal,
but kept the table lively, and parted with them, regretting that, having
left his catechism at home, he was unable to favour his dear children
with a little much-needed religious instruction. The door was slammed
behind him, and Mr. Rigby remarked with animation: "Very properly done,
Miss Hill, a very timely rebuke of unpardonable American insolence!"
When evening came, the Squire and Mrs. Carmichael mastered courage, and
took Coristine's pale-faced nurse away from him with gentle force, the
mother taking the daughter's place for a time. After this, Miss
Carmichael was allowed no night duty, Wilkinson and the Squire, the
clergymen, Mr. Terry, and Mr. Douglas attending to it in turns, while
all the ladies, in the same way, relieved her during part of each day.
Very slowly, but silently and patiently, the invalid regained his lost
strength. He was grateful, sometimes with a few words of thanks, but
oftener mutely, with a deprecating look, to all who ministered to his
comfort. One day Marjorie was allowed in, and, among other wise remarks,
informed her Eugene that "cousin Marjorie wasn't you know what any
more." "My little love," he answered, "she's an angel, and always was";
Marjorie was not at all sure of this, but did not like to cross a sick
man. During his progress towards health, there were walks and drives,
picnics to Tillycot and the Beaver River, expeditions to town, fishing
expeditions with Mr. Bigglethorpe, for whom the lawyer had brought a
bundle of new flies, which in his anxious state of mind he had forgotten
to deliver, and a four days' trip on the _Susan Thomas_, which pleased
Miss Graves and Mr. Douglas immensely. Only two days were actually spent
on the water, but, as Tryphena was there in the capacity of cook, and a
coloured lady of Maguffin's acquaintance was temporarily engaged for
Mrs. Du Plessis, the crew and the manservant were in the seventh heaven
of delight. Marjorie, of course, was present, and shared the command of
the schooner with her father. She also attached herself a good deal to
Jim, and, although resenting the attentions he bestowed upon the big
girl, carefully abstained from porcine epithets, a result of Eugene's
epistolary instructions. The great Mr. Tylor came up to Bridesdale in
person to see his junior, and was duly informed of the engagement
between him and the heiress, Miss Carmichael, "Ah, Coristine, my dear
fellow, we shall be losing you for the law, now, and, the first thing we
know, you will be in Parliament. If not, I may say White is going out of
the firm, and Woodruff and I had resolved on Tylor, Woodruff and
Coristine for the new style. Your servant, Miss Carmichael! I
congratulate my friend and partner on a friend and prospective partner,
in life as well as law, so infinitely superior, and I trust you will
allow an oldish man to congratulate you on being won by as fine a young
fellow as ever lived." When the good Q.C. left the room, the patient
remarked: "Everybody shows me so much kindness, now, Marjorie, when I
have all I want in yours."
"Is it kindness, Eugene, only kindness?"
"No, no, it is love, Marjorie, isn't it, undying love? Would you think
me very foolish if I were to go back for once to Wilks' and my habit of
reciting all sorts of poetry?"
"I could not stand all sorts, Eugene. There are some that Marjorie
quotes which are simply awful. She says she gets them from Guff."
"Oh, this isn't that kind. It is Greek, Modern Greek:--
Ô Erôt' anthêrotate,
Glyke kai hilarôtate,
Tou kosmou kybernêtê.
Esen ho nous, to sôma mou,
To stêthos, kai to stoma mou,
Latreuei kai kêryttei."
"That is very pretty, Eugene, for love in a general kind of way--love in
the aibstrac', as the metaphysical Scotch girl said."
"What! Marjorie, you know Greek!"
"Yes; my father taught me to read the Greek Testament, and I have read
some of it with Mr. Errol."
"Oh, you are a treasure! But I mean your love, and my mind and body,
heart and voice."
"That will do, you silly boy. Now lie down, and do not excite yourself
any more." But she said in her heart that she did not believe Mr.
Wilkinson could quote Greek, and, if he did, Cecile, she was sure, could
not understand him.
One evening, by general agreement, a committee of the whole sat in the
office, the Squire in the chair. The chairman jocularly asked the
colonel, as the senior of the meeting, his intentions. "My intentions,
Misteh Chaihman, or ratheh ouah intentions, those of my deah Tehesa and
me, are to be mahhied heah, if you will pehmit, by Misteh Pehhowne, whom
we also wish to unite in holy matymony ouah daughteh Cecile to ouah deah
boy Fahquhah. Also, with yoah pehmission, we will place Timotheus and
Tryphosa, when mahhied, in chahge of Tillycot and Cecile's fahm heah;
and will then jouhney westwahd to the Mississippi, and so southwahd, to
show ouah deah childyen theih futuhe inhehitance, and save Misteh
Wilkinson's ahm the rigouhs of yoah Canadian winteh. That is all, Misteh
Chaihman, three weddings, a meeah tyifle, suh." The colonel laughed,
took a little imaginary Bourbon, and whiffed his cigar, while Mrs. Du
Plessis, her daughter, and the dominie blushed, but also smiled, to
think that explanations had been frankly made and the coast was clear.
"I suppose," said the Squire, "it will be my turn next to explain for
self and freens. The doctor says my nephew that's to be maun tak' a sea
voyage for the guid o's health, and Marjorie, wha sud be here by richts
to speak for hersel', is gaun tae kill twa birds wi' ane stane, tak care
o' her husband, and spier aifter her graun' fortune. But the meenister's
wantin' tae take her mither wi' him; sae the gudewife and me, we're
thinkin' o' sendin' aa the weans tae Susan at Dromore, and makin' a
pairty o't. We canna leave Bridesdale unproteckit, that means Sylvanus
and Tryphena 'll be pit in chairge till we're back, and they gang to
Sylvanus' ain fairm. Ony mair intentions?" Mr. Perrowne sought the
chairman's eye, and addressed him. "Mr. Chairman, unaccustomed as I am
to public speaking (derisive cheers), and unwilling as we are to obtrude
our private affairs upon what Virgil calls the _ignobile vulgus_ (hisses
from Messrs. Errol and Bangs and the doctor), nevertheless, on this
festive occasion, we owvercome our natural modesty and spirit of
self-effacement (more derision) sow far as to remark that Cubbyholes (a
dig from Miss Halbert) will be ready for our occupation in the second
week of September, about which time the Bishop will make a visitation,
including the office of howly matrimony. Meanwhile the bride elect will
look forward with pleasant expectation to those precious tyings of the
nuptial knot, which will enrich her housekeeping account with liberal
marriage fees." Here the parson was compelled to stop, since one of the
indignant Miss Fanny's hands was over his mouth, and the other actively
engaged in boxing his mercenary ears. "Ony mair intentions?" cried the
Squire again, warming to his work. "Pahdon me, Misteh Chaihman, foh
rising a second time, but I am given to undehstand by Madame Du Plessis
that Maguffin, who accompanies us, has matyimonial intentions towahds
her new maid, Sophronia Ann Trelawny Tolliveh; that is all, suh." "I see
Maister Bangs has a word for the chair," said the Squire, when the
colonel ended. The detective, for the first time in his life, looked
uneasy. "I ownly wented to sey, Mr. Chairman, thet, within a year, when
you are all beck frem yore visit, Mrs. Metilda Rawdon hes premised to
bekem Mrs. Bengs. I may also edd thet, frem kenversation with Ben
Towner, I hev learned thet the priest is soon to selemnize his union
with Miss Bridget Sellivan." The company was aghast, and cried out as
one man, "What is to become of Serlizer?" Mr. Bangs responded: "The
yeng weman, Sarah Eliza Newcome, wes the person who rebbed kenstable
Rigby of his prisoners. When he kem to know the fect, he conceived sow
high a degree of respect fer her kerrage end skill, thet he et wence
propowsed to her, end hes been eccepted. Mr. Perrowne hes been esked, I
believe, to merry them; is it net sow, Mr. Perrowne?"
"Yes, the corporal bespowke me, as he said; but that wretched Maguffin
insists on being married by the Baktis. I'm ashamed of you, colonel,
allowing so unhallowed a marriage tie in your household."
"I leave religion, Misteh Pehhowne, to evehy man's conscience." The
meeting then adjourned.
Two young people had been sitting on the verandah while the matrimonial
congress was going on, and were much amused by what they occasionally
heard of the proceedings. Next morning, Marjorie carried off one of this
pair by the name of Jim to look for crawfish and shiners in the creek.
Under her able tuition, Mr. Douglas was making rapid progress in
Canadian slang, and treasured in his memory many choice extracts from
the words of supposed coloured poets, contributed originally by Guff.
The scraps of doleful ballads, taken from the stores of the Pilgrim
brothers, Marjorie objected that he did not seem to take stock in. While
up to the bared elbows in the crawfishery, the twain heard voices, those
of Miss Graves and Mr. Terry, but they kept on turning over stones and
shouting all the same. Marjorie had never had the veteran really
interested in that creek, so she ran to secure him, while her friend
pulled down his sleeves and went to meet the lady. It was a pretty
place, the bank of that creek, an ideal spot for a morning stroll, and
they were soon out of earshot of the fishers. Mr. Douglas remarked, in
allusion to the previous night's committee of the whole, that Bridesdale
was going to be Bridesdale indeed, and would soon be no place for single
people, like himself and his companion. "But I suppose we will both be
gone before then," she answered. "I should have been back a week ago,
had not Mr. Tylor kindly lengthened my holiday. It is hard to have to
leave this place."
"Very," replied Mr. Douglas, "and harder to leave the people. I haven't
known you very long Miss Graves."
"No, only a few weeks, but very pleasant weeks."
"They have been so to me, and the more I see of you, the more I dislike
going away."
"Yes, the people gathered here are delightful, almost a unique party."
"I did not mean the people in general. I meant Miss Graves. I hope that
blunt speech doesn't offend you."
"Not at all. It is blunt, as you say, but complimentary."
"I don't want to make compliments, Miss Graves, until I have the right.
I want you to come home with me to Edinburgh as my wife."
"This is very sudden and very kind, Mr. Douglas. What do you know of me,
a poor girl working for my living?"
"I know more than you think, and honour you for your work and
independent spirit. I am not going to say I want to take you away from
drudgery, and put you in a better position, because I want you to take
me for myself, if I am worth taking, as a man."
Miss Graves looked upon his manly honest face with eyes as honest, yet
with the merest shade of coquetry in them, and said: "You are worth
taking as a man."
"Then, take me, Marion, and all I have."
"You are not a bit like my picture of a Scotch wooer. You give a poor
girl no chance to hold you back."
"But I don't want to be held back. Shall we report ourselves to the
matrimonial congress?"
"Oh no, not yet, Mr. Douglas; you take wonderful liberties with a new
acquaintance."
Some distance off, Mr. Terry was trying to still the voice of Marjorie.
"I saw him, granpa, I saw Jim with my very own eyes. Oh, these men will
break my heart!"
The first parties to perpetrate matrimony were Ben Toner and Biddy
Sullivan. Mr. Toner, to use his own expressive language, was afraid
Serlizer might round on him if he delayed. Therefore, Father McNaughton
was called in, and, with the aid of Rufus Hill and Barney Sullivan,
groomsmen, Norah Sullivan and Christie Hislop, bridesmaids, and the
Bigglethorpes and Lajeunesses, spectators, the knot was tied. A
honeymoon trip of two days to Toronto, where, in their new clothes and
white cotton gloves, they were the admired of all beholders, rounded off
the affair, and delivered Ben from all fear of the redoubtable Serlizer.
Next Sunday morning there was a great commotion in the Church of St.
Cuthbert's in the Fields. Miss Newcome, gorgeous of attire, supported by
Tryphena in her very best, first marched proudly up the aisle, and then
came the corporal, in full uniform, even to his stock, and adorned with
medals and clasps which told of his warlike achievements, backed by Mr.
Terry in an unostentatious suit of black broadcloth. Shortly before the
close of the service, Mr. Perrowne, in his most ecclesiastical manner,
called the parties up, and put them through their catechism. The
corporal answered with military precision and dignity, and Serlizer,
glancing at his martial magnificence, was so proud of the bridegroom
that she felt equal to answering a bench of bishops. Mrs. Newcome, who
had given her daughter away, remarked, as all the bridal party retired
from the vestry to receive their friends' congratulations, that the
constable, for a widower, was a very proper man, and Serlizer might have
done much worse. To his best man, Mr. Terry, the corporal said:
"Sergeant-major, I have got my guard. A prisoner may slip from me,
Sergeant-major, but when that strapping woman puts her arms round him,
he'll be as helpless as a child. I shall apply to the Council for an
increase of pay." Soon afterwards, Maguffin got a holiday, went to
Dromore, where Miss Tolliver was sojourning with Mrs. Thomas, took that
lady to Collingwood, the coloured Baptist preacher of which united them,
and came home triumphantly in the stage with his bride. They received a
great ovation in the kitchen, and, Mr. Terry having joined the party,
played the geographical game till midnight, as a sober, improving, and
semi-religious way of celebrating the event. Mr. Maguffin remarked that
the Baktis preacher had promised, out of the two-dollar fee, to insert a
notice of the marriage in a leading paper, adding the words, "No Cards,"
but, said Tobias, "he warn't nebber moah leff in all hees life, 'kase
here's the keerds and heaps on 'em. Yah! yah! yah!"
The colonel was getting anxious to start for the Mississippi, and
begged his deceased wife's sister to confer with her daughter, and name
the day. The dominie was also consulted, and, seeing it was vain to hope
for his friend's restoration to the extent of performing groomsman's
duty, he acquiesced in whatever decision should be reached. Mr. Douglas
took Coristine's place, and Miss Graves that of Miss Carmichael, and,
for both of them, the Edinburgh lawyer ordered from the city handsome
wedding presents to bestow upon the two couples, a little proof of
generosity gratifying to the lady whom he now regularly called Marion.
The said Marion had definitely resigned her situation with Messrs.
Tylor, Woodruff, and White. On Thursday morning, St. Cuthbert's in the
Fields was a scene of wonder to the assembled rustics, with flowers and
favours and lighted candles. Miss Du Plessis, stately and lace bedight,
was led in by her uncle, and followed by Miss Graves and Marjorie, while
Wilkinson, in elegant morning dress, preceded Mr. Douglas and Mr. Bangs.
The colonel, with much emotion, gave his niece away, and Mr. Perrowne
made them one. Then came Mrs. Du Plessis, arm in arm with her former
husband's faithful servant, Mr. Terry, and behind her followed Miss
Halbert, training for her own approaching celebration. Mr. Errol was the
colonel's right hand man. The second couple was united, and, amid the
strains of the wedding march on the parlour organ, there went on
salutes, congratulations, and hysterical little weepings, until the
serious business of affixing signatures in the vestry called the
contracting and witnessing parties to order. Then they retired to
Bridesdale, where there was a wedding breakfast, at which Mr. Perrowne,
elated with liberal fees, was the soul of jocularity, and Mr. Douglas
let the cat out of the bag as to his relations with Miss Graves. Mr.
Bangs sang "He's a jolly good fellow" to every toast indiscriminately.
The Squire was felicitous in his presidential remarks; but Mr. Terry
broke down at the thought of parting with Madame and with Miss Ceshile
that was. Mr. Errol made a good common-sense speech, and alluded
roguishly to the colonel's setting a good example that even ministers
were not too good to follow. Marjorie, in the dignity of a bridesmaid,
slipped away to bring Cousin Marjorie down, and was accompanied by the
new brides, who hugged Miss Carmichael, and implanted motherly and
sisterly kisses on the cheek of the only man who was left out of the
festivities. Lastly, Wilkinson appeared on the scene with the colonel,
and took a most affectionate leave of his friend. "You will not forget
me, Corry?" said the late dominie. "Never, Wilks, never, nor you me I
hope. I'll tell you, let us each carry away our knapsacks, and, when we
look at them, think of each other, and the happy chance that brought us
here together." The Squire's voice rung out: "Come, come, good people,
pack up quick, for the carriage is at the door." The valises were got
down by Timotheus, who received large tips. The two ladies and Wilkinson
got in with the Squire, and the new Mrs. Maguffin occupied the hind
seat, while the colonel and his servant rode away amid much throwing of
old shoes and rice, and waving of handkerchiefs, to make steamboat
connections at Collingwood. The departure of so large a company left
quite a blank at Bridesdale.
The Bishop, a gentlemanly cleric in orthodox hat and gaiters, arrived on
Saturday with his examining chaplain. Mr. Perrowne conducted them to Dr.
Halbert's, where the Squire, Mr. Douglas and Mr. Errol, with the ladies,
were invited to meet them. The Bishop turned out to be much more liberal
and evangelical in his views than the clergyman under visitation. On
Sunday, there was a confirmation service, and, on the following Monday,
St. Cuthbert's put on its festal robes once more. Mr. Douglas and Mr.
Errol stood by Mr. Perrowne, and Miss Graves and Miss Carmichael by Miss
Fanny, whom the doctor gave away in person. The Bishop did his duty
well, and afterwards honoured the wedding breakfast with his presence.
The sight of his diocesan kept Mr. Perrowne in order, and devolved the
jocularity on the Squire and the doctor. Mr. Terry was at home with
Coristine, describing the ceremony; and somebody at the Halbert's
hospitable table was longing for a chance to replace him. This, however,
she could not effect without its being noticed. The examining chaplain
fell foul of Mr. Errol by remarking that, when Scotch Presbyterians came
into the church, they generally did well, both in England and in Canada,
several of them having risen to the episcopate. "That minds me,"
answered the minister, intentionally putting on his broad Scotch, "that
minds me o' Jockey Strachan, that was Bishop o' Toronto. He met a Kirk
man aince, frae Markham, I'm thinkin', that had a threadbare coat.
'Man,' said he till's auld freend, 'yon's a shockin' worn-out coat. Can
yer freens i' the Kirk no dae better than that by ye?' 'Toot, toot,
Jockey,' said the Kirk man, 'what ails ye at the coat? It's no turned
yet.'" The sensible Bishop saw that the chaplain, who was preparing to
reply, would probably put his foot farther in, and turned the
conversation into other channels. Then the wedding presents were
re-examined, the bride donned her travelling costume, and, amid
affectionate leave takings, the doctor drove off his daughter and
son-in-law, with the clerics, toward the distant railway station, en
route for Ottawa, Montreal and Lake George. The Bridesdale party went
home, and, while Mrs. Carmichael and Miss Graves were attended by their
respective cavaliers, Miss Carmichael flew to the bedside where Mr.
Terry kept cheerful guard.
Everything hinged now upon the sick man's health. "He must be got away,
John, before the winter comes," the doctor had said to the Squire, and
all wrought with this end in view. Some time before Maguffin left, he
had determined, with his Marjorie's permission, to give up being shaved
and let his beard grow, and now the beard was there, long, brown and
silky, a very respectable beard. But the face above it was very pale
yet, and the cruel knife wounds were still sore, and the whole man
enfeebled in limb by long bed-keeping. One pleasant day, far on in
September, the doctor allowed him to rise, and, between the Squire and
Mr. Terry, he was raised up and dressed. Then they carried the wasted
form out into the autumn sun, and laid him on a couch on the verandah.
Marjorie and all the little Carruthers came to see him, with bouquets of
garden flowers. Timotheus ventured to pay his respects, and even
Tryphena came round to congratulate him on his recovery. "Shall I read
Wordsworth to you, dear?" asked Miss Carmichael, ironically.
"Marjorie," answered a beard-muffled voice, "your single word's worth
more than all in that old duffer's poems," which the lady took as an
indication that her patient was improving.
"They are all depending on us to fix the day, Eugene; when will you be
strong enough?"
"Any time, Marjorie; what's to-day?"
"Saturday, you foolish man, don't you smell the preparations for
Sunday?"
"And the New York steamer sails on Saturday?"
"Yes."
"Well, if we are all married next Wednesday, we shall have time to get
to New York easily on Saturday morning."
"Then I will get uncle to arrange with papa Errol, and to summon the
Captain and auntie and Sylvanus."
"Oh yes, and Bigglethorpe and Bangs, and old Mrs. Hill. I would like to
have Ben here, too, if you wouldn't mind, Marjorie."
"We shall have everybody, and leave here on Thursday morning, to get you
well on the sea."
Mr. Terry came to ask if Mr. Coristine didn't think the least draw of a
pipe would do him good. The invalid thought it would, and, while the
veteran went upstairs to fetch the lawyer's long-unused briar, Miss
Carmichael left him, ostensibly offended that he preferred a pipe to her
society, yet inwardly glad that he was strong enough to relish tobacco
again. Mr. Douglas joined the smokers, and they had a very jolly time.
"What will you do, Mr. Terry, when we are all gone!" asked the Edinburgh
lawyer. "It 'ull be gone too Oi will mysilf by that toime," replied the
veteran.
"I mean, when we are on the Atlantic."
"Plaze God, Oi'll be an the Atlantic mysilf."
"What, are you coming with us?"
"Av coorse! D'ye think the departmint cud ha done so long wit'out me iv
Oi hadn't shint in my risignaation?"
"Then you are really going across for a holiday?"
"Oi'm goin' to lit Honoria git a shmill av the Oirish cloimate, an' a
peep at the ould shod, fwhere her anshisters is slapin' it's many a long
year."
"What a glorious time we're going to have!"
"Troth for you, sor, an' we'll sit this bhoy on his pins agin."
Many letters were despatched that afternoon, and Timotheus was kept
busy, inviting parties whom the post was slow in reaching. On Sunday,
there being no service at St. Cuthbert's in the Fields, the Kirk was
crowded, and Mr. Errol announced a service of special interest on
Wednesday morning at 11 o'clock, when his co-presbyter, the Rev. Dr.
MacPhun, would officiate. His own text was "It is not good that the man
should be alone," and towards the close of the service he stated that
the Presbytery had given him leave of absence for three months, which he
intended to spend in Britain, during which time his people would have an
opportunity of hearing many profitable preachers, under Dr. MacPhun's
moderatorship _pro tem_. Monday was a day of trunk packing and other
preparations, connected with all sorts of boxes and parcels brought by
the stage during the previous week. The next day the guests arrived. Dr.
Halbert came first, excusing his early appearance by saying he felt
lonely, and wanted to see young faces again. Then the Captain drove up
in grand style, having on board Mrs. Thomas, her domestic, Malvina
McGlashan, Sylvanus, and his strict parent, Saul. Malvina was received
by the maids with great effusion, while the paternal Pilgrim eyed
Timotheus, who had come forward to shake hands with his father. "What is
the chief end of man, Timotheus?" The son answered correctly. "What is
sin?" was appropriately solved, and "What is the reason annexed to the
fifth commandment?" Then came, "What is repentance unto life," and on
the answer to this Mr. Pilgrim preached a brief homily. "With grief and
hatred of his sin, turns from it, with full purpose of, and endeavour
after, new obedience. Is that you, Timotheus?" "Yes, fayther."
"Young women," said Saul, addressing the maids, "has the walk and
conversation of Timotheus been according to his lights, or according to
his whilom lammentable and ungodly profession?"
Tryphena could not reply, for the audacious Sylvanus, unaffected by the
propinquity of his venerable relative, had whispered in her ear, "he's a
livyer' 'cordin' to his lights, he is;" but Tryphosa spoke up and said
that nobody, not even a minister, could have behaved better than
Timotheus. Then Saul shook hands with his repentant son, solemnly, and
producing a well-worn catechism from his tail pocket, placed it with
reverence in the shaken hand. Looking upon Tryphosa, he remarked:
"Remember, Timotheus, the words of wisdom, 'Favour is deceitful and
beauty is vain, but whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing.' Go thou
and do likewise, Amen." Further improvement of the occasion was checked
by the arrival of a well-laden waggon, driven by Rufus, and containing
his parents, Christie Hislop, Mr. Bigglethorpe and Ben. Mr. Bigglethorpe
was hailed with delight by Marjorie, who immediately carried off "dear
Mr. Biggles" to see the creek, and tell her about his little boy, who
was not yet christened, because, in the face of Marjorie's opposition,
he could not call him Walton, Cotton or Piscator, and he could not think
of any other name. She had objected to Felix as too catty like, and
Isadore she had said was as bad as Is-a-window. However, he enjoyed the
creek for a few minutes before dinner. Mrs. Hill was installed as the
mother of the kitchen. With her great conversational powers and large
knowledge of scripture, she rather overawed father Pilgrim, and her own
and her husband's abundant cheerfulness revived a company, ready to
droop under the austerities of Saul's genuine but unpleasant religion.
Ben, as a sedate married man, gave himself largely to Mr. Hill's
society, until Mr. Terry came in to see his friend from the north, and
unfold his plans of an Irish tour. Later in the day Mr. Bangs rode over,
and made excuses for Matilda, who thought it wrong to go into society so
soon after her husband's death. Finally, the constable appeared in full
regimentals, with the stalwart Mrs. Rigby on his arm. That lady bestowed
on the faithless Ben a glance of withering contempt, but the constable
shook hands with him, as if he had been his greatest earthly benefactor.
It would take chapters to recite the goings on of that evening in either
end of the house, the jokes of father Hill, and the homilies of father
Pilgrim. Sylvanus dared and was slapped; and Timotheus followed his
example, but was more gently dealt with. Christie and Malvina, as
bridesmaids, had to inspect the trousseaus with Mrs. Hill. In spite of
Saul's protest against worldly amusements, the geographical cards were
produced, and the lady of the third-class county certificate swept the
board, although the constable maintained his right to Russia and India,
and Pilgrim pater easily secured all Palestine and Syria, owing to his
extensive study of Josephus, which he recommended to Mr. Hill as a
valuable commentar on the Old Testament Scriptures. Nor were the
occupants of the drawing-room less jolly. The Squire and the doctor, Mr.
Bangs and Mr. Bigglethorpe, kept the conversation lively, and would have
hurt the feelings of Orther Lom, who arrived by the stage, if he had had
any to hurt. The contracting parties were grave and self-contained, as
became their position; and, to look at Mr. Errol, no one could have
dreamt of his ever having gone on the splore. Dr. MacPhun came late, in
his own buggy, accompanied by his daughter Maggie, a pretty girl of
seventeen, who was just what the feminine community wanted. The reverend
doctor warmly congratulated his co-presbyter, and jocularly quoted words
to the effect that hope's blest dominion never ends, and the greatest
sinner may return, which Mrs. Carmichael regarded as an unworthy
reflection upon her intended's antiquity. Wednesday came at last, and
the Kirk was decked at morning tide, but, unlike St. Cuthbert's, the
tapers did not glimmer fair. The concourse was great, and the organ and
choir were at their best. Mrs. Carmichael was attended by Miss Graves
and Miss MacPhun, and Mr. Errol by Mr. Douglas and Mr. Lamb. When Dr.
MacPhun had united them, and spoken a few felicitous words, he retired
to the vestry, and yielded the gown and bands to the new bridegroom,
before whose bar appeared Miss Graves, supported by the two Marjories,
and Mr. Douglas with Mr. Bangs and Mr. Lamb. When little Marjorie saw
herself paired off with Orther Lom, she thought of the Captain's
couplet, and burst into a fit of laughter, which drew down upon the
culprit her cousin's reproof. The Squire had given away his sister, and
Miss Graves was handed over to Mr. Douglas by the doctor, for the reason
that her late lamented father had been a distinguished medical man. When
the wedded pairs passed out of the church, there was great cheering, in
which Mr. Terry and Mr. Bigglethorpe seemed to be rival fuglemen. At
Bridesdale, a pale young man with a long brown beard was reclining on a
couch, and looking eagerly out of a window. His dark blue frock coat,
light grey trousers, and white silk necktie, meant business, too. It
would never do for little Marjorie to be three times a bridesmaid, for
that was unlucky; so Miss MacPhun stood by Marjorie the greater, and
Bangs helped Coristine to his feet. The two divines mercifully made the
service brief, and two well mated souls obtained each its chief desire.
Mr. Errol and the Squire were very patronizing towards their new made
son and nephew. The Captain was satisfied. "I thought all along it was
that sly dog Will-kiss-em was after the old man's niece, the sly dog;
but he's off, and a good riddance to poor stuck-up rubbish, say I." The
table speeches were marvellous. Dr. MacPhun exhausted Dean Ramsay's
anecdotes, Mr. Bigglethorpe allegorized marriage as fishing in all its
branches, Doctor Halbert said the great trouble with female nurses
always was that they would go and marry their patients, and Mr. Bangs
remarked that, if he could run down somebody who was wanted as quickly
as Mr. Douglas had done, he would make his fortune. Mr. Lamb lavished
himself on Maggie MacPhun, and, as she was young, semi-rural, and unused
to the masculine production of cities, his attentions were agreeable,
much to his satisfaction; his peace of mind with himself nothing could
disturb.
In the evening, Mr. Errol put on his gown once more, and Dr. MacPhun
stood by his side, while in front of them there was a small table on
which lay a Bible, and, a short distance off, a larger one with a
marriage register, pen and ink, and duly filled certificates. At a given
signal, Mr. Hill appeared, leading his daughter Tryphena, followed by
Christie Hislop and Malvina McGlashan. Next came Sylvanus in the grasp
of Saul Pilgrim, attended by Rufus, and the ubiquitous Mr. Bangs.
Without being asked, Mr. Pilgrim senior ostentatiously stated, after Mr.
Hill had bestowed his oldest daughter, that he gave his son to be that
woman's husband, and trusted they would bring up their family, as he had
done his, in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. This bombshell
excited some merriment in the rear of the procession, where Mrs. Rigby
was pushing the corporal forward to exhibit his uniform and medals. When
the ceremony was over, the bride and bridegroom remained, but the
fathers and the assistants returned to the kitchen. Tryphosa now hung
upon her father's arm, and Timotheus was hauled in by Saul, receiving
admonitions on the way. The groomsmen and bridesmaids were as before.
Mrs. Hill, who stood by Mrs. Carruthers, wept copiously, when her
favourite daughter's turn came, and Hill senior gave her away with a
qualm, especially as the parent of Timotheus presented him as the
prodigy's son come back from the swine husks. So the last ceremony was
over. "Siccan a thing as five waddins in ae day was never heard o' in
Flanders before," said the Squire, with a sigh of relief. Of course, the
people ought all to have gone away somewhere, according to all the rules
that govern civilized marriage. Mr. Errol went to his lodgings to pack
up, and took Mr. Douglas with him. As for the rest of the married
people, they simply went on with their ordinary tasks and amusements as
if nothing personal had happened. Before these two gentlemen retired,
however, they had to take part in a dance in the coach-house, at which
old Styles played the fiddle, and the constable called out the figures,
while Mr. Pilgrim groaned in the ears of Mrs. Hill over the worldly
spirit that was sapping the foundations of spiritual life. When the
drawing-room people left the festive coach-house, the ladies divested
themselves of the day's finery, and the gentlemen retired to the office,
where Mr. Errol smoked three pipes and renewed his youth. Dr. MacPhun
told more stories, as did Messrs. Bigglethorpe and Bangs, and at last
they all became so happy, that a deputation of the Squire and the
minister was sent to produce their new relative Coristine, and make him
drink a bumper of champagne to his bride's health. As the relatives
crossed arms, and, on this improvised chair, carried the bridegroom
round the table in triumph, the Captain roared: "Pour it down his
scuppers, boys, for he's the A1 clipper; and that sly dog thought he'd
have the old man's niece, with no more fun in his calf's hide than a
basswood figure head!"
Next morning early, Messrs. Errol and Douglas appeared to claim their
brides at the Dale, and found them packed, and ready to start after
breakfast. Mrs. Thomas was left mistress of the house, with directions
to hand it over to Sylvanus and Mrs. S. Pilgrim when she wished to
return home. Timotheus and Mrs. T. Pilgrim were told to go and take
possession of Tillycot, and put in a winter of judicious clearing. Good
bye was said all round. Coristine was lifted into the second seat,
between Mrs. Carruthers and his new made wife, who looked her loveliest.
Mrs. and Mr. Errol sat by the Squire, and Mr. Bigglethorpe intruded
himself as far as the bridge on Mr. and Mrs. Douglas. Ben Toner, tired
of being haughtily glared at by Mrs. Rigby, offered to drive the trunks
in a separate vehicle, but, to the great delight of the junior Pilgrims,
the Captain ordered Saul to perform that duty. Nevertheless, Ben
accompanied Saul part of the way, and got off with Mr. Bigglethorpe. The
patient was tired when Collingwood was reached, but recovered in the
parlour car and arrived in Toronto in good condition, and able to
introduce his bride to Mrs. Marsh. Mr. Douglas and he got together their
portable effects, and Mrs. Douglas increased her travelling impedimenta.
The party then left in time to see the glorious fall scenery of the
Hudson in the morning, and reached New York in abundance of leisure.
Coristine's imperious wife insisted that he should begin at once to
spend her fortune, saying that was the only reason for her marrying him;
but the invalid, otherwise so biddable, was very firm on this point, and
represented that his bank account was far from exhausted. They were
hardly on the steamer, when Mrs. Carruthers ran forward and fell into an
old man's arms. It was Mr. Terry, who had bidden them an affectionate
farewell at Bridesdale, and had then taken the stage in their wake to
give them all a grand surprise. The weather was fine, the equinoctials
all past, and the sea gently flowing. Rugs and pillows were laid on the
deck, between camp chairs and stools, and, while the bearded lawyer lay
propped on the former, with the most beautiful woman on board kneeling
beside him, the rest of the company occupied the higher seats. The
ladies worked away at airy nothings, and the gentlemen, Squire included,
smoked cigars and pipes, all talking of the stirring events of the past,
and forecasting the pleasures of the near future. Somehow they all
seemed to miss little Marjorie, and wondered what sort of time she and
the rest of them were having at Bridesdale.
Three months soon passed away. Mrs. Coristine's fortune was secured, and
transformed into Canadian securities by her legal husband, half being
made over to Mrs. Errol. The minister took his bride to Perth, and
introduced her to his friends, who received her as graciously as the
Edinburgh people did Mr. Douglas' queenly wife from Canada. On Princess
Street many a pedestrian stopped to look at the well-matched pair. Mr.
Carruthers looked up his Scotch relations, and then crossed the Irish
Sea to inspect the "owld shod," under Mr. Terry's proud guidance. But
the great doctors said Mrs. Coristine must take her husband away to the
south of France, to the Riviera, perhaps even to Algeria, for the
winter. Mr. Douglas, who was like a brother, saw them safely established
at Mentone, and returned to England in time to see the Flanders' five on
board their steamer at Liverpool, laden with presents for the children
and the servants, the Thomases and the Perrownes, not forgetting Mr.
Bigglethorpe and Mr. Bangs. Three more months of winter passed at
Bridesdale, then the brief spring, and at length summer came round in
all its glory. Timotheus and his men had cleared the encampment of its
scorched trees, had put many acres into crop, and had built the farm
house on the site of the burnt buildings, into which he and his blooming
wife had moved, because the Wilkinsons and the Mortons were coming to
the chalet in July. The Bridesdale people heard that the former dominie
had not been idle, but, by means of his geological knowledge, had
discovered iron and lead mines, which were already yielding him a
revenue. Mrs. Errol brought them a letter from Marjorie, saying that
Eugene was quite restored, and that they would be home early in July,
bringing that dear old lady, Eugene's mother, with them. Correspondence
had also been going on between the Wilkinsons and the Coristines on both
sides of the houses, and Mr. Terry seemed to be included in the circle.
One fine July morning he asked for the loan of the waggonette and set
off to town, whence he returned in the afternoon, with three ladies and
a coloured ladies' maid, attended by a gentleman and his servant on
horseback. Strange to say, the Errols, the Perrownes, the newly-married
Bangs, and Mr. Bigglethorpe, were at Bridesdale. Marjorie's terrier, a
new Muggins given her by Mr. Perrowne, but which she called Guff, ran
barking to meet the approaching party, and the animal's mistress,
following it, was soon in the arms of long absent friends. "Where is
Eugene?" she cried, in a tone of disappointment. "Where is Mr.
Wilkinson?" asked Mrs. Carruthers, in concern. "We have lost them for a
little while," replied the ladies, cheerfully. So they changed their
things, unpacked their trunks, dispensed many gifts, brought through all
sorts of custom houses, and assembled in the drawing-room to await the
stated six o'clock tea. The clock was on the stroke, when they all heard
singing, on the road, of two male voices:--
For, be it early morning,
Or be it late at night,
Cheerily ring our footsteps,
Right, left, right!
Then two jovial pedestrians came swinging through the gate, with the old
knapsacks on their backs, and newly cut staves in their hands. They
responded heartily to the varied salutations of the company, and, as
each bowed himself over the woman he loved best, they said: "God has
been very good to us, and has sent us more than a marshal's baton
through these two knapsacks."
* * * * *
Pleasant were the two summer months at Bridesdale and Tillycot, with
visits to the Manse and Cubbyholes, to Bangslea and the Beaver River.
Two little Pilgrim girls and a Toner boy appeared before the visitors
went home; and, soon after their arrival at their homes, they learned
that Basil primus was marching Basil secondus in his arms, clad in a
nocturnal surplice. Mr. Bigglethorpe had had his baby christened Felix
Marjoram, regarding the latter botanical word as a masculine equivalent
of Marjorie. When, next year, the welcome visitors came to Flanders from
Toronto and the far south, they brought each a maid and a warm little
bundle. The bundle of Mrs. Coristine was called James Farquhar, and that
of Mrs. Wilkinson was Marjorie Carruthers. When they cried, Mr.
Coristine, M.P., and Dr. Wilkinson, if they were about, carried them
round, singing outlandish songs; when they were good, the parents laid
two knapsacks over a rag on the lawn, put pillows on top, and the babies
against the pillows, betting quarters as to which would kick the
highest.
The culprits were all set free or left unmolested. The two Davis
brothers disappeared, evidently across the lines. Old man Newcome is
said to have been converted by Father Newberry and to be living a life
in keeping with the exalted station of his daughter Serlizer. Reginald
Rawdon's son was looked up by Mr. Bangs, and started in business in a
new town, as a country store-keeper, on part of his uncle's ill-gotten
money. Monty, growing a big lad, has charge of the farm at Bangslea,
and, to see him and his grey-haired, but otherwise young-looking,
mother, none would think they had ever been deprived of their reason.
The character of Nagle, alias Nash, has been amply cleared by his
friend, who has erected a suitable memorial to him at Collingwood
cemetery. Peskiwanchow is hardly recognizable in its reformed condition,
and the Beaver River, like the Flanders' lakes, is safer to visit,
though otherwise as delightful as ever, than when the Maple Inn was
invaded by two knapsacks. Mr. Bulky is still its hero, and Wilkinson,
who does not smoke, has had him up to Tillycot with Mr. Bigglethorpe and
without his fishing coat.