A SURPRISE.
We were feeling a little solemn at the cottage. George, with his lively
ways, and Clara, with her sparkling vivacity, were away on their wedding
tour, and our good friend, Mr. Desmond, to whom we had taken a great
liking, was about to sail for an indefinite absence in foreign lands.
Though the mother-in-law’s presence was less oppressive than formerly,
there was now a pensiveness, an air of departed glory about it, that was
not cheerful. There was danger of settling down to a humdrum sort of
life, free from strife, perhaps, but at the same time devoid of that
buoyancy which should make the home of a young couple joyous.
I was a little doubtful of making a vacation in the country this summer.
To be sure, when George went away, it was agreed that after he had gone
the round of the White Mountains, the attractions of Canada, Niagara
Falls, and Saratoga, he would return for a quiet stay of a few weeks, at
the close of the season, to the little resort which we had visited a
year ago, and there, if Bessie’s health would permit, and I could
arrange for a sufficient absence from business, we would join them. But
I almost dreaded taking Mrs. Pinkerton with us, and doubted whether she
would go; at the same time, I did not like to propose leaving her behind
to take care of the cottage. I was in perplexity, and, notwithstanding
my splendid new prospects in business, was not feeling cheerful.
Coming home from a restless round of the city on the Fourth of July,
where I had found the great national holiday a bore, I noticed Mr.
Desmond’s team coming up to the garden gate with a brisk turn. That fine
old gentleman—I always feel like calling him old on account of his gray
whiskers, though he was little more than fifty—came down the walk and
with stately politeness assisted Bessie and the baby out of the
carriage. I looked to see Mrs. Pinkerton follow, but she was not there,
and clearly Mr. Desmond had not been to ride. It struck me as a little
queer, not to say amusing, that they had been having a quiet
_tête-à-tête_ together in the cottage while John gave Bessie and the
baby their airing. But then, it was not so strange either, for was he
not going to leave us in two days? It was no uncommon thing for Mrs.
Pinkerton to stay within while Bessie was out, and he had probably
dropped in late in the afternoon, expecting to find us all at home, as
it was a holiday. I bade him good by in case I did not see him again, as
he got into the carriage to ride back to the city.
“Oh, I shall see you to-morrow,” he said in a brisk tone which had not
been habitual with him of late.
That evening my mother-in-law was uncommonly gracious, a little
absent-minded, and more pleasant in spirit than I had ever known her.
She seemed to be filled with an inward satisfaction that I could not
make out at all. Bessie and I both remarked it, but could not surmise
any cause for the apparent change that had come over the spirit of her
dream.
Next morning, on reaching town, I found a note asking me to step over
to Mr. Desmond’s office when I could find time. I went at my leisure,
wondering what was up. As I entered, he seemed remarkably cordial and
happy.
“I find that Blunt,” he said in a business-like way, “would like to have
you take hold at once, if possible. Their affairs are in some confusion
and need an experienced hand to straighten them out. It will be
necessary for you to give a bond, which I have here all prepared, with
satisfactory sureties, and you need only give us your signature, which I
will have properly witnessed on the spot.”
“Oh, is that it?” I thought. Strange I didn’t think of its having
something to do with my new position. I knew I could get away from my
old place at a week’s notice, as I had already made known my intention
to leave, and there were several applicants for the position. The bond
was executed without hesitation.
“You will not lose your vacation,” Mr. Desmond said, “though your salary
will begin at once. As soon as you can get matters in order, which may
take a month or more, you are to be allowed a few weeks’ absence to
recuperate and get fully prepared for your new responsibilities.”
Thanking him for his kindness, I was about to go, when he said, “Sit
down, Mr. Travers. I have something else to say to you.”
“What’s coming now?” I wondered, as I took my seat again. Mr. Desmond
seemed a little at a loss how to begin his new communication, and came
nearer appearing embarrassed than I should have thought possible for
him.
“The fact is,” he said at last, “I have changed my mind about going
abroad.”
I have no doubt I looked very much surprised and puzzled, and smiling at
the expression of my face, he went on,—
“Your mother-in-law, Mrs. Pinkerton, is a very worthy woman; in fact, a
remarkably worthy woman.”
I couldn’t deny that; but why should he choose such a time and place to
compliment her?
“Do you know,” he added, with a still nearer approach to embarrassment
in his manner, and something like a blush on his usually calm face, “I
have asked her to become Mrs. Desmond.”
“The devil you have!” was my thought as astonishment fairly overcame
me. I didn’t say it, though, but it was my turn to be embarrassed, and I
hardly knew what to say.
Having got it out, Mr. Desmond fairly recovered his equanimity. “Yes,”
he said, “I put the idea away from me for a long time, but it would
persist in growing upon me, and I finally concluded that perhaps it
might contribute to the happiness of _all_ parties, so I have taken the
plunge. I hope you approve of it,” he added, with a queer twinkle in his
eye.
“With all my heart, sir,” I said earnestly; “and I am sure it will be as
pleasing as it is surprising to us all.”
Throughout that afternoon I was restless, and eager to get home to tell
Bessie the wonderful news. It was the longest afternoon I ever saw, but
at length it passed and I hurried home. As Bessie met me at the door I
said eagerly, “I’ve got a surprise for you, deary.”
Now I noticed for the first time that she was all smiles and full of
something that she was eager to surprise me with. Simultaneously each
recognized that the other had the secret already. Of course; what a
fool I was! Her mother naturally enough would tell her while Mr. Desmond
broke the matter to me.
“Isn’t it jolly?” I said.
“Why, Charlie, are you then so anxious to get rid of poor, dear mamma?”
she said, half reproachfully and half teasingly.
“Oh, no, of course not, but it is really nice for all of us, isn’t it
now? She won’t be far off, you know; we shall have our little home all
to ourselves, and Mr. Desmond will be a sort of guardian for us. And as
I said before, I think it is jolly.”
“Well, I must confess I do not altogether like the idea of mamma
marrying again, and I shall miss her very much, after all.”
I couldn’t help laughing at the little woman’s demure countenance, as
she said this. There was a little trace of jealousy in her gentle
heart—jealousy so natural to women—at the idea of another’s taking her
mother off, just as that good woman had been jealous at her taking off.
I accused her of it, and she repudiated the idea.
But everybody must admit that things had fallen out just right for all
parties, and the shadow was to be taken from our household by a new
burst of sunlight, without any heart-burning for anybody, and with
nothing but satisfaction for all. It was arranged that the new marriage
should presently occur, and the mature couple take a little trip, and
surprise George and Clara by being at the Fairview Hotel before them.
Their first knowledge of the turn of affairs was to come when they
arrived there late in August, and found their new relations in
possession. Bessie and I were to join the party for a brief stay, and so
my perplexity was happily ended.