_ACCIDENTAL AND CONFIDENTIAL._
1815.
Mr. Wrenford, the bookkeeper, whose tutoring days were now over, sat
at his desk in the office, reading letters which had come by morning
post addressed to the firm.
Among the letters which he opened and read was one for Mrs. P.
Wright, in care of P. Wright, jr., for Phil had chosen Sarah for his
bride, and Bearie was preparing a home for Nancy. It was from Abbie,
and lay bare to her bosom friend and sister-in-law the deep secrets
of her heart.
She had been disappointed, and had resolved at length to give up
fretting for one whom she had loved and lost. Could he ever have
loved her? Why, if alive and able to communicate with her, had he
remained as dead? Could it be that he had laid down his life in
defence of the colony with gallant Brock at Queenston? or at Stony
Creek? but that would not account for his silence before the
invasion. Ever since she had parted with him at Quebec his image had
been enshrined in her heart, and now two others were seeking her hand
in marriage. One, though unloved and distrusted by every member of
the family, her father only excepted, had once again renewed his
suit, and her heart turned to him because of his resemblance to his
friend, her first love. The other was her brother's most intimate
friend, who had assisted in releasing her from her perilous position
the night of the sugar party. To say which she loved most was a
problem. At times one seemed uppermost in her heart's affection, at
times the other.
The letter closed with the following pathetic words: "Would that an
angel from heaven could fly down and whisper the name of the one most
worthy of my deepest confidence and love. Oft have I wondered, with
swelling heart, if the Omniscient thought me unworthy to enter the
sacred sphere of wedded life. Now, at last, there seems a ray of
hope. Let it be fully understood, dear Sarah, that this is _entré
nous_. Do not whisper it even to Phil."
Wrenford read and re-read the precious missive, and hastily jotting
down one or two sentences in his pocket-book, re-folded, re-sealed it
and handed it to Phil, who came in shortly afterwards.
The Chief discovered by mere chance that evening that, for some
unaccountable reason, his bookkeeper had debited the men with the
amount of their wages, and credited them with the amount of their
store account, and charged a man with an order for two shillings
instead of two pounds, for which he reproved him severely.
Wrenford looked dazed and bewildered, and replied with a deep sigh,
after meditating for some time and shifting his attitude uneasily:
"Ah, well, sir, you see, I am not altogether responsible for my
actions, for, as a matter of fact, sir, I fear that my affections
have run off with my wits, and I feel impelled to lay before you a
very important request. For many months I have been exceedingly
desirous of approaching your second daughter with a view to marriage,
but hesitated to do so without consulting you, sir. I think the time
has come when your daughter would consider the matter favorably, and
with your consent I shall lose no time in laying the matter before
her."
The Chief tilted back his chair, thrust both hands into his pockets,
and with a characteristic droop of his right eyelid said slowly:
"You have my full, free and hearty consent, and if you are successful
I shall take you into the firm of P. Wright & Sons as a partner."
Wrenford went to the wicket in answer to a call from one of the
employees, and the Chief left his seat and stood leaning against the
high desk with its set of books, surveying his clerk from head to
foot. The fastidiousness of his dress, the arrogance of his manner,
his cultured mind, his shrewd business capacity, gave additional
effect to his claim. He seemed a man worthy in every way of the
favor he sought.
The Chief's face was expressive of satisfaction in the highest
degree, and could hardly have deceived the young Englishman with
reference to what was passing in his thoughts. They left the office
together at twilight and strolled beyond the village by a pleasant
walk to the White House. It was a clear, calm evening, with hardly a
sound to break the stillness but a cow-bell tinkling in the distance,
the hum of insects and the rushing water. As they entered a grove of
stately trees they beheld an unexpected vision. It was Abbie. Her
proud dark eyes were fixed upon the ground as though some passion or
struggle were raging within. By her side was Thomas Brigham, who
stood looking intently into her face, holding her hand meanwhile.
Matters were evidently on the verge of coming to a climax when they
heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Abbie looked up suddenly,
her face crimsoning to the roots of her hair as she observed the cold
steel-gray eyes of Mr. Wrenford looking defiantly at Thomas.
"I fear we are intruding," said the Chief, coldly.
"Not at all," replied Abbie. "Mr. Brigham has just given me a
conundrum to solve, and I was trying to think of an answer."
Whereupon Mr. Wrenford said:
"By the way, Miss Wright, I have been seeking an opportunity all day
of seeing you with reference to the new spinnet that your mother
wished us to order from Montreal. We had a letter from the firm this
morning, and I was going up to see you about it."
Almost unconsciously Abbie was led to walk with Mr. Wrenford the
remainder of the way, while Thomas, biting his lips with rage,
followed in solemn silence with the Chief.
It was rather late, and the Chief, following the example of the other
members of the family, retired, leaving the rival suitors and Abbie
in the sitting-room.
A look of triumph came into the face of Harold as she addressed her
remarks mostly to him, and seemed oblivious of the presence of
Thomas. This, however, faded away when she passed a small basket of
maple sugar to his rival. Clouds and sunshine alternated in the
faces of the jealous suitors, each of whom had made a solemn resolve
to remain until after the other should withdraw. The embarrassment
of the situation was relieved only when the great old-fashioned clock
struck one, and Abbie, with extended hand, advanced to Mr. Brigham
and said:
"May I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you sometime to-morrow?
and you, too, Mr. Wrenford," she added, as the two bowed themselves
out of the door.
The progress of the suits of the rival claimants for Abbie's
affections had been watched with deep interest by the villagers; in
fact, it was an open secret that betting had taken place among them
on the chances of Harold Wrenford and Thomas Brigham.
Abbie, who in every other matter held such decided opinions, was
unable to come to a decision in this. At times, after long nights of
reflection, she was disposed to accept Harold; and then, again, after
other wakeful nights, she felt her inclinations turning towards
Thomas.
But now things had come to a crisis. All night she tossed restlessly
on her pillow, indecision and suspense depriving her of rest and
peace, but as the first rays of dawn began to gild the eastern sky
Abbie had resolved that she would accept the one who would come first.
At an early hour Mr. Wrenford called, and after a prolonged
interview, Abbie declared to the family circle her engagement to the
young Englishman. The announcement was received in silence. Tears
trickled slowly down the mother's face, while the father's was
radiant with satisfaction.
It was subsequently decided to postpone the marriage indefinitely,
out of deference to the wishes of the mother and brothers.