Four of the happiest weeks of their lives, Gabrielle and Jim spent with
the Gibsons in their Produce Exchange tower, far out of the way of
enemies, if any there might be in pursuit. Gabrielle had confided in
Mrs. Gibson, and was urged by her to bring Jim there to convalesce, as
the doctor said he ought not to walk much for two or three months. The
lovers were delighted to transfer their trysting place to those romantic
quarters--a castle tower in the heart of New York, surrounded by a
harbor moat, and an elevator which served well the purpose of a bridge
leading to the portcullis of the upper floors. Mr. and Mrs. Gibson, and
their daughter, the winsome Nellie, were delighted to have them as
visitors, and entered into their defense against the cruel father and
his co-conspirators, the faithless chum and the unfeeling world in
general, with hearty warmth, cheering Gabrielle and filling the soul of
Jim with heavenly contentment. There he had met his darling and the
spot would be sacred to him always; it was doubly blessed when her sweet
voice sounded near him within its walls, and her tender glances drew
fond response from his eyes. On the floors below they sold grain and
bulletined the price of tallow at "five and one-half cents for city";
but in the far-away tower the din of the wheat pit was not heard. From
the round windows the ships of commerce appeared to ride the tide
care-free as the darting gulls that dived for their prey or swung on
resting wings in broad circles from shore to shore. Dreams fairer than
those lovers pictured in quiet ecstasy have never been outlined by brush
or melodious line. Just a little cube of heaven had been caught from the
realms of bliss, and they dwelt together there for four weeks.
Now, four weeks in heaven is a very brief period. Whole eternities pass
there in what seems to be an interval too brief to record on Cupid's
chronometer. Joy in my lady's tower, traveling with swift, winged feet,
marks not the hour like Terror in the castle dungeon, where the outcast
prisoner lies upon the damp stones writhing in feverish despair. While
they were up in heaven together, I was down in--the hospital or at Mrs.
Dewey's. Mr. and Mrs. Tescheron were at home in Ninety-sixth Street.
The bill of folly had been paid and Mr. Tescheron hoped the episode had
closed, although Gabrielle's manner continued to indicate that she had
not suffered so deeply as the strength of her attachment to the outlaw
had led him to believe she would. What was the secret? He did not ask
her, for having paid nearly $5,000 (more, but he didn't know it),
working along his own lines, he did not care to admit that his daughter
had outgeneraled him. A premonition that she had done so prepared him in
moments of reflection to hear the truth. He fought against the concept
every time it flashed before him, but with weakening strength, as the
outclassed fighter staggers groggily to the ropes. What match was he,
what adversary I, for Cupid, lacking the inspiration the god gave to his
faithful adherents? If you ask me why I am so familiar with Mr.
Tescheron's fears and numerous other matters recorded here, I make reply
that I have investigated all the sources of information in any way
connected with these events, and have drawn out the persons who were
involved in Hosley's career by many conversations. If this statement
does not satisfy, then I have one that will. I quote that great
authority, William Makepeace Thackeray, who tells us in Vanity Fair that
a novelist is supposed to know everything, and am I not treating the
subject as a novelist, using for the most part fictitious names and
places to shield from public ridicule the good people whose judgment may
seem weak, and actions exaggerated, in the temperature of cold type
scanned by prudent, judicial-minded readers? Icebergs will boil under
certain conditions. Human beings, I find, have their solid, liquid and
gaseous states. Be not surprised, therefore, if Tescheron, frigid when
surrounded by his cracked ice and cold-storage products at the fish
market, becomes pliable or volatile material in Hoboken under the heat
of fear and temper, and, before cooling, is wrought into strange shapes
by the artisan, Smith. Poor Tescheron! Innocently I made him pay a
pretty penny! But he needed a good hammering.
"Gabrielle, are you really to be married against your father's wishes,
my dear?" asked Mrs. Gibson, sadly, drawing Gabrielle to her. "Could we
not win him over to our view of Jim? Should we not try?"
Mrs. Gibson, Gabrielle, Nellie and Jim were in the large tower
sitting-room at the time of this questioning. "No, Mrs. Gibson"; and
Gabrielle was most serious as she spoke. "My father will in time come to
admire Jim as you do; I know father so well. Mother and I understand
him. He jumps at conclusions regarding people for whom he has a dislike,
and time and again has acknowledged to me how he regretted his haste. In
good time father will ask my forgiveness. Not before the wedding,
though, I fear; but I hope on. It is my intention to proceed, with
mother's approval."
"Almost an elopement," laughed Nellie, ready for a wedding as eagerly as
an opposed bride.
"Not quite, though, for mother will be there," smiled Gabrielle.
"I'll be there without these crutches," said Jim, dropping his supports
to the floor, while he made an effort to stump across the room and
demonstrate that he could creep to the tune of a wedding march.
"You'll do, Jim," said Nellie, as she took him by the arm to support
him, and aired the Lohengrin selection. "You are just speedy enough
to-day. In three weeks you will be able to run."
"Only three weeks off!" exclaimed Mrs. Gibson. "How the time passes! We
must hurry. Nellie, go at once to the dressmaker's and get her positive
assurance that our gowns will be ready. And you, too, have so much to
do, Gabrielle."
"The more time the more there is to do always," said Gabrielle. "A
bride is never quite ready, but in three weeks I am sure I shall be, if
I am not disappointed by all the people I have engaged to help me. But
let us think no more of our worries. You have not told me what
impression those two gowns made that came last night. Didn't you see
them? Let me show them to you."
Gabrielle brought out the gowns, and the critics went into tucks,
trimmings, opalescent spangles, Malines lace, China-ribbed embroidery
and many other bewildering technicalities. One of the dresses was all
white, fashioned out of net, and was ribbon-sashed, girdled, looped,
shirred, tucked, tuck-shirred, shirr-tucked, fulled, grilled, padded,
scrolled, rolled, appliqued, tasseled, rosetted, knotted, banded, edged,
picot-edged, ruffled, plaited, bowed, buckled, buckle-bowed, yoked and
choked with ribbon. It was a pretty gown, and a hat and muff built on
the same style went with it. The hat was to be held in place by long
streamer ribbons--I think eighteen inches wide--tied in a bow to be
knotted over the left ear, and ramify from the chin-dimple to the crest
of the hair-wave. Eiderdown, lightly packed in a hollow cylinder about
the size of a pint preserving jar, covered with ten-inch frills of
chiffon, pieced out with ribbon, wadded neglige, were points that made
the muff more dainty than warm. The combination was designed to be worn
without the muff on an ocean boardwalk about sunset, when the wind dies
down. Cosy comfort was to be supplied by the muff on a windy day, for
only a real mermaid could wear a plain fish net in all kinds of weather.
"It's a most stunning affair!" exclaimed Nellie, admiring with close
scrutiny all the fine points in the shirring, hemstitching and accordeon
plaiting.
"Very airy, but pretty," was Mrs. Gibson's view. "What is it to be worn
over? Oh, I see; this beautiful soft white taffeta. Well, Gabrielle, you
will look a bride with that gown, I am sure."
"That is one of the fine things I have gained by delay. If we had been
married five weeks ago, I would not have thought of this gem." And the
girls laughed, while Jim looked on in surprised delight. The details of
dressmaking he was not competent to discuss.
"Why does it take so many clothes to get married?" asked Jim, evidently
not understanding that every event in a woman's life is a peg for more
clothes.
"What a strange question! How foolish, Jim!" exclaimed the women.
"Don't you know that a wedding is a ceremonial affair, where all the
grand formalities must be observed?" asked Nellie. "You wouldn't have us
scuffle through it in old shoes and walking skirts, would you?"
"Jim's notion of getting married," said Gabrielle, "is extremely
primitive. For my part, I like nice things. I'm so sorry they do not
appeal to Jim." Gabrielle feigned disappointment.
"I should say they did appeal to me," Jim hastily assured the critics.
"They are so surprising!"
"Surprising! How so?" asked Nellie.
"Like a sunrise, I suppose," answered Jim. "I've never seen many, but
those who have rave over them. What a pity the styles change so often!
Next year the net in that dress will all have to be taken off and put in
place of the bead trimming on the lamp shades; the bead trimming must
then be sent to Staten Island and dyed green to make it proper for hat
ornamentation, a necklace or--"
"Amber is the proper color for a necklace," laughed Mrs. Gibson. "Nellie
cut her teeth on amber beads."
Then they all laughed, and Jim saw that it was good policy to admire
without attempting to suggest reforms.
"And this silk gauze affair, what is this?" asked Nellie. "My! it is so
light you could mail it for a cent."
"That is just a cobweb I fancied," said Gabrielle, proudly, as she
gently shook out the folds of a light creation. "How beautifully it fits
and yet it affords such freedom!"
"It's an Empire modification," remarked Nellie, who discerned the basic
neck-waisted feature of the cobweb's architecture. "Lovely short
sleeves--"
"Bad for mosquitoes," said Jim.
"Hush!" admonished Gabrielle. "We can't restrict art to such
limitations."
"If it really is a cobweb, the mosquitoes won't go near it," said Jim.
"Perhaps the designer had that in mind when he cut down the sleeves."
"What a heavy lace insertion--Valenciennes, a good part of it, isn't it,
Gabrielle?" asked Mrs. Gibson. "Why, it's simply beyond words, I think."
"Three deep embroidered flounces, and such frills and frills of lace!
My! It's grand!" So Nellie believed and declared.
Jim's imagination was not fired. "I hope I never step on it," he said.
"Don't you dare!" commanded Nellie. "This cobweb is meant to catch the
eye only--not a whole man."
While Jim was laughing and attempting to thrust his opinions still
farther upon the critics, they restored the art treasures to the boxes
and placed them in the store-room, where the bride's purchases were
gathering day by day as they arrived from the shopping district.
Fortunately, the tower was larger than it appears from Broadway, or it
would not have held all the packages and allowed the Gibsons room to
live.
Nellie had forgotten the dressmaker, but now started, and Mrs. Gibson
resumed her household duties in another room.
"Gabrielle, you are making altogether too much preparation," said Jim.
"You have undertaken too much. With your regular duties I can see that
it is wearing on you. Could you not be satisfied with less shopping and
less dressmaking?"
"No, Jim, it is not this preparation that burdens me," she replied,
seating herself at the side of her lame hero.
"Tell me what it is, then--is it that miserable fancied conspiracy
against me? I thought your father had forgotten that now."
"He believes that you are gone, and yet I can see that he knows what I
am about to do; at least I fear so. Mother may have told him, for I have
confided in her everything but telling her where you are. Naturally,
Jim, I feel sad not to have my father's support in this matter. But we
shall have his good-will later on, I am sure. In the meantime I am made
unhappy by his present attitude--how can I help it? I know he is
wrong--"
"Gabrielle, you have firmly refused to tell me just what it is your
father has against me. Time and again I have asked, but I cannot learn,
and of course I cannot imagine what his flight to Hoboken was for. He
charges me with some crime--but in heaven's name, what crime? Come,
Gabrielle, do tell me now, won't you?"
"Jim, have I not always told you in reply to your questioning that the
charges made against you by my poor, misguided father and Mr. Hopkins
are too absurd to repeat? If I should tell you now, it would only prove
my father to be a hot-headed man, one who is so easily misled by those
who arouse his fears. Let it all rest with my statement that his
position is taken because of those absurd conclusions. Then it will not
be necessary for me to make my dear father appear ridiculous."
"I shan't think that," said Jim, softly. It appeared that he could say
or do nothing to extricate himself from the work of the plotters, whose
shadows disappeared as he drew nigh. "But if you would only give me, the
accused, a chance to make a defense, I could incidentally prove Hopkins
innocent and have him at our wedding. That I should like to do. It pains
me more than I can tell to ignore that poor chap. I often wonder where
he is, and think myself a coward and an inhuman scoundrel not to make an
effort to find him."
"Why do you bother about him, Jim? Didn't the nurse hurry us from the
hospital that day because she said Mr. Hopkins had told her you were a
rogue? Don't you see that both father and he have been impressed by the
story of those villainous detectives, who would do anything for money?"
"Well, Gabrielle, tell me what those detectives have told your father
about me. He has told you, has he not? Have these charges raised no
suspicion in your mind against me? Are you not anxious to question me?
How proud, then, I am to have won the heart of such a grand little
woman!"
Before he could wait for replies to his questions the burly invalid
clutched his chair, rose to his feet and stretching out his arms
gathered up his treasure of loyalty and fondly caressed her. "How
fortunate for me," he continued, "that your heart has not been poisoned
against me! How priceless this love of yours! for without it I should
not be saved. Let the whole world forsake me, and you remain true, what
care I? Gabrielle, you have guarded me like an angel."
Jim could say no more. He choked and could not go on. Was sincerity to
be doubted when so emphasized? Could there be aught of guile in that
embrace?
"Jim, I have never doubted you--I never could doubt you, for do I not
know your heart as you know mine?" assured Gabrielle, meeting his frank
eyes steadily with hers. "You are my plain hero, untrumpeted, except by
all your friends who have known you here for years. Never ask me again
of the base charges father has listened to. I trust my love, which I see
answered in those boyish eyes--in every kind word and act. Jim, I love
you and we shall be married; we shall plan our own life in the light of
this love, and doing that we have naught to fear. We shall welcome true
friends, who will be loyal to us because we are loyal to our own ideals,
and so father shall be won to us, and Mr. Hopkins may turn toward us
again. Our troubles are largely our fears, Mr. MacDonald says, and I
believe him. How foolish to fear when we may enjoy repose through faith
and love!"
"Gabrielle, my darling, you will never again be questioned by me. So
long as you have faith, let the rest of the world go hang! Poor Ben
Hopkins, I would like to see him, though."
I give no notice here as to when the embrace released. It is quite
possible that it continued until late in the afternoon, with
hand-holding modifications, when Nellie returned and sang loudly in
another room for warning and company. The fleeting hours that the happy
pair looked out from one of those magic windows are not to be recorded
in detail. A lover's log-book is unknown. The fears and conspiracies
that might have harassed them found no leverage of doubt to pry an
entrance into Gabrielle's heart. Every wave of the higher air wafted
from Trinity's steeple, brought them the joy of marriage bells. Even
without a lame leg, Jim would never have thought of running away from
that place.
The wedding was to take place in the afternoon of Wednesday, only three
weeks off. Mr. Tescheron was to be notified in due time that it would be
held at the Episcopal church to which the family belonged. That part of
the ceremony calling for the giving away of the bride would be omitted.
Only a few relatives and dear friends would be present, and they would
understand Gabrielle's purpose to marry the man of her choice. The
affair would be clouded with sadness, they all believed (except Jim);
but Gabrielle was determined not to hide the opposition of her father.
She was determined to have her wedding about as she had planned from
childhood in the little church she loved, and up to the very minute of
the fixed hour she would hope and pray to have her father there full of
repentance and forgiveness. Mr. Tescheron was to be told by her one week
prior to the wedding. Thus he was to be given one week alone with his
conscience to settle the question whether he should accept an invitation
to his daughter's wedding. More than a week's notice, Gabrielle
believed, would inflict unnecessary cruelty and less than a week grant
hardly enough time for him to retrace his steps.
Mrs. Tescheron, poor soul, spent many hours in tears, her faith and
pride in her daughter sustaining her through the hours of preparation.
The day of the wedding she dreaded, and she doubted if she would bear up
when the climax of the strain came. Firmness prompted by kindness, the
wife and mother understood to be necessary in dealing with the irascible
head of the family, and she therefore quietly acquiesced in this policy
when administered by their only child. She had never been able to
successfully make her will dominant in the household on that principle,
perhaps because she had begun by surrendering to him the first few times
he was mastered by his temper in the early days of married life, like
most wives do surrender. The baby is generally much better brought up in
the family than the father. My observation as a bachelor teaches me that
every wife should take a husband in hand like a child--coddle him, keep
him in after dark, put him to bed very early full of hot gruel when he
sneezes or falls asleep after dinner; if he complains of a draught give
him a steaming foot-bath and one or two mustard plasters, those gentle
love-taps of family life, that lingeringly long tell of devotion; and
when he has any inclination to do anything except smile, pounce upon him
and trundle him into some sort of medicated misery, tenderly but
firmly.
I could name a dozen good husbands, men of eagle eye in the market
place, who stand pat in good nature at home, because their wives make
little or no discrimination between the babies and their papa. Mrs.
Tescheron was fortunate in her daughter, however, and in later years was
relieved as the child grew to lead them. The mother determined with as
much strength of purpose as she could summon, to rely upon Gabrielle to
find the way out in this emergency, as the daughter had in all others.