THE MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS
Angus Anglesea entered the room, ushered in by Roland and followed by
Mr. Force.
Mrs. Force arose from her chair to meet her old friend, who took her
hand and bowed over it respectfully.
“I am very glad to see you after so many years,” said Mrs. Force, as
Roland drew forward a chair for the visitor.
“I wish with all my heart and soul that our meeting had been earlier! It
would then have saved much misunderstanding and suffering,” said Gen.
Anglesea, with a deep sigh, as he took his seat by her side.
“The past is past,” said the lady.
“Every one in this world has something to bear. All things considered,
we have had but a small share of the universal burden,” cheerfully
remarked Abel Force.
“I have brought some very important documents here to place in your
hands,” said Anglesea, beginning to sort a parcel of papers that he
held.
“You have taken much trouble to bring me these documents. How can I
thank you sufficiently?” murmured the lady.
“But I need no thanks for doing my duty! This is the will of the late
Antonio Saviola, by which he leaves all his possessions to his
grandnephew, Rolando Saviola,” said the general, laying the largest
document on the small stand in front of the lady’s chair.
She bowed, and took it up.
“This is the certificate of your marriage with Luigi Saviola, and this a
certificate of the baptism of your son. These documents were necessary
to establish your son’s right to the inheritance of the Saviola
estates,” he continued, placing two other papers on the table.
These also the lady took up, with a bow of thanks.
“Mr. Force will tell you how all these came into nay possession, if he
has not already done so. And now, dear lady, having surrendered my
trust, I must take my leave for the present. I have been cautioned by
your physician, who is waiting in the parlor below, not to make my visit
too long. I shall remain in Washington some time, and I hope I shall be
permitted to see you often,” said Anglesea, as he arose to leave the
room.
“Must you go? Then return soon. Come often. Do come and spend the
evening with us. I am quite recovered, I assure you, and shall join my
family party in the drawing room after dinner,” said the lady, detaining
the hand that he had given her.
“I will do so with pleasure,” returned the general, and with a low bow
he relinquished her hand and left the room.
His exit was followed by the entrance of the doctor to make his daily
visit. He expressed much satisfaction on finding his patient so much
improved. And when Mrs. Force spoke of her wish to join her family in
the drawing room, the doctor made no objection to the proposed measure.
As soon as he had gone, the lady dismissed her other two visitors, Abel
Force and Roland, telling them that she meant to dress and go down into
the parlor, where they might rejoin her.
The two men left the room.
A half hour later, Elfrida Force was seated in the alcove at the rear of
the saloon, surrounded by her daughters, her young friends, and her old
Maryland neighbors, all of whom rejoiced over her as over one who, if
not risen from the dead, had at least passed safely through a terrible
crisis and risen from a most dangerous illness.
All the gentlemen of their circle were absent, having gone with Roland,
who was to pass through some necessary formalities before he could be
released from bonds and set entirely at liberty.
So it turned out that the large party in the alcove was a “hen
convention.” And the subject they discussed was a double wedding, when
and where to come off.
Leonidas had that day pleaded for an immediate marriage, urging, with
much reason, the long time that he and his beloved had been obliged to
wait, and the repeated disappointments they had been fated to suffer.
And Mr. Force had replied that he would consult Mrs. Force on the
subject and give him an answer as soon as possible. Mr. Force had, in
fact, resolved to leave the matter to be determined by his wife.
Roland had also pleaded for an early wedding, arguing that he would be
compelled to go to Italy to take possession of his estates, and that
after all that he and his sweetheart had endured, they might really
expect to be made happy.
Mrs. Hedge and Miss Grandiere promised to take the matter into
consideration, and give him an answer in due time.
And now all the women and girls were freely discussing the subject.
There should be a double wedding—that was a fixed fact. Leonidas and
Odalite, Roland and Rosemary should be married at the same place and at
the same time—but in what place and at what time? In the city of
Washington, within a week, or in St. Mary’s County, within a month?
That was the question that occupied the ladies’ circle.
There was so much to be said on both sides. It would save time, trouble
and expense to have the double wedding come off in Washington. But,
then, as Roland and Rosemary were to sail for Europe immediately after
their marriage, it seemed a pity that they should not look once more
upon old scenes and meet once more old friends before their departure.
You see the matter resolved itself at length into a question of
convenience or of sentiment. And, inasmuch as it was a convention of
women who sat upon this subject, the decision may be anticipated, as
given in the favor of sentiment.
The weddings, therefore, were to be celebrated with great pomp at All
Faith Church, Mondreer and Oldfield, in St. Mary’s County—that is to
say, the double marriage ceremony was settled to be performed at All
Faith Church, the wedding breakfast to be served for both parties at
Mondreer, and the evening reception to be held at Oldfield.
After which Leonidas and Odalite would depart to spend their honeymoon
at their own little estate of Greenbushes, and Roland and Rosemary would
leave for New York en route for Europe.
The ladies had settled this quite to their satisfaction before the
gentlemen all returned with the good news that all formalities had been
duly observed, and now Roland was a free man, without the smallest
suspicion of a blemish on his honor.
“And now,” said Abel Force, “we may all go down into Maryland as soon as
we please, and show Enderby and Anglesea what our country life is like,
for they have both promised to be our guests for a season.”
“That will be delightful, and I am rejoiced to hear it,” said Mrs.
Force, very cordially. At which the two invited guests bowed.
Later on that evening, when Elfrida Force found herself alone with her
husband in their chamber, she said:
“We cannot go down to Mondreer in less than a week. I must write
to-morrow to have the house prepared for the reception of our visitors.
And while that work is going on I must do some shopping here for the two
girls. You know they cannot be married without clothes.”
“Without clothes! Good Lord, no!” exclaimed the squire, and he gave in
immediately.
The next day Mrs. Force wrote to her housekeeper at Mondreer, addressing
that worthy woman as Mrs. Anglesea, lest, with her true name on the
envelope, the missive might not reach her, or if it did, might offend
her; but—addressing her so for the last time, for after announcing the
advent of her family and visitors at Mondreer, and instructing the
housekeeper in regard to the preparations to be made for their
accommodation, Mrs. Force wrote briefly of the facts which had come to
light concerning the impostor who had called himself Col. Angus
Anglesea, but who was really Byrne Stukely, an ex-midshipman in the
royal navy, long an adventurer, and lately a pirate. She suppressed only
one fact—the existence of Stukely’s wife and family at Angleton—and this
she kept in mercy to the deceived woman, since there could be no good
come of revealing it. She ended by advising the Californian to drop the
name of Anglesea, to which the man who had given it to her had no sort
of right, and to take back that of her late husband, who had had every
claim on her love and faith. She counseled her to do this the more
especially as the real Angus Anglesea was to be one of their visitors at
Mondreer.
Having dispatched this letter by the morning’s mail, Mrs. Force ordered
a carriage, and in company with Mrs. Hedge, Odalite and Rosemary, drove
out to purchase wedding finery for the two brides-elect.
Two days later all the Grandieres, together with Mrs. Hedge, Rosemary
and Miss Sibby Bayard, left Washington for St. Mary’s, partly on account
of the expense and inconvenience of sleeping in lodging houses and
eating at hotel restaurants, and partly as an advance guard to go before
and prepare the way for the wedding parties.
Mr. and Mrs. Force, with their family and guests, expected to follow in
about ten days—or as soon as the wedding outfit for the two brides could
be completed, for the lady had undertaken the supervision of that part
of the program.
Young Sam Grandiere had pleaded hard to be allowed to marry Wynnette at
the same time that Leonidas was to marry Odalite, and Roland Rosemary.
And neither Mr. nor Mrs. Force raised any objection. But Wynnette
herself resisted the proposal in a characteristic way.
“No,” she said, “we must not think of ‘marrying or giving in marriage,’
while our countrymen are falling in battle or dying in hospitals by
thousands and tens of thousands—many also perishing for want of help,
and not hands enough at leisure from business or from pleasure to give
it! No! I suppose it is necessary that these others should marry for
good reasons, but you and I must wait for better times, Sam, because, as
soon as the double wedding is over and the two ‘happy’ pairs gone, Elva
and I intend to return to Washington and go to work in the hospitals.”
“In the hospitals! What can you two do?” had been Sam’s amazed
exclamation and incredulous question.
“We may not be first-rate nurses, but we can help the nurses; we can
obey orders, step lightly, speak softly, fetch and carry, and do any
work we are put to do, and we mean to do it!”
“And your father and mother mean to let you?”
“Of course they do! That is what we all came home from Europe for. And
papa and mamma mean to offer their services, too.”
“Well! If it were not you and your parents, Wynnette, I should say that
you were all the biggest fools in the world, and that each one of you
was the biggest fool of all the rest!” exclaimed the provoked lover.
“And if it were not you, who couldn’t hit me back because you are a man
and I am a girl, I should box your ears soundly for saying that, Mr.
Samuel Grandiere!”
“Oh, I shouldn’t mind that,” said Sam, with a laugh.
And the honest young pair parted good friends, Sam going to escort his
relations on their journey to St. Mary’s.