of nothing more, we called the architect to go on with the work; but now
some two years had gone by, so much time had it taken to locate and plan
the structure to our liking. At last, just before my twentieth
birthday, the whole was turned over to me complete. Then, not waiting
for furnishings, but calling on Mr. Seymour, and he bringing every
needed thing, we celebrated the event with a dinner, and afterward a
great ball, to which all the people of Appletop and thereabouts were
invited. This last was thought to be a great event, and to surpass by
far anything of the kind ever before attempted in the new country.
Certainly it passed off with great spirit; and one of the things that
pleased me most about it was having the Haywards and Blakes to stay with
me during the week of the celebration.
Now, being free and the house in readiness, Constance and I began to
talk more seriously of our marriage, but still as a thing some way off.
Not, indeed, that we thought it needful to wait till I was of age, but
being separated by only a step a few days more or less did not so much
matter. Thus it would have turned out, except for the most surprising
and unheard-of thing that happened just at this time, and that was the
need that arose for Mr. Seymour's immediate return to England. For, so
it appeared, he was not the obscure Englishman we all had thought, but
the son of a great lord; and now, his two elder brothers dying without
issue, and his father being already dead, he had come into the title and
estate, and so must return to his own home. Of his coming to America,
and the reason therefor, it appeared, so the story ran, that when a
young man and hot-headed, being greatly disheartened and angered by the
obstacles his father placed in the way of his union with the lady of his
choice, he had married her whether or no, and gathering together all his
belongings, had come to this country, and finally to Little Sandy and
the Dragon, as you know. Of all this I had not a hint till one
afternoon when Constance and her father were to dine with me, and she,
coming early, told me the story as I have related.
"Surely you have known before to-day that your father was the son of a
nobleman?" I answered, when she had finished, surprised out of my senses
at what she said.
"Not always, but since we came to Appletop," she answered.
"As long ago as that, Constance, and you have never said a word about it
to me! Do you think it was quite generous to keep it back?" I asked, in
some humiliation that I should have been kept in the dark about so
important a matter.
"What good would it have done, Gilbert? You knew us as we are, and was
that not enough? What difference did his being the younger son of a
lord make?"
"I don't know; but have you not known he was to fall heir to the title?"
I asked, bewildered.
"Not certainly till to-day, though it has been likely these four years."
"These four years!" I answered, astonished at what she said; "and never
a hint of it to me or any one."
"No, for papa did not want it known; and besides, his surviving brother,
although an invalid, might still have outlived him."
"Now that you are what you are--and have been all along--Constance!" I
answered, stammering and hardly conscious of what I was saying.
"Well, what about it?" she asked, in her simple way.
"Well, our plans--our marriage. Surely I am not going to hold you to it
now that you have come into such prominence in the world," I answered,
with a sinking heart.
"For shame, you silly boy, to speak that way! What difference does it
make. You know papa has always looked on you as his son and has told
you so a hundred times."
"I know, but he was not a lord then."
"Yes, he was. A man noble born is always a noble, though he may not
have a title; and do you think papa is any different now from what he
was a month ago? You know better, Gilbert. Besides, you cruel boy, did
it make any difference with you when you came into your fine fortune and
found yourself betrothed to a poor tavernkeeper's daughter? For shame!
I would not have believed you so full of pride."
"That was different, Constance, for without anything you were always too
good for me, and so Aunt Jane said, though I knew it before."
"No, it is not different at all. You loved me, and that was enough, you
dear, silly goose, and I would not give you up for all the titles in the
world. Nor would papa have me. There now, kiss me, and let us never
speak of it again, for you know what you have always said, 'I have you
and you have me, and what more is there?'" And the sweet creature, not
waiting for me to do as she said, put her arms about my neck and kissed
me on both my cheeks.
"You are an angel, Constance, and a thousand times too good for me," I
answered, returning her caress; "but if your father is going to return
to England at once, it will put off our marriage," I added, disturbed at
the thought.
"Yes, I suppose so, though I had not thought of that."
"Why should it, though? Why can't we be married before he goes--now, if
there is no objection?" I added, to clinch it.
"Why, what a hurry you are in, Gilbert," she answered, but not as if
displeased at what I said.
"Yes, for if we put it off, it may be for a long time, and I see no need
of such delay," I replied, thinking of my many years of waiting.
"Why, you are only twenty, Gilbert, you know," she answered, looking at
me in the most quizzical way.
"Yes, but I have been a man these ten years, and have loved you always,
you know."
"Yes, you have, you sweet boy, and I will marry you to-day if it will
please you," she answered, putting her arm through mine as if there were
no other.
"Then we will be married before he goes, if he is agreed," I answered,
kissing her. Now, seeing Mr. Seymour coming across the road, we ran
forward to greet him at the gate.
"So you have heard the news, Gilbert?" he asked, as he approached,
seeing our smiling faces.
"Yes; Constance has told me, and I wish you joy of your good fortune,
for there is no one in the world half so worthy of it, or who would
honor it as you will," I answered, kissing his hand.
"Then you still think well of me, a lord born and bred, hot republican
that you are?"
"Yes, and a thousand times more than I ever did before," I answered,
remembering his great goodness to me always; "but are all lords like
you?"
"Yes, only better, though none of them have made the success I have as a
tavernkeeper. And about that, what will Appletop do, I wonder, when I
am gone?" he added, as if the leaving carried with it some pang of
regret.
"It will never find anybody to take your place in the tavern or
elsewhere, and your going will fill every one with sorrow, for there is
not one who does not love you," I answered, thinking of his true heart
and gentle kindness all these years.
"Ah, Gilbert, you have the making of a fine courtier, it comes so easy
for you to say pleasant things," he answered, smiling. "Constance has
told you, I suppose, that I must go back to England at once?" he added,
caressing her hand.
"Yes; and I am both glad and sorry."
"You understand that I shall want to take her with me?"
"No, not that, surely!"
"You wouldn't have me leave her here, would you?" he asked, smiling.
"Yes, if we were married first," I answered.
"Why, you have not thought of marrying for a year yet."
"I know; but your going changes everything; and why should we put it off
longer, if you have no objection?"
"I have no objection, but don't you think it would be better to have it
occur in her new home?"
"Not unless she wishes it, or you desire it, for this is her home and
country, and always will be, I hope," I answered, thinking it best to
put the matter squarely.
"Well, do as you like, children. It is never wise for old people to
meddle too much in such affairs," he added, as if thinking of his own
youth. "Only I wish Constance to go with me now, for I have to meet new
conditions, and want her by my side. Afterward I will come back with
you if only for a month, for this is now my country, Gilbert, as well as
hers. Its streams and slumbering depths," he went on, as he looked
across the intervening plain to the great river and the dark forest
beyond, "belong to all of us without reference to our place of birth.
Nature claims this love and kinship from her children everywhere, but in
my case there are other ties, as you know. So do not fear, my children,
but that I shall return many times in the days to come to visit you in
your home, in the country of my adoption."
Thus it was concluded as we stood holding each other's hands in the
shadows of the spreading trees, and it being left to Constance and me,
we determined to celebrate our marriage without further delay--not, as
you may suppose, in the new house, or in the church, but in the Treasure
room of the Dragon, where there were so many reminders of things dear to
us all, and now become a part of our lives. When this event that we had
so long looked forward to had been consummated, and every hope and
longing was thus happily fulfilled, we accompanied Mr. Seymour to
England, as he desired. There, as Lady Constance, my sweet wife was
received by her people in the most affectionate way possible, and
afterward, when they came to know her better, with such striving to keep
her among them that I came near abandoning my own country for theirs.
For in my case they could not have been more kind had I been an
Englishman and a lord, and this, you must know, is the feeling they have
for all their descendants beyond the seas, however lightly the latter
may prize their love.
In this way, and amid surroundings every way delightful, we prolonged
our stay for a year or more, but after a while, and with some sojourn on
the continent, came back to our own home, where we stayed. This, though
the town faded out after a little, as so many had done before, to
reappear under other names on the banks of the great river. We were
content to stay, and soon where the streets had been, meadows and trees
took their place, for as the houses were torn down or moved away we
acquired the property, and so added it to what we had before. Of the
Dragon, it remained as of old, and the little garden Constance had
looked after as a girl we kept as it was, and filled always with the
flowers she had loved. This part of our domain, the most cherished of
all, we left to Setti's tender care, and of the building she made a
playhouse for our children, and here they grew to be men and women, all
fair and with sweet tempers and gentle ways like their mother.
Constance and I often visited the old home, sometimes with the children
at the little feasts they spread, but often alone, when we wished to
conjure up anew the faces and forms of other days. Thus we lived in the
stillness of the country in happiness and contentment of mind, each year
adding something to the great love we had borne each other from the
first.
* * * * *
Here Mr. Holmes brought his story to a close, and doing so, looked
upward and away across the great river, as if recalling the distant
period of which he spoke. For some time I sat silent, and then, seeing
he had finished, asked, looking at the sweet lady who stood beside him:
"And Constance, sir?"
"You want to know about her?" he asked, smiling, recalled to himself.
"Yes, she most of all."
"Surely, she most of all! There could never be but one Constance--and
this is she," he answered, putting his arm about the sweet lady at his
side. She, responding with no less love, embraced him with tender
affection, and as she might in her youth, on the banks of the great
river, beneath the widespreading hawthorns.
THE REGAN PRINTING HOUSE
CHICAGO