INSTANTANEOUS PHOTOGRAPHS.
"Nothing is more deeply punished than the neglect of the affinities by
which alone society should be formed and the insane levity of choosing
our associates by other's eyes," read a lady, musingly, as Emerson's
essays fall from her knees to the soft carpet under her cushioned feet.
"Yes, nothing is more deeply punished," she half chanted in a musical
voice, while a grave, troubled look came to the dark eyes, and a quiver
of pain to the sensitive lips. "And well do you and I know it, Tyr,
though you are only a dog," she continued, as she patted a brown
retriever beside her. "Yes, you and I, Tyr, like only affinities; the
others seem to us mongrels, and to us don't seem good. I wonder if they
were so pronounced in the first week when the world was young; but fancy
is travelling without reason; they were all thorough-breds in the good
old days, and one does not read of anything like Emerson's words on
affinities, or a case similar to my own; but I am half asleep, Tyr;
watch by me, good old dog."
And leaning her head back against the soft green velvet cushioned back
of the rattan chair, Somnus is not wooed in vain; indeed, one might
imagine the god of slumber had wound a garland of poppies about her
brow, so does she sleep as an infant.
As she rests, a word of her. A Canadian; a native of Toronto, with
far-away English kin; above the medium height; dark, comely, and
slightly embonpoint; a woman of thirty, but with that troubled look at
present on her face looking older; generous, warm-hearted and
conscientious; with more than the average force of character; too
sensitive in days past; too impulsive, even yet, in this world of "they
daily mistake my words." Even at thirty, she has had years of trouble;
has been dragged in the dust under Fortune's wheel, that others might
ride aloft at her expense; earning her "dinner of herbs" that "Pooh Bah"
in the plural, may have the "stalled ox." But at last she rests, and
summer friends would again know her, who fled at her first out-at-elbow
gown; but experience is a good teacher, she will cherish only those who
have cherished her in her dark days. Society also now desires her
company in polite bids to its various webs, in shape of dinners and
lunches, with its other numerous distractions, knowing she is in
possession of a rather pretentious little home, and is in a position to
repay; for society is a debit and credit system.
"Once a widow always a widow" was not the motto of Mrs. Gower, and so
she would have again wed, again gone to God's altar; but the angel of
death forbade, using his scythe almost as the words of the church
pronounced them man and wife, and the bridal gown of the morning gave
place ere the sun had set to the black robes of a second widowhood.
Truly, "Sorrow there seemeth more of thee than we can bear and live;"
yet still we live, was her cry. The death of her friend, just at the
time manly counsel would have saved her little fortune from vultures,
habited as Christian pew-holders! was very hard, not to speak of that
intense loneliness, the death of husband, wife, or betrothed, brings
into one's life; one is as though struck mentally and physically blind,
not knowing where to turn or whose hand to take; for until such
relations are severed by death, one does not realize how one has leaned
on the one in the multitude.
"But," she would say, "one must harden oneself to the inevitable, to
Heaven's will, if one would keep one's reason;" and in time the sudden
death of the man she had so passionately loved, was as some terrible
dream. Not as she dreams away the moments now in her pretty restful
library, with its rattan furniture, cushioned and trimmed in olive-green
velvet; one side a library of her pet authors, with Davenport near;
walls painted in alternate green and cream panels; on the light ground
are lilies from nature, gathered from Ashbridge's Bay, and near the
Island; nestling in their bed of green leaves an English ivy trails
around the pretty Queen Anne mantel, with two tall palms, which bring
content to the canary as the perfume from the blossoms on the stand give
pleasure to the sleeping mistress of Holmnest.
Her own individuality is stamped upon its walls also, for on each
alternate dark green panel is some pretty bits of painting, bric-a-brac,
or motto; one reads, "Let ilka ane gang their ain gait," showing her
dislike to meddling in another's business; another reads, "The greatest
of these is charity;" and over a bust of Shakspeare are his own words,
"No profit goes where is no pleasure taken; in brief, sir, study what
you most affect."
But she dreams, and what a troubled expression. At this moment a coupe
drives up a north-west avenue of our city, stops at the gate of
Holmnest, when a gentleman, hurriedly springing out, saying, "come back
for me in about an hour-and-a-half, Somers," enters the picturesque
grounds, has reached the veranda and hall door on south side of pretty
Holmnest, rings, when a boy, in neat blue suit, answers.
"Is Mrs. Gower at home, Thomas?"
"Yes, sir; in the library."
"Very well, you need not announce me, I know the way;" and hastening his
steps he passes through a square hall, done in the warm tints now in
vogue, sunbeams coming softened through artistic panes of stained glass,
showing vases on brackets filled with flowers, which would delight "Bel
Thistlethwaite," with a few appropriate pictures, giving life to the
walls; the door of the library is ajar; he enters.
"Asleep!" he exclaims, softly; "with Emerson's thoughts for dreams and
Tyr as watch; but what a troubled expression," he thinks, seating
himself, evidently quite at home; a man, too, one would like to be at
home with, if there be any truth in physiognomy, a handsome man, five
feet eleven in height, dark hair and moustache, kindly blue eyes,
amiability stamped on his face; a man who, had events shaped themselves
that way, would have made an heroic self-sacrificing soldier of the
Cross.
He is scarcely seated when the occupant awakes with a start and a
terrified exclamation of "Oh!" at which the dog places his fore-paws on
her knees, with a whine of sympathy, as her friend, Mr. Cole, comes
forward with outstretched hand.
"When did you arrive; is it so late; you received my message to dine
with the Dales and Smyths with me this evening? but I am half dreaming
yet; of course you did, for you answered 'Yes.' Getting yourself in trim
for leap-year, I suppose," she said, smiling; "but how is it you are in
your office coat? I want you to look your very best, as you are to take
in a young lady, a Miss Crew, who comes with the Dales; she is a
super-excellent sort of girl."
"Has she money?" he says, laughingly.
"Oh, you need not pretend to be a fortune-hunter to me; I know you too
well for that; but remember, I prophesy you will lose your heart to her.
But, oh, Charlie, I have had such a horrible dream," and she presses one
hand to her forehead, at which the lace rufflings fall back from her
sleeve, showing a very good arm, her gown of ecru soft summer bunting,
becoming her style, "that dream will haunt me unless you let me tell it
you, Charlie."
"Oh, that's the use you put me to, is it? all right, fire away, I'll
interpret; it was only a mistake the baptizing me Charlie, when I have
to play the part of Joseph."
"Well, in the first part, oh Joseph, I had been reading this morning
what held my mind as to the ascent from Paris of the aeronauts, Mallet
and Jovis; their courage, and Mother Shipton's prophecy impressed me
sufficiently as to dream, with the words of Emerson as to affinities
also in my mind, that a party of us--you, the Dales, Mrs. St. Clair,
Miss Hall, Mr. Buckingham, and myself, with a gentleman who was
masked--had been taking part in an entertainment in the Pavilion,
Horticultural Gardens, in aid of the Hospital for sick children; we gave
readings, vocal and instrumental music, and laughed inwardly and glowed
outwardly, as we everyone, regardless of merit, received repeated
recalls, when afterwards the recalcitrant balloon, which refused to
inflate, when we gazed in vain at the fair grounds, did ascend after our
performance, which fact emptied the Pavilion ere we had concluded our
last effort, everyone flying, as we do at Toronto, as though there was a
drop curtain with the words in flaming colors, 'The de'il take the
hind-most;' the building was empty as our last supreme effort frightened
the few dead-heads who had slunk in; we then laughingly made a rush to
the balloon ascension, and determined there and then to further
distinguish ourselves by becoming aeronauts _pro tem_. What made it
ridiculously droll, Joseph, was the fact that the men in charge chanted
continuously Emerson's words that had impressed me ere I slept--'Nothing
is more deeply punished than the neglect of the affinities.' I was
nearest the basket, and wild with reckless spirit. As I remember, myself
stepped in; the owners seemed at variance who was to pose or rise," she
said, smilingly, "as my affinity, that is of yourself, Messrs. Dale,
Buckingham, or the man with the mask, when, finally, they signed to the
latter to enter; I was nothing loth, for his voice, a sweet tenor, had
charmed me; up we went, when to my horror your _bete noir_, Mr. Cobbe,
sprang from among the branches of a tall tree into the basket.
"'Too much ballast,' he cried, throwing out all the owners had provided
us with; we ascended rapidly--a feeling of faintness seizing me--up, up;
I feel the sensation now," she said with a tremor; "up, up, nearing the
feathery clouds, looking like down from the wings of angels. 'Too much
ballast,' he again cried, excitedly springing on the masked man, first
tearing off his mask, disclosing the essentially manly face of a
gentleman whom I frequently meet, but am not acquainted with, but in
whom I take an interest, because of his tender care of a little lady I
used to see with him; Mr. Cobbe springing on him with the words, 'too
much ballast; down with affinities!' hurled the poor fellow to earth, at
which I cried out as you heard; his fall was a something too awfully
real; one's nerves for the time suffer as severely as though all was
reality," she added in a pre-occupied tone, as though mind was burdened
with latent thought.
"But 'all's well that ends well;' Mr. Cobbe is in mid air, where I
fervently hope he will remain."
"But you forget the poor man who was hurled to the earth; I know his
face so well."
"And I know yours, Mrs. Gower, and you are safe and so am I; and as
Joseph, I interpret that you are to give your charming self to an
affinity, and don't fly too high."
"The first part of your speech is epicurean, in your second you play the
mentor," she said, laughingly; "but in your face I see you have
something to tell me; go now to the telephone and tell them to send you
your dress coat, for you have no time to go all the way to the Walker
House and be back by seven."
"No use; I cannot stay for dinner."
"Cannot stay! Why?"
"My father writes me he is going to sail for England at once, and wishes
me to meet him at London."
"Well, you ought not to look so grave over such a meditated trip,
Charlie, it will make a new man of you; and instead of betaking yourself
to the Preston baths, a sea voyage, I should say, will set you up,
making you forget the word rheumatism better than any sulphur bath in
all Canada."
"But," he said, in serio-comic tones, "what do you think of my being
forced into annexation?"
"Only that you use the word 'forced,' I should say I congratulate you."
"At the same time that you keep your own freedom, though," he said,
despondently; seeing her look of gravity, he continued, touching her
hand, "beg pardon, Elaine, I should not say that, knowing your past;
but," he said brightly, "I should like to see you wed an affinity."
"I am afraid such pleasant fate is not for me," she said, gravely.
"Do you believe in predestination, Mrs. Gower?" he says, abruptly.
"What next! from annexation to dogma. Tell me all about yourself, and it
is too lovely an Indian summer day to remain in the house, come to my
favorite seat in the garden."
"Where I shall give you an instantaneous photograph, from my father's
pen, of the girl I am predestined to change the name of."
"From your father's pen!"