"YOUR EEN WERE LIKE A SPELL."
The silver chimes of the mantel clock rang four p.m., as Mrs. Gower
descended from her sewing-room on the last day of the old year. She
looked well in a gown of soft, grey silk, hanging in full, straight
folds, unrelieved by ornament, save a few sprays of sweet heliotrope at
her collar-fastening.
She stood at the library door, unseen by Miss Crew the only occupant,
who made a pretty picture, the last beams of the setting sun coming in
through a west window, lighting up her fair hair and pretty brown gown,
the firelight lending color to her pale cheeks; a cabinet photo is in
her hand, at which she is gazing so earnestly, and with such a troubled
expression, that she has not heard Mrs. Gower, though singing softly, as
she descended the stairs,
"Your een were like a spell, Jeanie;
Mair sweet than I can tell, lassie,
That ilka day bewitched me sae
I couldna help mysel', lassie."
"Who are you trying to read, Miss Crew?"
"Your friend, Mr. Babbington-Cole, Mrs. Gower," she said, with a start,
placing the photo back in its frame.
"And has it told you its name was Babbington-Cole, _ma chere_; we only
give the latter?"
"Yes; but you know his name is Babbington-Cole, Mrs. Gower," she
answered, evading the question.
"We do. Do you like his face?"
"Yes, very much; he looks so kind and sweet-tempered."
"Poor Charlie Cole, he is all of that; excessively amiable people so
often wed the reverse. I do hope it is not so in his case." "It is a
dreadful fate," said the girl, absently. "But we must hope for the best,
Miss Crew; but his long silence makes me fanciful; however, if we don't
receive news direct very soon--as I have had some queer dreams of him
lately--I shall write the clergyman at Bayswater."
"The reverend--I mean, how will you address it; just to the clergyman,
or how?" she said, intent upon her work.
"Yes, that's very true, I don't know his name. Oh, I have it; Mr. Smyth
left the paper with the marriage insertion; I do hope it has not been
destroyed;" and going to the rack, to look over its contents, Miss Crew,
excusing herself, left the room to get into her wraps, as she was due to
tea at the Tremaine's. Mrs. Gower, looking in vain for the English
newspaper, seated herself comfortably to read the report of the Board of
Trade dinner to the Honorable Joseph Chamberlain.
Miss Crew entered, robed for the winter streets. "Good-bye, Mrs. Gower;
I shall not be late."
"_Au revoir_; give Mrs. Tremaine my love; and say, as the Dales may
return from New York this evening, I found it impossible to leave; and
be sure and wear your over-shoes: our streets are in their usual winter
break-neck condition. I do hope the new Council will enforce the
by-law."
"I hope so, too; I had an awful fall the other day; the city treasury
would be overflowing did they collect the fines," she said, going out;
when, at the hall door, she returned, saying hurriedly, "Oh, here is the
English newspaper you were looking for, Mrs. Gower; it was upstairs."
"Thank you, good-bye."
Having made a note of the clergyman's name at Bayswater, and become
conversant with the news in the city papers, she gave herself up, in the
gloaming, to quiet thought.
"Yes, I like him very much, there is a manly, straightforwardness in his
words; a steadfastness of purpose in his honest blue eyes; a firmness in
the lines of the mouth, with a kindliness of manner; all stamping him as
a man whose friendship would be true, whose love faithful; how strange,
that at last I should meet him at the house of a mutual friend. Mr. St.
Clair tells me he has known him for years, and the Tremaines since
summer; had any one told me two weeks ago, that I should sing 'Hunting
Tower' with him in ten days, at the St. Clairs', I should have thought
them romancing. He has a sweet tenor voice, he asked me if he might
call; how pleasant it would be if he were here now. I used to wonder and
wonder, in meeting him so frequently at lectures, concerts, or in the
cars, and walking about, what his name was. Now, Alexander Blair has
come to me; and his tenderness to the little veiled lady, who was, I
suppose, consumptive, by the slow way they walked. I wonder where she
is, I never see her now: his care for her touched my heart.
"I am so glad he has come into my life: I feel lonely at times; and he
is so companionable, I know. What dependent creatures we are, after
all--houses and lands, robes _a la mode_, even, don't suffice.
Intercourse we must have.
"But," and a shudder ran through her, "what a desolate fate mine will be
if Philip Cobbe will persist in keeping me to my oath. We have not much
in common: he is kind, but neither firm nor steadfast, and now this
woman comes between us; and what would she not do were I his wife? As it
is, I live in daily dread of her doing something desperate. It was
enough to terrify any woman similarly situated, the way in which she
acted that Sunday evening, coming from church; and again, that night at
the Rogers' meeting in the Pavilion. A ring! Can it be the Dales? No, it
is Philip; I wonder what mood he is in."
"Alone! for a wonder," he said, warmly. "Leave the gas alone, Thomas,
the firelight is sufficient." "And thinking of me, and wishing for me,"
he said, as the servant left the room. "Yes, I can tell by your eyes."
"There Philip, that will do, I am actually afraid to have you in my
house. Remember that woman last night! if looks could kill, then would I
have been slain," she said, tremblingly.
"She can't harm you, and I'll put a stop to her tricks. You see, Elaine,
she is so infatuated with me, she can't keep away," he said, personal
vanity uppermost.
"But, that's just what I want you to see, Philip; it would be running
too great a risk to marry you."
"'Pon honor, love, I don't know how to shake her off."
"You did not seem to exert yourself last night. When I looked over my
shoulder to speak to you in the crowd, coming out, she had her hand on
your arm; and you were bending down listening to her."
"I know; and when you looked, she clutched her hold of my arm all the
tighter," he said, with the eagerness of a child.
"What did she say?"
"She said, you _shan't_ go home with her to-night."
"Exactly the same words she used that Sunday evening. Words and an act
that will ever be stamped on my memory. That act came between my heart
and yours, Philip, for all time," she said, sadly thinking of his
foolish flightiness in allowing anything of the kind to break up their
friendship, if no more. "You must see, Philip, that you should set me
free."
"No, no; don't talk like that; you should want me all the more when you
witness her infatuation," he said, with his juvenile air, attempting to
kiss her.
"No, Philip; I cannot let you come near me with the occurrence of last
evening so fresh in my memory."
"Oh, nonsense; when I am your husband you will be just as infatuated
about me as she is."
"Do you know, Philip, you are as vain as a girl."
"Well, yes; I suppose I am vain; but so would any man be who was as
successful with the fair sex as I am," he said, drawing himself up to
his full height of five feet nine, a look of pleasure in his large
bright eyes.
"I can assure you, Philip, I felt anything but vain at the Pavilion, or
coming out of church, with the spiteful eyes of that tall,
common-looking, over-dressed Mrs. Snob full upon me, as social
astronomer; she took in the situation at once."
"A fig for what such like see or think; I thought you were above valuing
the opinion of our wealthy plebeians."
"But we were so conspicuously placed; I shrink from giving such women
food for gossip."
"Hang them all; our east-ender, Mrs. Snob, Ragsel, and the whole tribe,
or anyone that bothers you, Elaine."
"But, Philip, do be rational; release me from my oath; give me my
freedom; we will never be happy married, or with our engagement still
on; for she will grow bolder, and more persistent with each advance; do,
for pity's sake, free me."
"No, no; you ask too much," he said, angrily, thinking of these
comfortable quarters of which he should be master, and of the woman
beside him also.
"But see how you left me for her last night; you _must_ be fond of her."
"I am _not_, so help me God; but I could not shake her off without
making a scene."
"But just fancy, Philip; if we were married she would prowl about the
place even more than she does at present."
"It is all your own fault, Elaine, that she gives you those scares in
the evening; for she only comes when she knows I am about; if you lived
more to yourself, and did not have all these women about you, I would
come in the afternoon, like to-day; and she would be none the wiser, for
she is at work in the day and can't come."
"It is a fearful life for me."
"Be reasonable, Elaine: any man as fascinating to your sex as I am must,
of necessity, have women breaking their necks for them."
"How you amuse me," she said, smiling ironically, comparing him with
someone else.
"I don't see why; you know I speak truth," he said, innocently; "let me
come in the afternoon; don't have any one else; then, pet, she will not
see me watching to see you when your guests are gone at night; and so
you will not be troubled with her."
"But just think what a proposition you are making; she is to control our
actions."
"Yes; but only for a time, pet; she will, perhaps, tire of pursuing me;
if she had me, and you were out in the cold, I feel sure she would agree
to my proposition."
"You certainly have a most amusing way of putting things."
"I know I have; it's my large, kind heart and wish to please; and when
we are married I will both charm and amuse you."
"No, no; it will not be safe for me to marry you; for how about this
other woman; would you charm and amuse her also?"
"Just as I was in the humor; if she angered me, I would not think twice
of setting Tyr on her."
"Dinner is served, ma'am."
On repairing to the dining-room; and having done ample justice to a
substantial dinner, prepared with a view to the possible advent of the
Dales; and when the oyster soup, roast beef, with delicious vegetables,
had been removed, dessert on, and Thomas dismissed, Mr. Cobbe said, in
pleased tones:
"I must congratulate you on your cook, Elaine."
"Then you congratulate myself, Philip; for my seraph of the frying-pan
knows next to nothing of the art; I devote two hours of each day to my
culinary department."
"For which you have the thanks of your guests, and for which Bridget
will make you pay."
"Yes; I know; but they all do it; when they feel their wings, they
demand higher wages, or fly.
"When will you marry me, Elaine?" he said, lightly, as they entered the
drawing-room.
"_After all I have said, you still ask this_," she said, freeing
herself, and at her wits' end to know what to do with him, remembering
her oath; but this woman, and what revenge she may take, terrifies her.
Mr. Cobbe lights the gas; but the inside shutters must be shut; and as
she closes them, he assists her, standing so near that his cheek touches
hers.
"Don't speak to me like that, Elaine; we love each other; and hang her
for coming between us; come here, pet, and sit beside me; it is a treat
to have you all to myself."
"No; I am in no humor for a _tete-a-tete_; and the Dales may arrive at
any moment."
"Hang them; can't they go to a hotel; I dislike them; and surely you had
enough of them, and that doleful Miss Crew, while Dale went north."
"Tastes differ, Philip; I have a sincere friendship for them; as to
their coming now, most of my little friends' wardrobe is----"
Here a sharp ring at the hall door startled them.
"What! a ring; that woman will be the death of me; I tremble now, once
evening comes, at every peal of that bell."
"Beg pardon, sir; a person--a--a lady, says she is waiting to speak to
you, sir."
"Go, Philip, quick, for heaven's sake; this is dreadful," she said, in a
gasp, holding her hand to her side.
"Mr. Blair," said Thomas; and the old gold _portiere_ hangings are again
closed, and they are alone.
"Forget I am with you; don't try to speak yet," he said, kindly leading
her to a seat; "you will breathe naturally in a few minutes, you have
been startled; but it is all quiet now; your servant carefully fastened
the door; lean your head back to this cushion; there is something, after
all, in material comforts. Ah, now your color comes, and your
eyes--well," he said, smiling, yet with a grave tenderness, "your eyes
have lost their startled look, and may again weave their spells." For
she had now opened her eyes, keeping them closed so she could better
listen to his voice as he talked on, giving her time to recover that
self which in alarm had fled.
But with her nerves more quiet comes a thought which she must set at
rest. So intent on her question is she, that self-consciousness is
altogether absent, as, looking into his face, she says,
"You must be a married man; you are so good a nurse, knowing exactly
what is best for one; are you?"
"No; I was," he said, indicating, by a gesture, a mourning ring on the
third finger of his left hand.
"Forgive me; I should not have asked you so abruptly."
"I don't mind you, you don't seem a stranger; and my poor wife was an
invalid, so that her death, thirteen months ago, was not unexpected."
"No; under those circumstances, you would be more or less prepared."
"Tell me, did you deem me impertinent to turn my eyes to your face when
we have so frequently met, before our introduction?"
"No; else I should have to share in your blame; for I should not have
seen you had I not been guilty of like fault," she said, drooping her
eyes.
"Believe me, I couldna help mysel', lassie, no more than I now can help
myself coming to your house, and feeling so at home with you, as though
I had known you for years, instead of for days. Do you feel a little as
I do," he said, in his eager earnestness, turning his blue eyes full on
her face.
"I do; you will never be a stranger to me," she said, simply.
"Thank you; do you know that evening coming from the Grand, after
'Erminie;' I was in the seventh heaven after having been so near you."
"'So near, and yet so far,'" she said, smiling; "for the frowning
battlements of the conventionalities were still between us."
"Yes; but I dreamed that your pretty lace fan would waft them away,
being a woman (though, by your eyes, I feel sure a warm-hearted one);
still, you cannot know how my heart leaped when I saw that you had
forgotten your fan; my first impulse led me to follow you with it, but
Scotch second-sight suggested the means I adopted, to tell you my name.
How did you like it?"
"Very much, indeed," she said, smiling, as looking into his face half
shyly, remembering how she had pressed his card to her lips; "I love
both your names, for reasons I may tell you another time. Are you
Highland Scotch?"
"Yes; and from fair Dunkeld."
"Indeed! you must be proud of your birthplace; the scenery must be
beautiful, were it only in among your groves of trees. I love the giants
of the forest so, that I wonder in the Pagan world they have not been as
gods; now we sing,
"'Ye groves that wave in Spring,
And glorious forests sing,
Alleluia.'"
"You have a passion for trees, I see, and would surely like Dunkeld;
30,000,000 alone are said to have been planted by a Duke of Athol; we
father on to the scenery a spice of romance running through us."
"Don't try to excuse it by fathering it on to other than your own
nature; our age is too practical; but Emerson expresses my thoughts
exactly when he says 'everything but cyphering is hustled out of sight;
man asks for a novel, that is, asks leave for a few hours to be a poet.'
But, perhaps, you don't agree with me?"
"I do, or I should have a larger account at my bankers; I fear I am not
a canny Scotchman, for I have spent a good deal in giving my poor wife
and self a glimpse of the poetry of other lands."
"That was right, and kind. Do you know I think the world would be a
better place to live in if, after one had made a sufficiency, one was
compelled to give place to others, and if no credit was given in any
case."
"That, without doubt, would settle a good deal, and do away with
communism," he said, laughingly; "for there would be no large fortunes
to grab. As to no credit, I fear, until we reach Elysian fields, we
shall have failures, duns, and other fruits of the credit system," he
said, gravely.
"Do you intend remaining in Toronto?" she said, intent upon her
embroidery.
"That depends," he said, trying to read her; "don't go away; that old
gold chair, with its crimson arms, becomes you (in woman's parlance),
and brings out your warm tints."
"I should think you would admire a woman like pretty Mrs. St. Clair, as
you yourself are dark."
"Yes; she is a pretty little thing; a triumph of art though; but, if you
will allow me to say so, I admire your style; usually there is more
force of character in dark women rather than in fair."
"Yes; do you think so?"
"I do; now, for instance, there is St. Clair, miserable at the aimless
existence of his wife: she is either in hysterics or in--cosmetics."
"We hear he is insanely jealous of her."
"Rumor, as you know, dear Mrs. Grower, says more than her prayers. He
tells me he is not jealous; for he does not believe any man would be
silly enough to give him cause; but that by he or his son going about
with her, her quest for admiration is held in check."
"Oh, I see; that is the reason they attend her so closely; what a pity
we are so foolish as to throw away life happiness, and the passing of
our time in rest and quietness for the evanescent soap bubbles of a
passing hour; but it is growing late; come and see my palms in my pet
room, the library, before you go."
"Thank you;" the mere words were naught, but he looked so quietly happy,
as he drew the hangings for their exit, that the color came to her
cheeks as she remembered her oath, to as quickly fade on the clock
striking ten, and the hall bell ringing simultaneously, as a man outside
stamped the snow off his boots, impatiently saying, hurriedly, the
startled look again in her face:
"Ten o'clock; I fear I must postpone your visit to the library."
"Is there any trouble I can shield you from? if so, you have only to
command me," he said, quickly, taking her hand in good night. "No, no,
not now," she said, with a troubled look.
"Think, and tell me on New Year's Day," he said, buttoning his overcoat.
"I shook her off, Elaine," he said, impulsively, not seeing Mr. Blair,
who was rather back of the door. "Oh, I beg pardon," he continued,
sulkily. "I thought you were alone, and watching for my return."
"It is so late," she said, as Mr Blair made his exit.
"Nonsense, who was the man; I don't think it's right of you to have
gentleman visitors," he said, in aggrieved tones.
"Now, Philip, does not that sound rather absurd? and, as I have before
told you, I wish you would not come here at such a late hour; I don't
like it," she said, gravely, as they went into the dining-room, where
the usual little supper stood on a tray.
"But we are engaged, it's you who are absurd," he said, pettishly; "but
don't let us bother about it, my frosty walk has been quite an
appetizer. Did you find it long, pet, while I was away? but I forget,
you had that man here. A ring! bother."
"It is Miss Crew, who is, you know, visiting me. Excuse me a moment, I
hear Captain Tremaine's voice."
"Hang all her visitors," he muttered.
"I am glad to see you back, dear; come into the dining-room, both of
you."
"Thanks, I believe if you only had potato and point, you would offer
some one the potato."
"If so, they should thank you; for, from admiration of your hospitality,
to imitation, was but one step."
"Blarney, blarney, you might only say that to the Chinese. These oysters
are very fine, nothing like eating them off the shell."
"Just my taste; these were sent me by a friend."
"I never saw a man look more at home, than you, Cobbe; if all bachelors
looked as contentedly jolly, we would not pity you so."
"No pity for me, Tremaine, thanks. I have given many of you cause for
envy."
"He is not at all vain, Captain Tremaine," said Mrs. Gower, amusedly.
"Not for him," said Tremaine, jokingly.
"What is to be our color for 1888?"
"Orange or blue, Mrs. Gower; half the men I have met to-day say one,
half the other; opinions are divided."
"Had the other man been a green Reformer, though, I would have bet on
him," said Mr. Cobbe, buttoning on his overcoat.
"There is something in that," she said; "for some would say he would
have the Ontario Government at his back."
"So he would, and good backers they would be, too. Good-night, Elaine;
shall I see you at St. John's Church, to-morrow?" he said, in an
undertone.
"Don't ask me, after my last experience; I am going all the way to Holy
Trinity Church, with Miss Crew; but shall be at home Monday, excepting
while at the polls."
"All right, _au revoir_."
On his exit, Tremaine said, laughingly,
"Good night. If the candidates were as sure of their election as our
friend Cobbe is of his, they would sleep till Tuesday without a narcotic
or a charm from the good fairies."