THE THREE LINKS.
On a cold afternoon, in January's third week, when fair Toronto's
children wore the colors of Old Boreas; when the spirits of the air
floated on the frozen breaths of humanity, and when imagination held
that the giant cyclone of the North-west had hurled into our midst a bit
of the North Pole, on such a day Holmnest is a snug spot; not one of
those mansions with a small coal account that some of our moneyed
citizens exist in in cold grandeur during winter's reign; but small,
warm and home-like. So thought Mrs. Dale, who is again spending a few
days with her friend, and who is now seated with Mr. Blair beside the
glowing grate in the drawing-room; he cannot keep away, and having
confided his hopes and fears to her, they have become warm friends.
Mrs. Gower and Miss Crew are down town shopping, the latter having
abandoned her intention to seek employment other than her voluntary
deeds of good as a city missioner, she having received a bill of
exchange from the mother country on the Bank of British North America;
whether from this cause or from the fact of her constant visits to the
quietly happy-looking couple she had met on New Year's Day, her friends
can only guess; but she is certainly looking happier, though still
reticent as to her private history, merely telling Mrs. Gower, to whom
she has become much attached, that before long she will ask their
advice, and tell them all.
Mr. Cobbe has just called, but had not gone in, ascertaining from Thomas
that his mistress was not at home, but that Mrs. Dale and Mr. Blair were
in the drawing-room--he volunteering the latter information, instinct
telling him it would not be agreeable; for the kitchen did not approve
of him as the coming master at Holmnest, saying one to the other,
"Pretty fly he is, to think of dividing up of the likes of he between
our missis and that bold hussy as follows him."
At this moment, in the drawing-room, Mrs. Dale, as she alternately pats
Tyr's head, or, with deft fingers, embroiders a cushion, says, with a
curl on her scarlet lips, her Irish eyes flashing:
"I am glad Elaine was out. You see, he knew enough not to come in and be
entertained by us."
"Yes, he knows enough for that," he said, mechanically, waking from a
reverie. "I wish to heaven we could interview the woman. I am convinced
we would elicit information sufficient to absolve our dear friend from
her oath. I am driven to my wit's end, I am in such misery. I can assure
you, Mrs. Dale, this matter has taken such hold of me that I neither
eat, drink, sleep, nor even think naturally."
And the ring of truth is in his words, as he starts up, and paces up and
down the room like a caged lion, eager for action, yet compelled to
inactivity. Papers and magazines strew the carpet where he had been
seated, on which he had in vain tried to fix his thought. Now he again
flings himself into his chair, she sees his brows knit, his eyes small
with the intentness of inward musing; his manly, independent bearing is
crushed, his firm, determined mouth is still set with a fixed purpose,
but his face has lost its glow of happiness.
He haunts Holmnest some hours of each day, his eyes following her every
movement as she goes about her home duties, or sits quietly reading, or
holding book or newspaper, under pretence of doing so, giving herself a
few moments' silent thought, ever and anon lifting her eyes to his face,
as quickly to withdraw them, lest sympathy lead her to betray a grief
akin to his. One day he asked her how it was she had come in the first
place to allow Mr. Cobbe the privilege of friendly intercourse, when she
told him all. Of the deaths of loved ones, of her long and tedious law
suits, of her losses through the wrong-doings of others, of the flight
of summer friends, of her difficulty in earning a sufficiency to eke out
her small income, and of Philip Cobbe being introduced; when his jovial,
free-from-care nature diverting her attention from her many cares, she
and he gradually drifted into a very friendly acquaintance, which
resulted in their walk through the Queen's Park. Of her oath she had
already told him on the 3rd of January, on his relating to her the
boastful words of Mr. Cobbe on the evening previous. At which he had
been driven nearly desperate, as also on her resolve that, in honor
bound, she must be true to her oath.
She had never allowed him to kiss her since those few blissful moments
that lived in the memory of each, in which he had asked her to become
his wife on Monday, the 2nd of January, and when he had read her heart.
"It's a miserable fix for Elaine," said Mrs. Dale, picking out a few
false stitches she had made in giving her attention to him as he paced
the floor in his agony of mind. "She cares for you, but will remain true
to her oath; she will go on in this wretched way, Mr. Cobbe coming and
going, boasting of his engagement, to keep rivals at bay, and that woman
haunting the place until a tragedy ends the whole farce. Elaine will
postpone and postpone her union with that man until she dies
broken-hearted, poor thing. She has had no end of trouble in the past,
and now this must all crop up. Nasty Cobbe; I _hate_ you," she said,
emphatically.
"So do I," he said, moodily; "but what availeth it? We, with our strong
natures, are as wax in the hands of this vain, foolish, empty-headed
fellow; he has the whip-hand of us. I never felt small, impotent,
powerless in my life until now. You don't know what mad thoughts come to
me sometimes, when I see her going about in her sweet womanliness with a
pretence of gaiety lest I feel for her, making this truly home, sweet
home; now going to her kitchen, now sewing quietly; again singing,
though in unsteady tones, the songs of my own land."
"Perhaps it would be better for you; easier, I mean, if you kept away
from her."
"Kept away! that's what she tells me. No; come I must. I am not fit to
attend to business, to face the busy hive of men down town. I have not
as yet rented an office, or put out my shingle as broker and estate
agent, so the world which knows me not does not miss me. Did I not come,
I should be tortured by the thought that Cobbe had persuaded her to
marry him, and that with the false hope of making me forget her, and the
woman to give up her game as lost, she would consent. No; I shall come
in the seemingly aimless way; but not aimless, for I am her bodyguard.
Already my being here, and holding my ground, has more than once
prevented a _tete-a-tete_, and saved her from (I make no doubt) his
hateful caresses. He hates me, and would revenge himself upon me if he
could; and, insomuch as he can, he does do so--by using her Christian
name, leaning familiarly over her shoulder as she reads or sews,
following her even to the kitchen. Once he dared to kiss her good-bye,
but I don't think he will try that again; for, on his looking at me
maliciously, to note my jealousy, I gave him one look, at which he made
a hasty exit."
"So far so good, Mr. Blair; but you and myself are really doing nothing
to free Elaine. We _must_ get a hold of the woman; she is not very well
clad; is, I dare say, poor; I shall try if the dollar will grease the
wheels of her tongue. Now, how shall we manage it? This evening I shall
express a wish to telegraph Henry. You must offer to accompany me; this
will allow of time to work on Mr. Cobbe's Mary Ann. We shall walk up and
down on the other side of the street (thus putting ourselves in Grundy's
mouth) until she appears, when, pouncing upon her, we will _make_ her
tell her relations to Cobbe. You understand?"
"Yes, but he will be here alone with Elaine."
"Just like a man: as jealous as a rooster in a barnyard. Miss Crew will
be here, and chance callers."
"Very well; it shall be as you say, though I mortally hate not being
present when he is here; but here she comes, her cheeks like roses, and
eyes bright from the frosty air," he said, brightening.
"Oh, you pair of fire-worshippers!" she exclaimed, giving her hand to
Mr. Blair. "I have had a glorious walk from Yonge, through Bloor west,
and up here. We took the Yonge up-cars, when Miss O'Sullivan, who was
one of us, carried off Miss Crew till to-morrow."
"I suppose King Street wore its usual afternoon dress of dudes and
sealskin sacques," he said, drawing her wrap from her shoulders.
"I suppose so; but we only went as far as Roche's. What a world of a
place it is. Mrs. Francis says, 'One can buy everything but butcher's
meat there,' and she is about right. The up-cars were, as usual,
over-crowded; we were to blame for taking one, I suppose, as so many
poor fatigued-looking men were obliged to stand. However, we were sorry
for them in a practical way, for we only occupied one seat by turns; the
company should run extra cars about six, or label them, 'For men only.'"
"On the other side," said Mrs. Dale, "men say it's a poor rule that
won't work both ways, so, as we advocate equal rights, they, as a rule,
don't yield their seats."
"Is that so?" said Blair. "I wonder at that, for Mrs. Gower tells me
there is a shrine to woman in every house."
"Oh, never mind her, she is our champion, fights and wins our battles. I
used to hope she would marry among us, and strut under our big bird; but
alas, she sees more beauty in a common Scotch thistle," she says,
teasingly.
Blair smiled, gravely, saying with his eyes on Mrs. Gower, in her
pretty, dark blue gown, with broken plaid over-skirt,
"I fear not; to the shamrock she plights her troth."
At this the color rushes to the roots of her hair, to as quickly recede,
leaving her like marble, and, gathering up her wraps, saying, in
unsteady tones,
"Excuse me a moment, I must see what the kitchen is about: it is near
dinner time."
Blair, drawing the hangings, said, wistfully following her into the
hall:
"Forgive me, dear."
"I must, when you look so sorry; but, that compulsory oath is killing
me, Alec; driving me into heart disease," she said, tremblingly.
"My darling! is it possible? but I can see it. Your heart is fairly
jumping, your hands cold, your nails blue; come in here for a few
minutes' quiet," he said, sorrowfully, leading her into the library,
taking her wraps from her, seating himself quietly beside her, simply
taking her hands, while whispering soothing words. His own heart
breaking the while, that he may not take her in his arms; but with her
breath coming in gasps, the excitement would have killed her, even did
she permit any demonstration of feeling from him, which indeed, she had
unconditionally forbidden.
On the dinner-bell ringing, she said, in low tones:
"You are nice, and good, and kind to have talked to me so quietly until
I recovered the use of my tongue. You see, dear, I can give it a rest
sometimes; now come for Ella, to our dish of roast beef and Yorkshire
pudding. Don't look so grave, Alec; 'Richard is himself again.' I wish
you would go away for a time, leave the city; as you have not commenced
business actively, really got into harness, you could easily do so; it
would be easier for me, I think, if I did not see you," she said, almost
breaking down.
"I cannot," he said, looking into her face gravely; "and it would not
help you; all I can manage, is to keep to the conditions you made: that
in coming I must not speak of my love for you; and you must own, dear,
that I fulfil those conditions; holding myself continually in check,
curbing my feelings, never outwardly letting loose the reins of passion,
even when I see that man hanging about you."
"Yes, you are very good; but still, I--oh, I don't know what to say or
do," she said, in anguish, covering her face with her hands; then, by a
violent effort controlling herself, took her place at table.
During dinner, she was pale and flushed, talkative and silent, by turns;
her companion keeping the ball moving to give her a rest.
Oh their returning to the drawing-room, Mrs. Dale gave them some music,
thus giving each time for quiet thought. The sweet sounds suddenly
ceasing, she wheels round on the piano-stool, saying, energetically,
"I feel restless this evening, active exercise will cure me; a brisk
walk down street, or even the toboggan-slide."
But Mr. Blair does not take her up, and sits with averted eyes, not
thinking Mrs. Gower well enough to be left with Mr. Cobbe.
"Well, Ella, Mr. Blair is too gallant not to accompany you. You will
both go; when I tell you that I wish to see Philip _alone_, I am going
to again appeal to him."
"I am afraid it will be too much for you, Elaine, perhaps," she said,
hesitatingly, for she does not like to give up her plan; "perhaps Mr.
Blair ought to stay, he need not be in the very same room with you."
"Yes, that is a good idea; I shall go to the library," he said, in
relieved tones.
"No, dears, you will both do as I wish. With the knowledge that I am
alone, I shall doubly nerve myself to the task."
For she dreads that Mr. Cobbe's excitable temper will give way, causing
a scene.
"Well, if you are going to talk to him, Elaine, tell him everything; and
that Mr. Blair and I say he is breaking your heart."
"I fear, Ella, your united opinions would have little weight with him,"
she said, with the ghost of a smile; "but I shall tell him _all_, never
fear," she said, earnestly feeling that Mr. Blair was, as usual,
following her every word. "Never fear, I shall be a good pleader, for I
have my life's happiness at stake; away with you at once, and don't come
back with broken bones from the slide."