"HERE AWA', THERE AWA'."
The following is an ideal Canadian winter day; the sky, a far-off canopy
of brightest blue, with no clouds to obscure the sunbeams, which pour
down on fair Toronto, melting the icicles when his smiles are warmest,
and gladdening the hearts of the million. There is just enough of frost
in the air to make a walk to town pleasant, cheering and exhilarating,
so that Mrs. Dale is glad when Mrs. Gower proposes their going. The
whole city seems to have turned out, and the streets are alive with the
busy hum of life, and the tinkling music of the merry sleigh-bells.
Mrs. Gower, who had slept little, arose with the determination to appear
reconciled to her fate, not wishing to add to the sorrow of Mr. Blair
and Mrs. Dale, on her account; feeling that there will be time enough to
give way, when "large lengths of miles" divide them. She cannot bear to
dwell upon the separation, she has decided, is for the best, and dreads
to think of her heart loneliness, with Mr. Blair gone out of her life,
and the sympathy of Mrs. Dale, not beside her. How she will miss her
quiet talks with him, his manly advice and interest in all her acts, the
oneness of their views on many questions of the day--religious, social,
and in part political. The Tremaines and Smyths also; with her many
favorite walks and resorts, the public library, and other places of
interest. Yes, to leave them all and her snug Holmnest, is hard; but to
go on in the way events have shaped themselves--Mr. Cobbe, a privileged
visitor, as her future husband; the woman haunting her home; her misery,
seeing daily the grief telling on Mr. Blair would be harder still; so,
nerving herself for the parting, she determines on making her
preparations at once.
No one meeting the friends, as they walk into town, would imagine that
the dusky shadow of sorrow sits in each heart; the pretty little face of
Mrs. Dale being set off by a bonnet, with pink feathers, her seal coat
and muff making her warm and comfortable. Mrs. Gower, in a heavy dark
blue gown, short dolman boa and muff of the bear; a pretty little bonnet
blending with her gown, the glow of heat from exercise lending color to
her cheeks. Down busy Yonge street to Eaton's; Trowern's, with Mrs.
Dale's watch; thence to gay King Street, to Murray's, Nordheimer's, the
Public Library, back again West, and to Coleman's for a cup of coffee,
are all done; at the latter place they run across Mrs. St. Clair with
Miss Hall.
"Oh, you two dear pets, I am so awfully glad to have met you," says
pretty Mrs. St. Clair, effusively; "I want to know when you can talk
over a programme with me--tableaux, readings, etc., in aid of the debt
on our church. Say when?"
"I really cannot, Mrs. St. Clair," said Mrs. Gower; "just at present I
am very busy, and am daily expecting a small house party."
"Dear, dear! that is too bad; what shall I do; you are so smart, and
would know just what would take. You will talk it over with me, Mrs.
Dale," she said, beseechingly.
"No, thank you; on principle, I object."
"How funny! might I ask why?"
"Certainly. I think offerings to such an object as a church debt should
be voluntary."
"But, Mrs. Dale, people expect a little treat for their money."
"They have, or we have, the church service, and the ministrations of the
clergyman."
"That's just the way Mr. St. Clair damps my ardor," she says, poutingly;
"I do so want to pose as Mary Stuart. Mr. Cobbe says I'd look too sweet
for anything; you won't be jealous, Mrs. Gower."
"Oh, fearfully so; but joking apart; how do you think he would pose as
Bunthorn?"
"I see you are laughing at him, Mrs. Gower?"
"Not at all; the twenty forlorn ones would keep him in good humor, and
the bee in his crown would be a safety valve for his restlessness."
"No, no; I would not like that, and I wonder you, above all, would
propose it; for the whole twenty would fall in love with him, he is so
fascinating; don't you think so, Miss Hall?"
"Yes; but it would be good fun; you cawn't do bettah, Mrs. St. Clair."
"It has my vote, too," said Mrs. Dale, as she and her friend wish them
good morning.
"What a well-matched couple Mrs. St. Clair and Philip would have made,"
says Mrs. Gower, as they go east to Yonge street.
"Yes, I have thought that before to-day, Elaine; it's a pity to spoil
two houses with them."
Here they come across Mrs. Smyth waiting for a Spadina Avenue car.
"Oh, Mrs. Gower, who do you think I have just seen?"
"Perhaps our mutual friend Charlie Cole," she answered, smiling.
"Well, you are smart, to guess exactly; have you seen them? Isn't she
frightfully ugly?" she says, in one breath.
"No, I have not seen them. What a pity she is not pretty. I received a
letter from Charlie, saying to expect them."
"Oh, you sly thing; why didn't you let us know? Oh, how ugly she is! May
we come round this evening? Here is my car."
"Certainly. We have been to your husband's office to invite you."
"Thanks. O!" she cried, stepping on to the car. "Will gave me a new
piano yesterday."
"Whose make?"
"Ruse's, Temple of Music, over there."
"I congratulate you." As they walked on she continued, absently, "What a
pity she is plain looking."
"Who; not Mrs. Smyth?"
"Oh, no, Ella; her animation will always make her pretty. I was thinking
of Charlie Cole's wife. I wonder where she saw them?"
"Oh, somewhere in town, I suppose. So you expected them to-day."
"Yes, and I would have told you, but I want their advent to be a
surprise for Miss Crew, whom I have frequently found secretly studying
Charlie Cole's photo. She is so guardedly reticent, that I am curious to
see if suddenly confronting him will cause her to show any interest in
the original of the photo."
"But you should make sure of her, Elaine. She may remain at the
O'Sullivans; and as I own to taking an interest in human bric-a-brac, I
hope you will call for her."
"I fancy she will return for certain, as she tells me the couple we met
on New Year's Day are coming to Holmnest this afternoon; the woman,
quite a lady-like looking person, is to alter her black silk; but we
shall call on our way home for her."
"Yes, that will be best, and here is our car; but it is too crowded. As
members of the Humane Society we had better wait for the next."
As they wait in front of the Dominion Bank, Mr. Cobbe joins them.
"Good morning, ladies; won't you turn west, and have a promenade,
Elaine?"
"No, thank you. Time has gone too fast for us already."
"O, pshaw! I want to speak to you. When do you return to New York, Mrs.
Dale?" he says pointedly; disliking her, and feeling freer at Holmnest
in her absence.
"I have not the remotest idea, Mr. Cobbe, indeed," she added, in return
for his; "we may take dear little Holmnest off Mrs. Gower's hands if she
carries out her present intention to leave Canada for a time."
"Leave Canada!" he exclaims, flushing.
"Please, stop the car, Philip, quick."
"What does it mean, Elaine?" he whispers, seeing them on board; but the
bell rings, and off they go. Two yards distant, and he calls out, "I
shall be up after office hours."
"Talk of cruelty to animals. I gave him a blow, but he richly deserves
it. But I do believe, Elaine, you are sorry for him," she says in
amazement, and under cover of the noise of travel.
"I am. He is his worst enemy. Yes, I am sorry for his weak, vain nature.
A man without stability of character, in our stirring times, is of no
more account than are the soap-bubbles blown by a little child."
Getting out of the car at Webb's, to leave an order, they there meet
Miss O'Sullivan, who, with her own bright smile, comes forward quickly
to shake hands.
"Oh, Mrs. Gower, I am so glad to see you. I have something to tell you.
Miss Crew left our place for Holmnest at ten this a.m., and I have her
promise to tell Mr. Dale her history, and ask his advice."
"I am glad of that, dear."
"Oh, so am I, she is such a darling; but I was not satisfied to have her
without some good gentleman friend to advise her."
"Has she confided in yourself?"
"Yes, Mrs. Dale; but not until last night."
"Was it sensational enough to keep you awake, or, as I suppose, of no
more interest than 'little Johnny Horner sitting in the corner eating
his Christmas pie?'"
"You see, dear, Mrs. Dale is disgusted with Mother Goose for not telling
us of his bilious attack," laughed Mrs. Gower. "Good bye, dear, here is
our car, College and Spadina Avenue."
"You will not be disappointed in Miss Crew's story, Mrs. Dale. The
bilious part is not omitted; poor dear, I am so sorry for her."
On reaching Holmnest they find Mr. Dale, who has returned from the
North-West, and Miss Crew, in the library.
Mrs. Gower, not pretending to notice that the latter has been in tears,
and to give her an excuse to make her exit, asks her to carry her wraps
upstairs for her; and then to go and give them some music during the few
minutes before luncheon.
"Mrs. Gower is taking better care of you, little wife, than you are of
her, now that the roses from the frosty air are fading. I notice she is
paler and thinner."
"Don't blame me, Henry," she answered, stroking his whiskers; "blame Mr.
Cobbe. I declare to you both, I never name him without doubling my
fists."
"My impression has always been, dear Mrs. Gower, that he will be no
companion for you in the hand-in-hand journey through life."
"Yes; but you are not cognizant of certain facts which has led to our
being in our present relation towards each other," she says, gravely;
"and of which we must tell you, perhaps to-morrow. We have enough on for
to-day, and there is the luncheon bell, come."
"Oh, Henry, do you know that the Coles are expected here to-day, and
have you told Miss Crew? because, don't," she whispered hurriedly.
"No; I thought it as well not to," he said, in constrained tones,
adding, "she has been telling me her sad story, poor girl; which you and
Mrs. Gower will know shortly, little woman."