"MAIR SWEET THAN I CAN TELL."
On an evening at the close of February, when the mercury has risen so
high that all nature is in a melting mood; the snowy mantle of winter
disappearing fast on the warm bosom of dear old mother earth, while
Holmnest is a very bower of love, a very haven of peace. Upstairs,
downstairs, and in my lady's chamber, everything is warm, home-like,
sweet and fresh; with dreamy, turned down lights, showing the dainty
sleeping apartment of its mistress, with its blue and white prevailing
tints, its lace bed-spread and pillow shams; its pretty feminine
adornments, with three or four pictures, and a vase of fresh flowers
giving life to its repose. But we notice in the dim and shadowy light, a
something unusual, a something different, a new element in this, the
bed-chamber of Elaine Gower; a something that makes the heart throb
faster, and a look of wonder, with a smile of content come to the face,
a something which gives a tone of strength, of completeness to this
bower of rest; it is, that here and there, one can dimly see a man's
belongings, and one remembers to have read, "it is not good for man to
be alone."
But; and we start with fear, for the inanimate cannot speak and tell us
if Mr. Cobbe has had his way, and those manly belongings are his; if so,
if so, alas!
But the kitchen says, no, as with a broad grin of content it sits over
the _debris_ of a late dinner; when, at the tinkle, tinkle of the
library bell, Thomas is away like a flash; we follow, peep in and see
Mr. Blair, reclining on a lounge, holding between his fingers a
cigarette; he forgets to smoke, a look of ineffable content and
happiness on his manly face. He has rolled the sofa over beside the
Davenport, at which sits his twin-spirit, the mistress of Holmnest, who
is within easy reach of his hand, as she sits writing. She wears a gown
_couleur de rose_, and is looking very lovable, her face transfigured
with quiet happiness. As Thomas appears, she says, in her sweet tones:
"No one is aware of our return, Thomas, so we don't expect visitors; but
in any case, we are not at home."
"Very well, ma'am."
"My bride of a week; my ain wife, my other self," he says, his heart in
his eyes, "bend down your sweet face and kiss me." Holding her in a
close embrace, he says, "and so you are not sorry that a great, rough
man like myself has crept into your bonnie Holmnest, and stolen your
heart?"
"Nay, not stolen, dearest; mine has been a willing surrender; and you
must not call yourself names in my hearing. Mine has been a very lonely
life, especially of late years; and you don't know how humble I feel at
this great happiness coming to me, or my restful content in leaning on
this strong arm."
"There is one thing to be said for me, my own wife, and that is, that no
other woman has a real or fancied right to lean on me. I have never been
a flirting man, for which I may thank my father and mother, who aye were
leal and true. What a picture they were in fair Dunkeld, going down
life's hill together; he only living after her to close her eyes. How I
wish they could have seen you, my other better self."
"Yes; it would have given me great joy to have met them; your words of
them remind me, Alec, of a dear old couple who reside in our sweet
Rosedale. A day in their home is a living idyl; to see his tender care
of her crossing the bridge into Bloor street, is a life lesson; I used
to liken you and your wee lost wife to them, dear. I must tell you of an
incident that attracted me to Mr. Smyth more than years of acquaintance.
Prior to an illness of his wife, she had a photo taken at Gagen and
Fraser's. On her recovery we were comparing it with a previous one, when
he said, 'I like one I have better than either of them.' His wife,
looking amazed, said, 'What one, Will?' while I said, 'Show it to us.'
He answered, 'This one,' encircling her in his arms."
"Only what he should have done, darling. Each for the other, shall be
our motto; but must you write Mrs. Dale to-night?"
"Yes, dear; just fancy how eager she must be to hear, as they were
called away so suddenly, and they are such faithful friends. Shall I
hand you the evening papers to look at while I write, dearest?"
"No, thanks; I shall look at my wife's face instead."
"HOLMNEST, TORONTO,
"Feb. 28th, 1888.
"MY DEAR ELLA,
"We only returned home to-day; but as we, with Pearl, leave for
Jacksonville on to-morrow, I must do myself the pleasure of a
one-sided written chat with you to-night. My pre-arranged plan
is to be carried out; but with what a light heart do I carry it
out as Elaine Blair--is it not a pretty name. But lest you
think me insane at my age, I shall not go into raptures over my
name, or my loving life companion, who has given it me.
"I have so much to say, that I am in a quandary what to begin
with.
"The day after you left we went down quietly to the early
morning Lenten service, and at its close were married by my
good pastor, leaving the same day for Niagara. You remember I
used to say in jest, that to make a marriage legal, we
Torontonians must go thither! so Alec and I are fast bound;
thank God for His goodness. How little I dreamed of this two
weeks ago. Your good husband has worked a miracle in obtaining
my release from Philip; I cannot but think I have been bought
out of that regiment; what different colors I am under now;
poor Philip. His letter to me, in freeing me, is so truly
characteristic of the man, that I shall amuse you with a line
or two:
'"...in releasing you from your oath to be my wife, I repeat
that you will long for me once and forever! I am sorry for you,
Elaine, for I am the only man to make you happy. If you marry
that cowardly fellow who has run me out, take my advice, and
have the knot tied loosely in the States, for I prophesy you
will want a divorce before a year has elapsed; and then, as I
bear you no malice, you have only got into bad hands; send for
me, even then, and I shall give up every other woman admirer
for you....' Is it not typical of Philip? Poor fellow; he
little dreams of my restful content at the steadfast, manly
heart I have won. He came in the afternoon of the day you left;
though, you are aware, your husband had handed me his letter
releasing me the evening previous; but he came to try and
persuade me to destroy it, waxing eloquent over _my folly_, and
his regret for me and himself. Pretty Mrs. St. Clair calling
while he was here, they left together. I again thought how well
matched they would have been; she amused me--but I must tell
you.
"You remember, we read in a city newspaper that a man suggested
as a rabbit exterminator, fashion should decree that the ears
of the aforesaid animal should be used in some manner of
feminine adornment; but Mrs. St. Clair solved the problem of
extermination; and if she and other leaders of fashion push it,
the rabbit is a doomed creature.
"While the attention of Philip was momentarily given to Mrs.
Tremaine and Miss Hall, she purred.
"'Oh, Mrs. Gower, I do want a rabbit's paw more than anything
else in the world.'
"'A rabbit's paw! what for?'
"'To put my rouge on with, it's just the cutest thing out, for
that. Do you paint, Mrs. Gower?'
"I fancy I see your lip curl, and Alec asks me what I am
smiling at. I tell him above, on the rabbit; and that my smile
is the reflection of the laugh in your Irish eyes. He says I
don't punctuate often enough to let him kiss me. Give me credit
for a little sanity yet, Ella, for I know how foolish this
sounds; but our great happiness is so dazzling after our dark
days of despair, that I dare say we are a little daft.
"And now, for a startling bit of news that I have been trying
to keep for the last--but it won't wait--a telegram arrived
here yesterday for Charlie Cole, from Grand Central Hotel, New
York City, from Mr. Stone, running thus:
"'C. BABBINGTON-COLE, Esq.,
"'Your wife, Mrs. Cole, died suddenly of malignant
sore throat, on the twenty-fifth, and was buried same
evening.
"'TIMOTHY STONE.'
"The first thing on our arrival this a.m., Alec wired the
information to the Tremont Hotel, Jacksonville, to Charlie. And
so death has stepped in, freeing him from an unhappy union,
Pearl is not as yet aware of this; but we shall tell her on her
coming over from the O'Sullivan's to-morrow. When we reach
Jacksonville, she can procure the usual black robes.
"It appears that Mr. Stone has actually rented an office here,
in which he will carry on the real estate business. We are
informed that he and his late niece lived here some time ago,
for a few years. A gentleman from the Grand Central, tells Mr.
Smyth that Mr. Stone boasts of his large and influential
connection here. And so, though some of our smart Central Bank
men have skipped the line, we gain one that caps them all, in
Timothy Stone.
"And now, to a brighter theme, our firm of Dale, Buckingham &
Blair, with my ain dearie as manager of our Toronto branch.
Graham & Graham tell Alec the agreement is drawn. Will do
business on the square in mineral lands, and should get a bonus
from the city, for no one heretofore has known where to place
or purchase properties of this kind. And so we had better set
our chant to music, and sing to 'dream-faces'--
Oxides of Iron 66.28
Silica 21.20
Alumina 3.70
Lime 5.04
Magnesia 2.19
"Were you not glad to hear that Silas Jones is to be in charge
of the office while we are away, and head clerk afterwards? I
tell you, Ella, dear, when I think of winging our flight south
together, thence to the Old World, in which fair Dunkeld stands
out the brightest spot, I am half wild with joy. Barlow
Cumberland, I am sure, thought me more than a little off when
we were in buying our tickets.
"I verily believe I am growing egotistical; in all this letter,
who has been foremost--self?
"Madame de Sevigne was right: 'One loves to talk of one's self
so much, that one never tires of _tete-a-tete_ with a lover for
years. This is the reason a devotee likes to be with her
confessor; it is for the pleasure of talking of one's
self--even though talking evil.'
"But should we meet at New York on our way south, I shall talk
of nothing but your own dear selves, and Pearl will bring you
news of Garfield; whom, I feel sure, she has seen every day during
your absence.
"Thomas and Begonia (in days of yore, Bridget) will have
everything snug for you any day you come. All our world seems
so in couples linked, that though he is but sixteen, and she
forty, I shall not be surprised to find them buckled, too.
"Times are changed, dear. I never even think of chains, bolts,
or shutters. No more nervous evenings; no more starts at the
bell; no more heart-aches; but arms leal and true to shield me,
a heart fond and loving, all my own. Ella, Ella, with my faulty
nature, I ask myself, am I deserving of this great happiness?
"My dear husband is bending over me; but lest you deem him a
flatterer, I must not tell you his words he bids me tell you;
but no, he must say it himself. But he has taken away the ink
bottle, lest I burn the midnight oil. One says of Aspasia,
writing in ancient days of her Pericles, that 'happy is the man
who comes last, and alone, into the warm and secret foldings of
a letter.' And so the name of my dear husband, Alec Blair,
comes here, Ella, dear, and I say good-night to you as he holds
me in his arms, his eyes, with love's steadfast gaze, resting
on my face.
"From your happy friend,
"Elaine,
"Who is affectionately and
"abundantly yours.
"To Mrs. Dale, c/o Henry Dale, Esq.,
"Hoffman House, New York City."
End of Project Gutenberg's A Romance of Toronto, by Annie Gregg Savigny