MRS. MONTGOMERY'S IDEAS OF SOCIETY, ETC.
Next morning Mr. Verne was astir at a very early hour. The rest of
the household apparently wrapped in deep slumber, while the wearied
man of business sat at his desk, his features fixed and immovable as
the bronze productions of the inimitable Lysippus who had won the
favor of the Great Alexander.
Scratch! scratch! scratch! went the pen over the lines with
inconceivable rapidity, the writer occasionally glancing over his
left arm at the document he was copying. The tortoise-shell cat sat
at her master's feet with an air of self-importance and a look which
seemed to say, "woe be to him who dare to drive me hence."
But there was another within the walls of Sunnybank who was also
awake--Mrs. Montgomery.
She leaned on the side of her couch and listened to the faint sound
that at intervals came from the office: "Well, well; what will be
the end God alone knows! Matilda Verne, you will one day see the
fruits of your folly and taste them in all their bitterness!"
"I must divert him from such work. It is killing the man by inches;
surely there is some way out of the difficulty--where there's a will
there's a way.'"
Mrs. Montgomery said the last words with a will--aye, with the
spirit of a Leonidas, and hastily arranging her toilet descended to
the silent, deserted parlors. She evinced no surprise when
confronted by Mr. Verne. She had been calmly awaiting his presence.
"It is too early for you to be astir, Hester. I would think you
might take things easy when you could. I'm sure there's nothing to
get you up here--no milking and farm work as at 'Gladswood.'"
"It's second nature with me and I can't help it any more than you
can help getting up with the sun and poring over those tedious
papers; Stephen, I would think you ought to get sick of such work."
"So I do, Hester, but I must not let myself feel so; there may be an
end far too soon."
"Stephen you are getting a monomaniac on these things. I tell you
what it is if William Montgomery were in your shoes he would not
last a week. Thank God, he is a farmer--there's no life like it."
"True, indeed, Hester; I wish I had become a sturdy yeoman before I
gave myself up to this business. Ah! it's nothing but uncertainty."
"Listen to me Stephen; the quiet of the hour prompts me to say
something which I have been thinking of for some time past--it is of
Mr. Lawson."
"Yes," said Mr. Verne, in a manner that seemed to say that he knew
what was coming, "he is a worthy young man!"
"Worthy, did you say, Stephen? There is no words in the English
language sufficient to speak his praise. He is a man such as the
Creator premeditated before the world rose out of chaos--a man in
the true image of his Maker!"
Could Phillip Lawson then have looked upon this woman as she sat
there and spoke such holy thoughts--how simple and yet how
eloquent--could he then have heard the tenderhearted matron plead
for him what a flood of gratitude would have welled out from his
honest heart!
"I have invited Phillip Lawson to 'Gladswood' purposely to study him
through and through, and each time I find something nobler in him to
admire."
"I believe it," said Mr. Verne, gravely.
"Then pledge yourself with me to bestow upon him all that can give
him the only earthly happiness he desires. Stephen, you are not
blind--you know he loves your child--make the way brighter for him--
give him your confidence, your encouragement, and before a
twelvemonth has passed away you will be happier, Madge will be
happier, and Phillip Lawson will bless you while he lives!"
Mr. Verne turned uneasily in his chair. He felt somewhat guilty of
not seeking the young man's confidence the previous evening when he
made allusion to Marguerite.
"Stephen, I'm no fool; I can sometimes see more than some people
would like me to see--but I care little for people's opinions," said
Mrs. Montgomery in a defiant mood, "I am here to say what I think is
right--I care for nobody."
"I know that the young man admires Madge, but we have proof of
nothing further."
"You surely cannot say _that_, Stephen, and note the interest
which Mr. Lawson takes in your affairs. Ah, we women can see you men
through and through--you don't mean what you say."
It did not take much persuasion to gain Mr. Verne as an ally to the
cause so dear to the woman's heart.
Now what suggestions Mrs. Montgomery made to her brother-in-law and
his acquiescence, the whole-hearted management and cleverness, also
delicacy of plans, we do not care to reveal, suffice to say, that
the plans were matured and put into execution from that hour, and
that there were those who lived to thank Mrs. Montgomery with all
the fervor of their hearts.
Mr. Verne was indeed happier from the light-hearted manner in which
Mrs. Montgomery strove to entertain him and relieve the monotony of
his busy life. "Sunnybank" had been closed from society for several
months. No guests desecrated the stillness of the deserted
drawing-room, and save the occasional calls of a few business men,
"all around was quietness."
"I will make a change," said Mrs. Montgomery, and a change was made.
Phillip Lawson found time to drop in two or three evenings of the
week, and when the gentlemen were engaged over their game of chess,
there would suddenly steal upon their senses a fragrance that
portended hot delicious coffee, not to speak of the choice rolls and
delicate cheesecake.
Mr. Lawson was truly at home in Mrs. Montgomery's society. He
admired her independent spirit and correct judgment as to what
should constitute society in its wholesome state; he listened with
eagerness to her exposition of the shame and rottenness of good form
and the consequent evils arising from them.
One evening they were enjoying the refreshing breeze that stirred
the leafy shrubberies at "Sunnybank." Coolness reigned everywhere,
within and without. The halls were redolent with heliotrope, and
breath of roses, the hour was inviting and the conversation was
spirited.
Mrs. Montgomery, clad in her silken gown, was indeed fitted to pass
close criticism. She was sensible looking, neat and respectable, and
her genial warmth of manner formed no secondary consideration.
"It is disgraceful to society to tolerate it," said Mrs. Montgomery.
"I should like to see a girl of mine receive attention from such a
man, and to think of his going to Mrs. M.'s company utterly
incapable. Had I been there I would have insulted him before the
company."
"It is just as well that you were not," said Mr. Verne, smiling.
"We country people are verdant, Stephen, but thank heaven we escape
your _good-form_ style that is ruinous both to body and soul,"
said Mrs. Montgomery with considerable vehemence. "Our young women
are educated to a sense of their position, and to demand that
respect which they ought. Ugh! just for one moment imagine a young
man of loose immoral habits seated in _our_ parlor. Why the
very thought of it makes one sicken with disgust."
"Hester, if we had a few such women as you there would be a sweeping
moral reform throughout our land," said Mr. Verne, vehemently. "Yes,
we would have such a wholesome state of things as would entail a
world of happiness to succeeding generations."
"I tell you one thing, Stephen, there would be no living beyond
one's means; neither this abominable keeping up of appearances,
which has possessed two-thirds of our people, and which is the cause
of nearly all the misery and degradation that we hear of every day
of our lives--and those mothers and daughters will be held
responsible for the souls of the suicides who were goaded to the
rash deed by their doings! Yes, Stephen, I say it, and hold to it,
that it is our women who are at the root and bottom of these
horrible misdeeds."
"It is true in a great measure, Hester," said Mr. Verne, his face
betraying evident emotion--his voice strange and his manner
altogether changed.
Mrs. Montgomery's words had a powerful effect. They took deeper root
than she intended and the woman felt a strange misgiving at her
heart. "What if he might seek refuge in such," thought she, and a
feeling of revulsion passed through her which was in nowise
comforting.
Mr. Verne seemed to anticipate her thoughts. "It is an unpleasant
subject, and can do little good for either," said he, trying to
force a smile.
"Yes, Stephen; I can bear your reproof, for I am too hot-headed. I
need a strong pull in the opposite direction to set me right."
The sound of domestics astir suggested employment, and Mrs.
Montgomery set forth to superintend affairs with more concern than
the real mistress. In fact, there had been a sad want of attention
to matters in general. There was an apparent lack of system and good
management that only such an one as Mrs. Montgomery could set right.
"I want you to do it this way," was her order, and it was done.
An untidy chambermaid had been dismissed, and the cook was given her
choice to retrench in the enormous waste or find a new field for
such extravagance.
It was indeed surprising what a change had been wrought during Mrs.
Montgomery's first week at "Sunnybank."
"And to think of her coming from such charitable motives. The woman
is a host in herself." Such was Mr. Verne's comment as he began to
see how affairs were managed on the reconstruction plan, when even
the parlor seemed to admit the beneficial change.
"I shall have to attend a meeting of the Board of Trade this
evening; and thinking it would be dull here, I asked Mr. Lawson to
come in and bring Lottie. You know the poor child idolizes him, and
it is a shame to keep him from her."
"How kind of you, Stephen. I shall be delighted to see Lottie; she
is a sweet child. It really does me good to see the young man pet
his little charge and minister to her wants with the delicacy of a
woman. I tell you there are few men that will compare with Phillip
Lawson."
Mrs. Montgomery was determined that she would let no opportunity
escape when she could say a word in her friend's praise. "They will
thank me one day for it," said she to herself, as she turned
leisurely towards a pot of heliotrope and stood inhaling the sweet
fragrance.
"The Board of Trade to-night. No rest for the overwrought brain!
What a pity that our women, Instead of decking themselves out for
hours before a life-sized mirror, and when arrayed like peacocks
amble into drawing-rooms or conservatories to listen for so many
hours to the idiotic, half-formed expressions of the semi-monkeys
who answer to the fashionable appellation of dudes, should not give
themselves some fit employment. Oh, dear me! thank Heaven I'm not a
society woman, and still better, that none of my family can lay
claim to the title."
As Mrs. Montgomery made the last part of her remark, she thought of
her first-born, the sweet, but bright-spirited Jennie, who was
always ready for fun and amusement and never was happier than when
administering to the wants of her fellow creatures.
Jennie Montgomery was also a maiden of sound intellectual ability.
Her fund of reading was extensive. She never allowed a day to pass
without devoting two hours to good solid reading. Pope was a
constant friend, as was also Wordsworth, and few could give a better
exposition of the mental depth of this metaphysical poet, his
self-knowledge and his keen realization of the depth of such
knowledge.
But of the expected guests. It was indeed a red-letter day for
Lottie Lawson when Phillip announced his intention of taking her to
"Sunnybank."
"Oh! Phillip," cried she in ecstasies of delight, her saucy curls
dancing around the pretty head, "and I shall see Mrs. Montgomery;
was there ever such a lucky girl as I?" and the bright eyes danced
with joy and eagerness. "Goodness gracious! it's almost too good
news to be true. Phillip, what shall I wear? Dear me, if I had only
known I would have made Kitty do up my white lawn."
The little maiden's countenance had suddenly changed from great joy
to dismay, and the indulgent brother was much amused.
"I don't think it will make much difference to Mrs. Montgomery, so
long as your dress is neat," said he smiling, then added, "I hope my
little sister has not commenced to be vain already. It is too soon,
my dear."
"Indeed I am not quarter as bad as the other girls," replied the
little miss. "I wish you could see how they dress for school; why
Nellie Bliss wears a different dress every afternoon, and to-day she
had one with the greatest lot of lace ruffles."
"Well, well, my dear, let Nellie enjoy her ruffles, and Lottie
Lawson be a sensible little girl."
As the brother fondled the fairy-like child, he thought of the
inherent weakness that showed itself thus and exclaimed as the
little form was beyond hearing, "the ruling passion truly," he
paused, then added, "with most women."
To say that Lottie Lawson enjoyed herself at "Sunnybank" would be
speaking too mildly. Even the dogs gave her welcome, romping,
playing and frisking till warned to restrain their unwonted
hilarity.
An oil painting of Marguerite Verne made the child clap her hands
with delight.
"Oh, it is just like her! It seems as if Miss Verne were speaking to
us," cried she, getting as near to the portrait as she possibly
could. "I can imagine myself in Sunday-school now and our dear
teacher among us. When do you expect her, Mrs. Montgomery?"
The bright eyes had a wistful look and gave the piquant face a
thoughtful tone.
"I cannot say, my dear, but we hope we may expect her soon."
The eager eyes favored the portrait with occasional glances while
the white fingers ran over the keys of the piano.
A pleasant evening was thus spent and Lottie was delighted when it
was arranged that she would be allowed to pass many such pleasant
hours during Mrs. Montgomery's stay at "Sunnybank."
"How thoughtful," was Mr. Verne's comment as he heard the voices in
the parlor on his return.
Phillip Lawson with a pang at his heart could not but notice the
wearied look upon Mr. Verne's face, also the stooping form which
once had been erect and majestic, and his sympathetic look could not
escape the eagle eye of Mrs. Montgomery.
"Business is business, my boy," said Mr. Verne as he bade his guests
good-night.
"Yes sir, it is all business these hard times. Business is
business," and musing thus Phillip Lawson went on his way, so busied
in thought that he scarce heeded the prattle of the child at his
side.