MONTAGUE ARNOLD IN DIFFICULTY.
Scene, a London club-room. It is an early hour and the dons of
the gay metropolis have not yet put in an appearance. The
handsomely-furnished rooms are almost silent while the endless
array of porters and waiters are on the alert, and cooks are busy
in getting up the various epicurean compounds for which they
are noted and to which the gay votaries of these resorts are ever
ready to pay devoted attention.
"What! here already, chum? You've kept your word for once." Montague
Arnold was somewhat inebriated but still in full possession of his
senses.
Hubert Tracy glanced moodily at his companion and muttered something
in the fashion of an oath, then exclaimed, "and a deuced hard time I
had to get here."
He was dressed in the most elaborate style and notwithstanding his
irregular habits was a prepossessing young man. His chestnut curls
gave a romantic look to his well-shaped head and would have elicited
the admiration of many a fair maiden. "Let us have what you want to
say, Mont."
"I'm afraid that you're not in the listening humor, boy," said the
other with an ill-at-ease look and manner.
"I ought to be pretty well used to it by this time," was the reply.
"Well, the truth of it is I'm on the rocks again and you must get me
off somehow. Cursed fool that I was to risk my last ten thousand!"
"Yes, and a kind of a fool that never sees his folly until too
late," exclaimed Hubert Tracy, in anything but sympathetic tones.
"Heap on the agony, my boy! I can stand more than that!" said the
other taking a cigar from the elaborate case and puffing the
fantastic wreath of smoke into all visible space.
"It's no use for you to be fighting against fate any longer. You
can't keep up this thing forever. Mont, your last venture was a
failure. What do you expect from this?"
"As true as the heavens are above us you will be more than repaid. I
have spoken to Eve and she says that you can count on her sure. Yes,
sir, you're one of the family already."
"Remember, Mont Arnold, if you fail now, when I need you most, there
will be the devil to pay."
The young man gave his companion a look that almost startled him,
then added, "If I am fooled, Mont, there will be a just
retribution."
"Good-heavens! don't look like that, boy; you would freeze a fellow
to the very joints and marrow; besides, there is no need of it now,
when you have everything your own way. Why, man, the old dame has
thrown over Sir Arthur."
"Egad, I thought as much, from the way the old clown, glared at me
last night at the Plough and Harrow."
"Plough and Harrow! what the deuce took you _there_?"
"To see the country lasses have a glass of hot punch, and hear the
orations of the country squires."
"And my would-be brother was representing his fair estate."
"Representing the gout, more like, for as he got tipsy I could see
him wince, and when an old yeoman, with a big red head, made light
by the whiskey, fell over our friend, he roared louder than a calf."
"It's all up with him and my precious mother, at any rate," said
Montague Arnold, twisting his waxed moustache into the most artistic
style, and laughing vociferously.
Wine was now passed around, and both gentlemen became extremely
amiable. Family matters were discussed and confidences were
exchanged, and Montague Arnold received a cheque for _five_
thousand dollars "to straighten him out once more," as he expressed
it, until he could make some settlement of his own financial
resources.
Montague Arnold was not in want. He was possessed of a large income,
but owing to his extravagant living and dissipated habits, his
demands were daily becoming more pressing; and when he had staked
ten thousand dollars at the gambling table and lost, nothing but the
helping hand of Hubert Tracy could save him.
The dissipated husband became very happy and at the same time very
garrulous. He discussed several of Mrs. Verne's qualities both as
negative and positive quantities, but more particularly the former,
and then referred to Marguerite.
It may be said in justice to Montague Arnold that he considered her
the living embodiment of womanly perfection, and though leading a
fast life and seeing much of the grosser side of human nature, he
still considered pure, noble-minded women the most exquisite
production of God's handiwork.
"Mont," exclaimed Tracy interrupting his companion, "if I can only
secure Marguerite Verne as my wife I will give up all my vices and
follies. I will lead a different life. Oh! if I had reformed years
ago I might have had no rival; but then, there is Lawson and he has
all along had the inside track."
"And as poor as a church mouse; bah! No fear of Madame Verne
allowing her daughter to wed a penniless lawyer. Man, the chances
now are all in your favor."
"The old lady was charmingly condescending last evening, I could
almost feel her smiles," said Hubert, becoming more buoyant in
spirits as the wine took effect.
Other members of the club began to drop in and Montague Arnold being
a general favorite soon forgot his former straitened circumstances.
His spirits rose to an almost uncontrollable degree, while his
companion complaining of headache sought the outer air.
As the club-room was situated in the fashionable West End of the
city, the young man turned his steps in the direction of Regent
Park, and sought the delightful shade of its sheltering foliage.
Like Rotten Row, Hyde Park had also its favorite resort and in this
delightful spot Hubert Tracy sat him down to rest. He had not long
remained thus when he heard voices; and presently the rustling of
leaves showed that the speakers had taken seats on the other side of
the shrubbery.
"She is one of the sweetest creatures I ever beheld," exclaimed a
lady rapturously.
The voice and style of expression indicated the speaker as a woman
of rank, and from the outline of her form Hubert Tracy could discern
she was also a woman of taste and fashion, also that she was young
and exceedingly graceful.
"Lady Gertrude is greatly in love with her, and she says that she is
the most interesting girl she ever met."
"I am of the opinion of her ladyship," said the other, who also
appeared to be of rank and culture, "but I cannot say that I would
rave over Mrs. Arnold, as the most of our gallants do. In my eyes
Miss Verne is far above her sister."
Hubert Tracy now felt a nervous sensation which made him uneasy, and
yet he was compelled to remain. His curiosity was aroused, and he
leaned eagerly forward where he could almost feel the speaker's
breath upon his cheeks.
"It was reported that Mrs. Verne was very anxious to secure Sir
Arthur Forrister for Miss Marguerite, but it was hinted at Mrs.
Arnold's drawing-room, not many evenings since, that Mr. Tracy is
the lucky man."
"What--not that young fellow who is so much in the company of
Arnold?"
"Yes, the very one, Ernest. It is to be hoped that he will give up
his bad habits, for if all reports be true he is not a proper
husband for Miss Verne."
"Who the deuce can they be?" thought Hubert, as he tried to get a
better view of the pair. Lovers they certainly were not. As he
listened he further learned that they were brother and sister, who
had met after some weeks of absence--the former being a cadet in a
military school in a neighboring borough.
"Egad, my young fellow, if it were you who made the speech there
would be some fan before you shouldered your knapsack again,"
muttered Hubert Tracy, as he sat eyeing the pair with no very great
affection; then adding, spitefully, "curse the women; they are first
and last in everything," stealthily crept out and was soon in the
open walk, jostled in turn by every pedestrian that crossed his
path.
Not more than an hour had intervened when Hubert Tracy found himself
chatting at his ease and listening to the pretty society talk of
Mrs. Montague Arnold. She was attired in robes befitting a princess,
and diamonds flashed from the superb necklace of antique design.
"You recreant!" exclaimed the beauty, throwing down the novel which
had occupied the moments intervening the completion of the
extravagant toilet and the arrival of an admirer. "I feel very much
inclined to impose severe punishment upon you. Is it becoming a
suitor to play truant when he wishes to hear favorably from his
'ladye fayre'?"
Hubert Tracy's eye brightened with expectation, and possessing
himself of an elegant lounge, reclined in real oriental style.
"I was at mamma's not an hour ago, and she is delighted at the
change I have made in Marguerite. She says that I am to have the
whole credit of her conversion. Really, Hubert, I am more than
delighted, and Madge is such a deaf good girl."
"She is too good for me," thought the young man, but he deemed it
best to maintain a spirit of independence.
Presently Mrs. Verne arrived, and also Marguerite, the latter
smiling and apparently cheerful, but very pale. She was dressed in
the utmost simplicity, and looked more childish and confiding than
ever. As her eyes met those of Hubert Tracy, a deathlike chill
seized her, but was unnoticed by the company.
"Madge has been indulged in idleness quite long enough, now we
are to have some music," and sweeping across the room to the
music-stand Mrs. Arnold began selecting her favorite pieces.
"Anything except conversation," thought Marguerite, and she played
some exquisite, old Scotch selections, which under any other
circumstances would act as a healing balm to a sore heart.
She thought of the hours when she had no audience save the quiet,
silent man whom she loved so tenderly--that dear parent who had
sacrificed so much for his family, and the thought was almost more
than she could endure.
"Why can I live on and pass through this dreadful ordeal, when so
many with bright, happy lives are suddenly cut off? But it is all
for his sake, and he has suffered more for me. Yes, papa, I will
make you happy, and you shall never know that I made any sacrifice
for your dear sake."
As the hours crept stealthily on, Hubert Tracy was determined to
offer his heart and hand to the woman of his choice.
Marguerite felt that her freedom was now gone forever, and resolved
to appear at her best, and on the following morning, when her mother
entered the breakfast-room, wreathed in smiles, and informed her
that Mr. Tracy had gained her permission to urge his suit, she
dreamily nodded assent, and tried hard to wear a bright and
reassuring smile.
"Strength is given us from heaven," cried the girl when once the
privacy of her own room was gained, "and if ever I needed such it is
now. Merciful God, teach, me thy ways. Oh, give me the light of thy
countenance to brighten my darkened path." A handsomely-bound
volume lay on the dressing-case. It was the Book of Common Prayer.
Marguerite lifted it in reverential tenderness. It was a keepsake
from her beloved parent, and she cherished it as something too
sacred for other hands to touch.
As she opened it her eyes fell upon the collect for the eighth
Sunday after Trinity, commencing thus:----"O, God, whose
never-failing providence ordereth all things both in heaven and
earth."
"Precious truth," cried Marguerite as she read the words over
several times, then murmured, "How simple of me to repine when it is
my Heavenly Father who ordereth all things," and from that moment
Marguerite Verne found strength given from above, as she bowed her
head in meek submission, and resolved to lead a higher and better
life.
"Madge, my child, you are looking radiant," cried the worldly
mother, as she glanced at her daughter, for no other reason than to
admire the style of the dress she had chosen for the reception of
Mr. Tracy.
"And that corsage is so becoming, my darling. It alone would be
enough to charm the most prosaic suitor, and that bracelet shows off
so prettily on your white arm. I am so glad you put it on."
"Mamma, please be less lavish of your compliments, I cannot stand
flattery. I would rather you would see some of my failings, and
teach me how to do what is right."
Marguerite meant not to convey a reproof, but if Mrs. Verne had been
at all sensitive, she would have felt somewhat uneasy. She would
have felt that she had not given a thought to anything that
concerned the proper guidance of her children, and she would have
felt that the beauty of Marguerite's character was alone due to the
inherent goodness that possessed her and made her in all respects a
true, noble and beautiful woman.
Marguerite has now made up her mind and she will not swerve from the
duty that lies nearest her. She meets Hubert Tracy with a calm
composure and a steady light in her soft expressive eyes and when
she had listened to his ardent declaration of love calmly
replied:--"Hubert Tracy I will be your wife but only on these
conditions--you will save my father from bankruptcy and ruin. Yes,
save and protect his gray hairs and I will bless you until my dying
hour."
"I will do that and more Marguerite, if you will only promise to
love me--give me your whole and undivided thoughts," and falling
down upon his knees before her Hubert Tracy for once meant what he
said.
True indeed the redeeming trait in his character was his love for
Marguerite Verne and any goodness that remained was now visible upon
his brow. Some trace of true manhood still lingered there and
arrested the gaze of the pure-minded maiden as she looked upon him
and prayed that the Omnipotent One would obliterate the earthy
incrustations so firmly impressed there and instead cause His image
to shine with undimmed lustre.
The young man divined the maiden's thoughts and he bent forward
exclaiming:--"Madge, I am undeserving of you, God knows, but I will
try and be worthy of you. Will you trust me?"
"Put your trust in God, Hubert. He alone can give you the support
you need," cried the girl in earnest tones.
"God bless you, my precious darling. It is hard for you now, but
remember ere long you will bless the hour that you promised to be my
wife."
Marguerite Verne now felt the pressure of her lover's embrace and
listened to his renewed protestations of love with a sad aching void
at her heart which she had hitherto never felt and she dared not
question herself as to the cause.
None knew it better than her affianced husband, but in the great
selfishness of his nature he could look on with proud indifference
and stifle his badly seared conscience with the thought that one day
Marguerite would be the happier for her present choice.
Truly it may be said--
"God moves in a mysterious way."
Ah, Marguerite never once dreamt that a destiny was before her other
than that she had pictured out in frightfully vivid character. She
little thought that in a certain sense Hubert Tracy's predictions
should come true, and that she could one day exclaim--
"How natural is joy, my heart,
How easy after sorrow!
For once, the best has come that hope
Promised them to-morrow."