THE WEDDING ANNIVERSARY--CONCLUSION.
"Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been--
A sound which makes us linger,--yet--farewell."
--_Byron_.
"Gracious, Melindy; one would think the half-breeds were a-comin'.
For mercy sake come out and hear the rumpus." Moses Spriggins had
rushed into the kitchen, his eyes ready to start from their sockets.
Melindy was busy frying pancakes and setting the table for the
evening meal.
"Now, don't bother me; you see the cakes is a-burnin' already,"--
but Melindy did not complete the sentence for the toot of a horn
near the barnyard proved that her better half had some grounds for
his conjecture.
"It's a gang of roughs a-tryin' to git somethin' to steal. By
jiminey! we'll settle em' sure as our name is Spriggins," and Moses
made a rush for the guns and ammunition with all possible haste.
"Great scott! they're a-comin' round to the front door."
"I say! Mr. Spriggins, this is a nice reception for invited guests;
open the door and let us in."
The words had the effect of magic. The door opened and revealed
Moses and Melindy armed for fight with a good supply of ammunition
in the foreground.
The scene that followed baffles description. The ludicrous
expression upon the face of host and hostess is something to be
imagined.
The roars of laughter were deafening and it was some time before
Phillip Lawson could make an attempt towards explanation.
* * * * *
"A what-do-ye-call-it weddin', Miss Lottie?" cried Moses, now
re-appearing on the scene with his best clothes on, plus a flaring
red necktie to match Melindy's "peerin out dress."
"A variety wedding, Mr. Spriggins. Now, you are not to blame any of
the others for not sending you word because I made each one promise
that it would be kept a surprise."
"Wal, I can tell you, it is a nice surprise, but I felt kinder
skeered at the fust, eh Melindy!"
The latter looked quite bridish with her maroon dress and lace
ruffles and white flowers--the same which she purchased at
Manchester three years previous, still as fresh as if bathed in
morning dew.
And the number of guests!
It was no wonder that Mr. Moses Spriggins was in a state of dire
confusion as he surveyed the smiling throng of intelligence, grace
and beauty, and last, but not least, the pretty and becoming
costumes of the fair wearers.
Foremost in the group is Marguerite Verne. "She looks too good
for anything," says the enthusiastic host as he contemplates the
sweet maiden in a neat black satin frock relieved by a spray of
forget-me-nots and pansies.
"And Miss Lottie, what shall I call you--a great big doll with a red
shiny dress on."
"Moses Spriggins, I'm ashamed of your ignorance; why it's pink
veiling Miss Lottie has on, and I'm sure she looks nicer than any of
them china-faced dolls in shop winders."
"Wal, wal, Melindy, you wimin folks oughter know mor'n men folks,"
replied Moses rushing out of the front door to see if the "hosses
were all seen to."
The best room never appeared to more advantage than on this festive
occasion. The old-fashioned looking glass seemed to take pride in
reflecting the pretty faces and sunny smiles, while the cheerful
fire on the hearth played hide-and-seek with the brazen andirons,
and sent out a glow of warmth that was emblematic of the big warm
welcome of the generous family.
Each guest had to receive a share of Mrs. Spriggins' eulogium, and a
lively time ensued.
But the crowning event of the evening was a still greater surprise.
Mrs. Spriggins had been summoned to the kitchen for a few moments,
and on her return to the best room saw a sight that almost took away
her breath.
The tables, chairs, and every inch of available space were crowded
with such, a variety of useful and pretty articles that one might
imagine himself in Blanchard's.
Poor Moses was for the moment speechless, first looking at one guest
and then at another.
Mr. Lawson now came forward, and in a few well-chosen remarks
addressed the host and hostess, and on behalf of the company
tendered congratulations on the third anniversary of their marriage.
Wreathed in smiles the host arose to reply.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the latter giving his cravat a very
artistic touch, "if Mr. Lawson wa'nt a lawyer I'd a-tried to say
somethin', but I can't get a word out nohow, only Melindy and me
will never forgit your kindness--and the skeare."
The applause that followed was long and loud, and as the good host
made a hasty exit from the room, Marguerite did not fail to see the
big tear that rolled down the sunburnt cheeks.
"And you noticed it too, my darling," whispered Phillip to his
bethrothed, as he gained her side.
"Yes Phillip, I was just thinking that those tears were more
precious than pearls--the essence of real gratitude."
"God bless you, my own," said the lover, seizing the little hand,
and folding it so tenderly within his own.
But the time is not for love-making scenes, and the pair are aware
of the fact.
Marguerite is ready to assist in doing anything that she can, and
the guests now begin to make merry in real earnest.
A neighbor who could "perform upon the violin" was despatched for by
the enthusiastic Moses, and the light fantastic was in indulged in
with a zest, and all is "merry as a marriage bell."
Let us glance at some of the familiar faces as they pass to and fro
through the figures of a quadrille.
Mrs. Arnold is opposite us, looking quiet and content. She is happy
in the thought that she is trying to do her duty, and by striving to
live for others to atone for the past.
"You are doing nicely, Mr. Spriggins," says she to her partner, by
way of encouragement. "I believe that you make fewer mistakes than I
do."
"Wal, they say one has to creep a-fore they walk, so I spose I can't
be a dabster at the bisness yet--but jist look at them folks."
"Them folks" were Miss Lottie and a graceful young man who bore a
striking resemblance to the young solicitor. The latter was Mr. Tom
Lawson who had grown up an intelligent, manly fellow, and on having
shown much ability as a civil engineer, had been appointed to a
lucrative government position at Campbelltown.
Lottie hailed with delight her brother's flying visit, and when the
two sallied forth to purchase a neat and chaste toilet set her
delight was unbounded, and when the said articles occupied a
conspicuous place among the wedding presents no guest was happier
than this impulsive little maiden.
"But can't that insurance man fling himself in great style," cried
the radiant Moses, eyeing a certain official of the Dominion Safety
Fund who, at Miss Verne's request, was also a guest.
Mrs. Arnold smiling at her partner's earnestness, cast a glance
towards the object of the remark then replied, "It was so kind of
Mr. ---- to join us as his time is limited."
"Wal, one good turn deserves another, Mrs. Arnold, for Miss Verne
praised up that consarn so that I went right off and got all I could
to join it, so you see all through this life it's give and take?"
"Quite true, Mr. Spriggins, but we don't always live up to that
principle," said the other with a shade of sadness in her tone.
Mr. Spriggins had penetration enough to see in what, direction Mrs.
Arnold's thoughts were drifting and his discretion came to his aid.
"Wal, this ere affair will be a nine-days wonder among the nabers,
the folks will be so jealous that they'll not come to have a squint
at the brick-nacks--that's what you call them ere ornaments and sich
things ain't it?"
"Bric-a-brac, Mr. Spriggins," replied Mrs. Arnold, in the mildest
manner possible; also trying to appear serious.
"Wal, I'll be jist like Melindy. When she's a-puttin on airs before
the nabers sometimes she'll tell 'em she ain't out enough now to
know sich and sich things!"
The music ceased before Mrs. Arnold had time to reply, and with an
air of awkward gallantry Mr. Spriggins led his partner to a seat.
"Never say again that you can't dance, Mr. Spriggins," cried the
exuberant Lottie, bounding toward the latter with the grace of a
fairy, "and be sure to remember that you are my partner for the next
round dance."
"Round dance," said Moses in perplexity.
"A polka for instances, Mr. Spriggins!"
"Oh, yes, when I used ter go to school the gals used to have me
a-dancin'--this is the way it goes Miss Lottie," and instantly Mr.
Spriggins was performing sundry evolutions to his own accompaniment
of "I've got a polka trimmed with blue."
"If that Moses ain't a-makin' a guy of himself a-dancin' I'd like to
know," cried Melindy, as she emerged from the kitchen and caught a
view of her better half in his inimitable polka feat.
But Mr. Spriggin was unconcious of the fact and nothing happened to
mar the effect of the successful attempt.
The brilliant Louise Rutherford might indeed claim more than a
passing thought; her striking beauty was never more conspicuous that
when surrounded by her most intimate friends and partaking of the
hospitality of Mr. Moses Spriggins.
With due respect to host and hostess, the young ladies had appeared
in their most bewitching toilets, and in response to Marguerite's
playful reminder, "Louise, it is a wedding celebration," the latter
had donned a handsomely-trimmed garnet silk relieved by a heavy gold
necklace, while a broad band of gold crowned the dusky hair and made
a fitting coronet for the dark-eyed Houris.
"I cannot realize that you are going away so soon, Helen. It is
selfish to wish that you would remain this winter, but self is my
besetting sin."
Helen Rushton put her plump white arm around the speakers waist, and
thus they sat for several minutes.
Helen was to start for home on the first of the week following, and
her companions could not bear the thought. Louise Rutherford loved
the girl as a sister, and though their natures were strongly in
contrast there was a firm bond of sympathy between them.
"Just think Louise how many changes have taken place since I came?
Who then would have dreamed that Josie Jordan would become a
clergyman's wife?"
"Think!" said Louise, with considerable feeling, "I dare not let
myself think, each day brings its own thoughts. Life to me is made
up of enigmas and puzzling contradictions, and not being endowed
with an extra amount of brain power content myself with the
comforting words--''tis folly to be wise.'"
"What shall I call you, Louise, a pessimist?"
"For goodness sake! Helen, be moderate. Remember that a successful
speaker always adapts himself to the capacity of his hearers."
"What's all this about? preaching I suppose--something about
hearers! Jennie Montgomery!" cried both girls in concert.
Cousin Jennie was truly the ruling spirit of the party. She was
ready for anything that was proposed and met each difficulty with a
happy solution.
Had Louise Rutherford gone further into the subject of changes she
might have claimed the bright eyed Jennie as illustration.
A change had come to happy "Gladswood," Leslie Graham had won the
esteem of aunt Hester, and in return had gained the heart of her
daughter.
The fond mother does not regret her loss for she knows that the
young man is possessed of all those traits of character which are
truly noble and elevating, and which cannot fail to bring happiness
to her whose happiness is his only concern.
Ah! yes, in Jennie Montgomery's face one can read her secret. She
loves and is loved in return and that is all we wish to know.
A few minutes later, by a happy coincidence, there is a quartette
grouped together in careless but artistic style.
"This reminds me of a morning at 'Sunnybank.' Do you remember it
Madge?"
A slight quiver of the pretty lips was followed by a faint blush--
Helen Rushton raised her hand as if to gain audience.
"That is intended for me girls. I am the only one who is not
engaged. I was at 'Sunnybank' on the morning to which Miss Louise
refers, and certainly I was the one who made the remark."
"Helen is mistaken, I think," said Marguerite in her soft, sweet
way.
"She is indeed," said Louise, with much earnestness. "It was while
we were in the library, and all sitting together Josie Jordan
suddenly called out: 'Girls where will we all be two years from now?
That two years expired yesterday, and the thought now occurred to me
as we became grouped together in the old familiar way."
"Forgive me, Louise, darling, I am too impulsive. Let us now take on
two more years and hope that when the time expires we will be as
happy then as now."
"Heaven grant it thus," was the fervent prayer of each, though the
words were unsaid, and as the merry party returned homeward full of
life and gaiety there were none who felt happier than Marguerite
Verne and her three companions.
* * * * *
A glorious autumn day in 1886 brings together a joyous and happy
group--the old familiar one. The hostess of the luxurious home is
the wife of Phillip Lawson. Ah! Marguerite you can never lose your
angelic beauty and softness of expression. In the violet eyes there
is a light that sheds a radiance over the little household, and
imparts a warmth to each suffering heart that has been chilled by
contact with the selfish and calculating world.
"Helen you are a darling! you are true blue!" were the words which
greeted the smiling visitor as she pounced in upon the fair young
matron, with the flush of excitement upon her fair, broad forehead
and oval cheeks.
"Girls you look charming! One would think you were expecting your
beaux instead of a few old married men! Why I thought when folks got
married they did not primp at all."
"I'm glad that you are agreeably mistaken, my dear," said Mrs.
Noyes, her charms enhanced by the rich bronze silk de Lyons, that
set off her faultless form to advantage.
Mrs. Arnold now entered, followed by Mrs. Verne and a host of hearty
congratulations were passed around within a very short time.
Mrs. Phillip Lawson's boudoir was a perfect gem in itself, its pale
blue and silver draperies harmonizing with the taste of its
mistress, while the delicate and artistic touches of the graceful
hand were proof of the labors of love there performed.
"Madge! you old dear, the only thing I envy you is this charming
spot," said Helen as she stood admiring the pretty work while the
others are reclining upon the inviting ottomans, and cosey chairs of
the most unique designs.
"The very words I said when I first entered it," said Cousin Jennie,
looking as youthful as when we met her at "Sunnybank."
"The effect of mind upon mind," said Mrs. Noyes, with a sly, roguish
smile upon the red pouting lips.
Helen Rushton threw herself into a handsomely carved fauteuil with
cushion of pale blue satin, embroidered with a wreath of lily of the
valley and soft cream roses.
"How time flies!--two years girls, since we made our promise--and I
am the only old maid left in the crowd. What a world of consolation
is in that thought!"
"Helen Rushton this is a fit place for your confession, and you
shall not stir until you have made it, my precious one."
The speaker was Cousin Jennie, now Mrs. Leslie Graham.
Mrs. Lawson sat for a moment as if buried in earnest thought, and as
her companions glanced at the sweet, sympathetic face they were also
affected in turn.
The past with all its light and shade was lovingly touched upon, and
as the gentle Marguerite's eyes were dimmed with tears her heart was
full of gratitude.
Helen Rushton _did_ make a full confession of her love affairs,
expressly for Cousin Jennie. What that confession was we will not
say, but presume upon the imagination of the reader. It is several
hours later. Helen has retired to her own room, and her old friend
lingers lovingly beside her. They chat of other scenes and other
days, and the hour flies too quickly.
A step is heard coming through the hall. Ah! the magic of that step.
"It is Phillip, Helen," and a gleam of love lights up the angelic
face.
"Good night, dearest," exclaimed Marguerite, embracing her friend in
the old school-girl fashion.
"Good night, Marguerite, if my life be indeed half as happy as
yours; it is all I ask."
"Yes, Helen, I am truly happy," and the young wife went forth to
meet the loving embrace of a tender, true and devoted husband.
"Ah! my darling, where is to be found such happiness as ours?"
Phillip Lawson needed no reply--no other language than the depths of
those violet eyes.