LOVE'S REWARDS.
A few days afterwards the body of the Algonquin maiden, recovered from
the waves, was lying in an upper chamber at Pine Towers. Whatever may
have been the supreme agony in which this suffering soul parted from
its human habitation, no trace of it remained upon the inanimate form.
Free from scar or stain it lay, the languid limbs forever motionless,
the cold hands crossed upon a pulseless breast, the beautiful figure,
heavily shadowed in enshrouding tresses, stretched in painless repose,
and on the wonderful face the expression of one who has gained, not
rest and peace--when had she ever hungered for these?--but the look,
almost startling in its intensity, of one who has found love.
Somewhere, sometime, we who struggle through life--nay, rather,
struggle _after_ life--in this world that God so loved, shall find our
longings satisfied; the one yearning cry of our heart shall be
stilled. The poet shall touch the stars, whose pale light now shines
so uncertainly upon his brow; the painter shall put upon canvas a
beauty too deep for words; the worshipper of nature shall thrill with
the knowledge of unspoken secrets; the seeker after truth shall learn
the mysteries of heaven. The infinite Father cannot deny his children;
He will not cheat them. But the lessons of patience are harder to
learn than those of labour.
Upon this poor child of the wilderness had fallen a happiness so
bewildering and so complete that it seemed as though the perfect lips
must open to give utterance to a joy too full to be contained. But to
the man self-accused of robbing her of love and life, this sweet
reflected glory from the other side of the dark gateway brought no
consolation. In that silent room, flooded with cold moonlight, Edward
Macleod stood alone in the dead girl's presence, and felt the bitter
waves of remorse sweep over his soul. Her beauty, touched by the light
of absolute happiness, thrilled him now as never before. From mere
wantonness, he had crushed out the heart of this faultlessly lovely
and innocent creature, and his head fell upon his breast in shame and
self-contempt. God might forgive him, but how could he ever forgive
himself?
The door blew open, and, silently as a vision, Helene came in and
stood beside him. It was a strange place for a lover's tryst--that
bare room with its lifeless occupant, flooded with white unearthly
moonlight "Let me stay with you, Edward," she pleaded, with quivering
lips. "No," she added, in answer to the unspoken fear in his eyes, "I
shall not try to comfort you." She knew intuitively that no consolation
could avail in this hour of silent self-torture. "Only," she whispered,
"you must let me share your grief, for I also have wronged her."
And so, with clasped hands, they bent together and kissed the
beautiful still lips that could never utter an accusing word against
them. Their love founded upon death had suddenly become as mysterious
and sacred as the life of a child whose mother perished when she gave
it birth.
Some months elapsed after the burial of Wanda before Edward ventured
to bring his dearest hopes under the notice of Madame DeBerczy. This
august personage, in whose memory yet lingered frequent rumours of the
young man's flirtations with the nut-brown forest maid, cherished no
particular partiality for him. If Helene's lover had ever entertained
the unfounded illusion that her lily-white hand had been too lightly
won, he might willingly have submitted to the just punishment of his
presumption; but in view of his long struggle to win her favour, it
was dispiriting to learn that there was still a greater height to
conquer,--the lofty indifference of one whom he wished, in spite of
her weaknesses, to make his mother-in-law. Ice, however, will melt
when exposed to a certain degree of heat, and this was where Edward's
naturally sunny disposition and the warmth of his love did him good
service. Before the good lady fairly realized the change that was
passing over her feelings with regard to her daughter's suitor, she
had ceased to speak of him as that frivolous young Macleod, and had
begun to see for herself in his handsome face the sincerity and
sadness that follow in the wake of every deep and painful experience.
From approval it is but a step to appreciation, and this merges by
natural degrees into affection. Helene, who, though she did not
consider Edward faultless, was apt to find his faults more alluring
than the virtues of some others, had at last the satisfaction of
knowing that her mother inclined to take a like view of them; and her
now impatient lover was made glad by a formal acceptance from Madame
DeBerczy of his request for her daughter's hand.
Meantime, Rose and Allan, whose course of love, if it had not suffered
so tempestuous a passage, had still flowed for the most part under
gloomy skies, were at last in the enjoyment of undisputed sunshine. In
this unaccustomed atmosphere the fairest flower of the Macleod family
bloomed anew, and her lover at last beheld his prospects _couleur de
rose_. Allan had accepted an invitation from the old Commodore to
visit Pine Towers, and the impression he made upon his prospective
father-in-law grew daily deeper and pleasanter, till, to the elder
gentleman's sorrow at the thought of parting from his fondly-loved
daughter, was added real regret that he had never before appreciated
the sterling qualities of her chosen husband.
Politically, their views, which had once been wide asunder as the
poles, had now almost unconsciously met and kissed each other. Nor was
this the result of abandoned convictions. Both men continued to
cherish their old notions of things, and to hold to the traditions of
the party to which each was attached. But Allan Dunlop and the
Commodore had come to know and to respect each other, and, as the
result, each took a more dispassionate view of the questions which
disturbed the country and which had ranged them politically on opposite
sides. This change was specially noticeable in the elder of the two.
Though allied to the party who prided themselves in being regarded as
stiff, unbending Tories, Commodore Macleod had an acute sense of what
was just and fair; and under a somewhat rough exterior he had a
kindly, sympathetic heart. This latter virtue in the old gentleman
made him keenly alive to the grievances of the people, and particularly
sensitive to appeals from settlers, the hardships of whose lot, though
he had himself little experience of them, were nevertheless often
present to his mind. His manly character, moreover, though it was
occasionally hid under a sailor's brusque testiness, disposed him to
appreciate manliness in others, and to be sympathetic towards those
whose aims were high and whose motives were good. Thus, despite his
inherent conservatism and pride of birth, he was gradually won over to
regard Dunlop, first with tolerance, then with awakened interest and
respect, and finally with admiration and love.
Dunlop, on the other hand, though he abated nothing in his enthusiasm
for the cause of the people, and never faltered in his loyalty to
duty, came to regard the political situation, if not from the point of
view of his opponents, at least from a point of view which was
eminently statesmanlike and discreet. Influenced by a broader
comprehension of affairs, and by a more complaisant regard for the
country's rulers, who had done and were doing much for the young
commonwealth, however sorely the political system pressed upon the
people, Dunlop placed a check upon his gift of parliamentary raillery,
and refrained from pressing many reforms which time, he knew, would
quietly and with less acrimony bring about.
To these ameliorating influences both men unresistingly submitted
themselves, and, as a consequence, each came nearer to the other;
while the bond of love between Rose and Allan cemented the alliance
political, and threw down all barriers that had once frowned on the
alliance matrimonial. It was a consciousness of this change of feeling
which led Allan Dunlop, on his return for a time to his political
duties at York, to write to Rose in the following strain, and to
assure her of the complete cordiality that now existed, and was sure
to continue to exist, between her father and himself:
"YORK, November 30th, 1827.
"MY DEAR ROSE: From the paradise of the garden of Pine Towers, with
you as its ineffably sweet, pervading presence, to the inferno of
these Legislative Halls, with their scenes of discord and turbulence,
duty and fate have ruthlessly and unfeelingly banished me. Coming from
your restful presence, how little disposed am I to enter upon the
strifes of these stormy times, and to take up the gage of battle
thrown recklessly down by some knight of the Upper House, whose idea,
either of manly dignity or of Parliamentary warfare, is not that of
the "_preux chevalier, sans peur et sans reproche_."
Yet I would be unworthy of the little queen I serve, whose smiles and
favour are a continuous inspiration to me, were I weakly to forego my
duty, and desire to seek the solace of her presence without having
first acquitted myself with honour on this mimic field of battle. What
is to be the outcome of this strife of tongues, and what the future of
our country, riven asunder as it is by those, on the one side, who are
jealous merely for their own rights and privileges, and, on the other,
by those who care only for the distraction and clamour of fruitless
contention, it were hard to say. With the ever-increasing
complications, the fires of discontent must some day burst into flame.
Even now it wants but the breath of a bold, daring spirit to set the
whole Province in a blaze; and I shudder at the prospect unless a
spirit of conciliation speedily shows itself, and the Executive makes
some surrender of its autocratic powers.
In the discussion of political affairs I had recently with your
father, I am glad to say that we agree very closely as to the inciting
causes of the public discontent, and have a common opinion as to the
best,--indeed, the only satisfactory,--means of applying a remedy.
This unity of feeling must rivet and perpetuate our friendship, and
aid in bringing about, what I ardently desire, some necessary and
immediate reforms in our mode of government. I need hardly say to you,
who are so dear to me, how fervently I hail this mutual understanding
on political matters, and how much I auger from it of weal to the
country and of pleasure and happiness to ourselves. Heaven grant that
all I expect from it may be realized!
I have no news to give you of social matters in York, save of Lady
Mary Willis's Fancy Ball, which is to come off at the close of the
year. Mr. Galt, of the Canada Company, the Robinsons, Hewards,
Hagermans, Widmers, Spragges, and Baldwins--everybody but a few of the
Government House people--are taking a great interest in the coming
affair. There is to be a sleighing-party soon also, from the Macaulays
to the Crookshank's farm, and on to the Denisons. I have been asked to
join it, and wish you were to be here in time, to make one--the
dearest to me!--of the party.
With my respects to your father, kind regards to Edward and Mad'lle
Helene, and abiding love to your sweet self and the little people of
your household,
I remain, ever and devotedly yours,
ALLAN DUNLOP."
But there was little need now of formal--or indeed of any--correspondence
between Allan and Rose, for they were soon to be forever together, in
the bonds not only of a common sympathy and a common interest in their
country's welfare, but in that closer union of hearts which both had
secretly longed for and both had feared would never come about. It was
arranged that in the spring of the following year there would be a
double marriage, and that the day that saw Edward united to Helene
would also see the union of Allan and Rose. Even now, preparations for
the interesting event had been set on foot, and society in "Muddy
Little York" was on the tip-toe of excitement over the coming weddings.
As the winter passed, and the month drew near which was to witness the
two-fold alliance, the young people of the Capital took a delirious
interest in every circumstance, however trivial, connected with the
affair. Of course, the double ceremony was to take place at the Church
of St. James, and it was known that the Lieutenant-Governor and Lady
Sarah Maitland, before finally quitting the Province, were to be
present, and that the redoubtable politico-ecclesiastic, the
Archdeacon of York, was to tie the knots, and, in his richest doric,
pronounce both couples severally "mon and wife." The wedding breakfast,
it was also a matter of current talk, was to be at the homestead of a
distinguished member of the local judiciary; and it had also leaked
out that, thereafter, the united couples were to embark on His
Majesty's sloop-of-war, "_The Princess Charlotte_," and be conveyed as
far as Kingston, on the wedding journey to Quebec, where Edward, with
his bride, was to proceed to England to rejoin his regiment, and Allan
and Rose were to spend the honeymoon in some delightful retreat on the
St. Lawrence.
What need is there to continue the chronicle?--save to assure the
modern reader of this old-time story that everything happily came
about as foreshadowed in the gossip we have just related, and that
the after-fortunes of the four happy people who took that early
wedding journey on the St. Lawrence were as bright as those of the
happiest Canadian bride and bridegroom that have ever taken the same
journey since.
THE END.