GETTING READY TO BE MARRIED.
"Miss Helen Lennox, Silverton, Mass."
This was the superscription of a letter, postmarked New York, and
brought to Helen within a week after Wilford's departure. It was his
handwriting, too; and wondering what he could have written to her, Helen
broke the seal, starting as there dropped into her lap a check for five
hundred dollars.
"What does it mean?" she said, her cheek flushing with anger and
insulted pride as she read the following brief lines:
"NEW YORK, May 8th.
"MISS HELEN LENNOX: Please pardon the liberty I take in inclosing the sum
of five hundred dollars, to be used by you in procuring whatever Katy may
need for present necessities. Presuming that the country seamstresses
have not the best facilities for obtaining the latest fashions, my mother
proposes sending out her own private dressmaker, Mrs. Ryan. You may look
for her the last of the week.
"Yours truly, WILFORD CAMERON."
It would be impossible to describe Helen's indignation as she read this
letter, which roused her to a pitch of anger such as Wilford Cameron had
never imagined when he wrote the offensive lines. He had really no
intention of insulting her. On the contrary, the gift of money was
kindly meant, for he knew very well that Uncle Ephraim was poor, while
the part referring to the dressmaker was wholly his mother's
proposition, to which he had acceded, knowing how much confidence Juno
had in her taste, and that whatever she might see at the farmhouse would
remain a secret with her, or at most be confined to the ears of his
mother and sisters. He wished Katy to look well, and foolishly fancying
that no country artiste could make her look so, he consented to Mrs.
Ryan's going, never suspecting the storm of anger it would rouse in
Helen, whose first impulse was to throw the check into the fire. Her
second, however, was soberer. She would not destroy it, nor tell any one
she had it but Morris--he should know the whole. Accordingly, without a
word to any one, she repaired to Linwood, finding Morris at home, and
startling him with the vehemence of her anger as she explained the
nature of her errand.
"If I disliked Wilford Cameron before, I hate him now. Yes, hate him,"
she said, stamping her little foot in fury.
"Why, Helen!" Morris exclaimed, laying his hand reprovingly on her
shoulder. "Is this the right spirit for one who professes better things?
Stop a moment and think."
"I know it is wrong," Helen answered, the tears glittering in her eyes;
"but somehow since he came after Katy, I have grown so hard, so wicked
toward Mr. Cameron. He seems so proud, so unapproachable. Say, Cousin
Morris, do you think him a good man--that is, good enough for Katy?"
"Most people would call him too good for her," Morris replied. "And, in
a worldly point of view, she is doing well, while Mr. Cameron, I
believe, is better than three-fourths of the men who marry our girls. He
is very proud; but that results from his education and training. Looking
only from a New York standpoint he misjudges country people, but he will
appreciate you by and by. Do not begin by hating him so cordially."
"Yes, but this money. Now, Morris, we do not want him to get Katy's
outfit. I would rather go without clothes my whole life. Shall I send it
back?"
"I think that the best disposition to make of it," Morris replied. "As
your brother, I can and will supply Katy's needs."
"I knew you would, Morris. What should we do without you?" and Helen
smiled gratefully upon the doctor, who in word and deed was to her like
a dear brother. "And I'll send it to-day, in time to keep that dreadful
Mrs. Ryan from coming; for, Morris, I won't have any of Wilford
Cameron's dressmakers in the house."
Morris could not help smiling at Helen's energetic manner as she
hurried to his library and taking his pen wrote to Wilford Cameron as
follows:
"SILVERTON, May 9th.
"Mr. WILFORD CAMERON: I give you credit for the kindest of motives in
sending the check, which I now return to you, with my compliments. We are
not as poor as you suppose, and would almost deem it sacrilege to let
another than ourselves provide for Katy so long as she is ours. And
furthermore, that Mrs. Ryan's services will not be needed, so it is not
worth her while to make a journey here for nothing. Yours,
"HELEN LENNOX."
Helen felt better after this letter had gone, wondering often how it
would be received, and if Wilford would be angry. She hoped he would,
and his mother too. "The idea of sending that Ryan woman to us, as if we
did not know anything!" and Helen's lip curled scornfully as she thus
denounced the Ryan woman, whose trunk was all packed with paper patterns
and devices of various kinds when the letter arrived saying she was not
needed. Being a woman of few words, she quietly unpacked her patterns
and went back to the work she was engaged upon when Mrs. Cameron
proposed her going into the country. Juno, on the contrary, flew into a
violent passion to think their first friendly advances should be thus
received. Bell laughed immoderately, saying she rather liked Helen
Lennox's spirit, and almost wished her brother had chosen her instead of
the other, who, she presumed, was a milk and water thing, even if Mrs.
Woodhull did extol her so highly. Mrs. Cameron felt the rebuff keenly,
wincing under it, and saying "that Helen Lennox must be a very rude,
ill-bred girl," and hoping her son would draw the line of division
between his wife and her family so tightly that the sister could never
pass over it. She had received the news of her son's engagement without
opposition, for she knew the time for that was passed. Wilford would
marry Katy Lennox, and she must make the best of it, so she offered no
word of remonstrance, but, when they were alone, she said to him: "Did
you tell her? Does she know it all?"
"No, mother," and the old look of pain came back into Wilford's face.
"I meant to do so, and I actually began, but she stopped me short,
saying she did not wish to hear my faults, she would rather find them
out herself. Away from her it is very easy to think what I will do, but
when the trial comes I find it hard, we have kept it so long; but I
shall tell her yet; not till after we are married though, and I have
made her love me even more than she does now. She will not mind it then.
I shall take her where I first met Genevra, and there I will tell her.
Is that right?"
"Yes, if you think so," Mrs. Cameron replied.
Whatever it was which Wilford had to tell Katy Lennox, it was very
evident that he and his mother looked at it differently, he regarding it
as a duty he owed to Katy not to conceal from her what might possibly
influence her decision, while his mother only wished the secret told in
hopes that it would prevent the marriage; but now that Wilford had
deferred it till after the marriage, she saw no reason why it need be
told at all. At least Wilford could do as he thought best, and she
changed the conversation from Genevra to Helen's letter, which had so
upset her plans. That her future daughter-in-law was handsome she did
not doubt, for Wilford said so, and Mrs. Woodhull said so in her letter
of congratulation; but she, of course, had no manner, no style, and as a
means of improving her in the latter respect, and making her presentable
at the altar and in Boston, she had proposed sending out Ryan, as she
was called in the family; but that project had failed, and Helen Lennox
did not stand very high in the Cameron family, though Wilford in his
heart felt an increased respect for her independent spirit,
notwithstanding that she had thwarted his designs.
"I have another idea," Mrs. Cameron said to her daughters that
afternoon, when talking with them upon the subject. "Wilford tells me
Katy and Bell are about the same size and figure, and Ryan shall make up
a traveling suit proper for the occasion. Of course there will be no one
at the wedding for whom we care, but in Boston, at the Revere, it will
be different. Cousin Harvey boards there, and she is very stylish. I saw
some elegant gray poplins, of the finest luster, at Stewarts yesterday.
Suppose we drive down this afternoon."
This was said to Juno as the more fashionable one of the sisters, but
Bell answered quickly: "Poplin, mother, on Katy? It will not become her
style, I am sure, though suitable for many. If I am to be fitted I shall
say a word about the fabric. Get a little checked silk, as expensive as
you like. It will suit her better than a heavy poplin."
Perhaps Bell was right, Mrs. Cameron said; they would look at both, and
as the result of this looking, two dresses, one of the finest poplin,
and one of the softest, richest, plaided silk were given the next day
into Mrs. Ryan's hands, with injunctions to spare no pains or expense in
trimming and making both. And so the dressmaking for Katy's bridal was
proceeding in New York, in spite of Helen's letter; while down in
Silverton, at the farmhouse, there were numerous consultations as to
what was proper and what was not, Helen sometimes almost wishing she had
thrown off her pride and suffered Mrs. Ryan to come. Katy would look
well in anything, but Helen knew there were certain styles preferable to
others, and in a maze of perplexity she consulted with this and that
individual, until all Silverton knew what was projected, each one
offering the benefit of her advice until Helen and Katy both were nearly
distracted. Aunt Betsy suggested a blue delaine and round cape, offering
to get it herself, and actually purchasing the material with her own
funds, saved from drying apples. That would answer for one dress, Helen
said, but not for the wedding; and she was becoming more and more
undecided, when Morris came to the rescue, telling Katy of a young woman
who had for some time past been his patient, but who was now nearly well
and anxious to obtain work again. She had evidently seen better days, he
said; was very ladylike in her manner, and possessed of a great deal of
taste, he imagined; besides that, she had worked in one of the largest
shops in New York. "As I am going this afternoon over to North
Silverton," he added, in conclusion, "and shall pass Miss Hazelton's
house, you or Helen might accompany me and see for yourself."
It was decided that Helen should go, and about four o'clock she found
herself ringing at the cottage over whose door hung the sign: "Miss M.
Hazelton, Fashionable Dressmaker." She was at home, so said the little
slipshod girl who answered the ring, and in a few moments Helen was
talking with Marian Hazelton, whose face showed signs of recent illness,
but, nevertheless, very attractive, from its peculiarly sad expression
and the soft liquid eyes of dark blue, which looked as if they were not
strangers to tears. At twenty she must have been strikingly beautiful;
and even now, at thirty, few ladies could have vied with her had she
possessed the means for gratifying her taste and studying her style.
About the mouth, so perfect in repose, there was when she spoke a
singularly sweet smile, which in a measure prepared one for the low,
silvery voice, which had a strange note of mournful music in its tone,
making Helen start as it asked: "Did you wish to see me?"
"Yes; Dr. Grant told me you were--" Helen paused here, for though
Marian Hazelton's dress indicated poverty, the words "were wanting work"
seemed at variance with her whole being, and so she changed her form of
speech, and said instead: "Told me you could make dresses, and I drove
around with him to secure your services, if possible, for my sister, who
is soon to be married. We would like it so much if you could go to our
house instead of having Katy come here."
Marian Hazelton was needing work, for there was due more than three
months' board, besides the doctor's bill, and so, though it was not
her custom to go from house to house, she would, in this instance,
accommodate Miss Lennox, especially as during her illness her customers
had many of them gone elsewhere, and her little shop was nearly broken
up. "Was it an elaborate trousseau she was expected to make?" and she
bent down to turn over some fashion plates lying upon the table.
"Oh, no! we are plain country people. We cannot afford as much for Katy
as we would like; besides, I dare say Mr. Cameron will prefer selecting
most of her wardrobe himself, as he is very wealthy and fastidious,"
Helen replied, repenting the next instant the part concerning Mr.
Cameron's wealth, as that might look like boasting to Miss Hazelton,
whose head was bent lower over the magazine as she said: "Did I
understand that the gentleman's name was Cameron?"
"Yes, Wilford Cameron, from New York," Helen answered, holding up her
skirts and s-s-kt-ing at the kitten which came running toward her,
evidently intent upon springing into her lap.
Fear of cats was Helen's weakness, if weakness it can be called, and in
her efforts to frighten her tormentor she did not look again at Miss
Hazelton until startled by a gasping cry and heavy fall. Marian had
fainted, and Helen was just raising her head from the floor to her lap
when Morris appeared, relieving her of her burden, of whom he took
charge until she showed signs of life. In her alarm Helen forgot
entirely what they were talking about when the faint came on, and her
first question put to Marian was: "Were you taken suddenly ill? Why did
you faint?"
There was no answer at first, except tears, which quivered on the long
eyelashes, and then rolled down the cheeks; but when she did speak she
said: "I am still so weak that the least exertion affects me, and I was
bending over the table; it will soon pass off."
If she was so weak, she was not able to work, Helen said, proposing that
the plan be for the present abandoned; but to this Marian would not
listen; her great eager eyes had in them so scared a look that Helen
said no more on that subject, but made arrangements for her coming to
them at once. Morris was to leave his patient some medicine, and while
he was preparing it Helen had time to notice her more carefully,
admiring her ladylike manners, and thinking her smile the sweetest she
had ever seen. Especially was this the case when it was given to Morris,
and Helen felt that in his presence Miss Hazelton was, if possible,
softer, sweeter, more gracious than before; and still there was nothing
immodest or unwomanly in her manner, nothing but that peculiar air which
attractive women sometimes put on before the other sex. She might not
have been conscious of it herself; and yet, when once she met Helen's
eyes as she was smiling gratefully upon Dr. Morris, there came a sudden
change into her face, and she bit her lip with evident vexation. Could
it be that she was fascinated by the young physician who had attended
her so long, and who, within the last few months, had grown so popular?
Helen asked herself this question several times on her way home, and
inquired of Morris what he knew of her.
"Nothing, except that she came to North Silverton a year ago, opening
her shop, and by her faithfulness, and pleasant, obliging manners,
winning favor with all who employed her. Previous to her sickness she
had a few times attended St. Paul's at South Silverton, that being the
church of her choice. Had Helen never observed her?"
No, Helen had not. And then she spoke of her fainting, telling how
sudden it was and wondering if she was subject to such turns. Marian
Hazelton had made a strong impression on Helen's mind, and she talked
of her so much that Katy waited her appearance at the farmhouse with
feverish anxiety. It was evening when she came, looking very white, and
seeming to Helen as if she had changed since she saw her first. In her
eyes there was a kind of hopeless, weary expression, while her smile
made one almost wish to cry, it was so sad, and yet so strangely sweet.
Katy felt its influence at once, growing very confidential with the
stranger, who, during the half hour in which they were accidentally left
alone, drew from her every particular concerning her intended marriage.
Very closely the dark blue eyes scrutinized little Katy, taking in first
the faultless beauty of her face, and then going away down into the
inmost depths of her character, as if to find out what was there.
"Pure, loving, innocent, and unsuspecting," was Marian Hazelton's
verdict, and she followed wistfully every movement of the young girl as
she flitted around the room, chatting as familiarly with the dressmaker
as if she were a friend long known instead of an entire stranger.
"You look very young to be married," said Miss Hazelton to her once, and
shaking back her short rings of hair Katy answered: "Eighteen next
Fourth of July; but Mr. Cameron is thirty."
"Is he a widower?" was the next question, which Katy answered with a
merry laugh. "Mercy, no! I marry a widower! How funny! I don't believe
he ever cared a fig for anybody but me. I mean to ask him."
"I would," and the pale lips shut tightly together, while a resentful
gleam shot for a moment across Marian's face; but it quickly passed
away, and her smile was as sweet as ever as she at last bade the family
good-night and repaired to the little room where Wilford Cameron once
had slept.
A long time she stood before the glass, brushing her dark, abundant
hair, and intently regarding her own features, while in her eyes there
was a hard, terrible look, from which Katy Lennox would have shrunk
abashed. But that too passed, and the eyes grew soft with tears as she
turned away, and falling on her knees moaned sadly: "I never will--no, I
never will, God help me to keep the promise. Were it the other--Helen--I
might, for she could bear it; but Katy, that child---no, I never will,"
and as the words died on her lips there came struggling up from her
heart a prayer for Katy Lennox's happiness, as fervent and sincere as
any which had ever been made for her since she was betrothed.
They grew to liking each other rapidly, Marian and Katy, the latter of
whom thought her new friend greatly out of place as a dressmaker,
telling her she ought to marry some rich man, calling her Marian
altogether, and questioning her very closely of her previous life. But
Marian only told her that she was born in London; that she learned her
trade on the Isle of Wight, near to the Osborne House, where the royal
family sometimes came, and that she had often seen the present Queen,
thus trying to divert Katy's mind from asking what there was besides
that apprenticeship to the Misses True on the Isle of Wight. Once,
indeed, she went further, learning that Marian's friends were dead; that
she had come to America in hopes of doing better than she could at home;
that she had stayed in New York until her health began to fail, and then
had tried what country air would do, coming to North Silverton because
a young woman who worked in the same shop was acquainted there, and
recommended the place. This was all Katy could learn, and Marian's heart
history, if she had one, was guarded carefully. One day as they sat
together alone, when Helen had gone to the village to do some shopping
for Katy, Marian abruptly said: "I have lived in New York, you know,
and why do you not ask if I ever saw these Camerons?"
"You! did you?--have you, really?--and what are they like?" Katy almost
screamed, skipping across the floor and seating herself by Marian, who
replied: "Much like other ladies of their stamp--proud and fashionable.
The father I never saw, but your Mr. Cameron I used to see in the street
driving his handsome bays."
Anything relating to the pride and fashion of her future relations made
Katy uncomfortable, and she remained silent, cutting into bits a piece
of silk, until Marian continued: "Sometimes there was a child in the
Cameron carriage. Do you know who it was?"
Delighted that she too could impart information, Katy hastened to say
that it was probably "little Jamie, the orphan grandchild, whose parents
died in Italy. Morris told me he met them in Paris, and he said Jamie's
father died of consumption, and the mother, too, either then or
afterward. At all events Jamie is an orphan and a cripple. He will never
walk, Morris says; and he told me so much about him--how patient he was
and how good."
Katy did not see the tears which threatened to mar the silk on which
Marian Hazelton was working, for they were brushed away almost as
quickly as they came, while in her usual voice she asked: "What was the
cause of his lameness?"
"I don't know just how it happened," Katy replied, "but believe it
resulted from the carelessness of a servant in leaving him alone, or
something."
"A servant!" Marian repeated, a flush rising to her cheek and a strange
light flashing on her eye.
She had heard all she cared to hear of the Camerons that day, and
she was glad when Helen returned from the village, as her appearance
diverted Katy's mind into another channel, and in examining the dress
trimmings which Helen had brought, she forgot to talk of Jamie Cameron.
The trimmings, fringe and buttons were for the wedding dress, the one in
which Katy was to be married, and which Helen reserved the right to make
to herself. Miss Hazelton must fit it, of course, but to her belonged
the privilege of making it, every stitch; Katy would think more of it if
she did it all, she said; but she did not confess how the bending over
that one dress, both early and late, was the escape valve for the
feeling which otherwise would have found vent in passionate tears. Helen
was very wretched during the pleasant May days she usually enjoyed so
much, but over which now a dark pall was spread, shutting out all the
brightness and leaving only the terrible certainty that Katy was lost to
her forever--bright, frolicsome Katy, who, without a shadow on her heart
sported amid the bridal finery, unmindful of the anguish tugging at the
hearts of both the patient women, Marian and Helen, who worked on so
silently, reserving their tears for the night time, when Katy lay
sweetly sleeping and dreaming of Wilford Cameron. Helen had ceased to
think that Hiss Hazelton had any designs on Dr. Grant, for her manner
toward Uncle Ephraim was just as soft and conciliating, and she
dismissed that subject from her mind with the reflection that it was the
nature of some girls to be very pretty to the gentlemen, without meaning
any harm. She liked Marian on the whole, regarding her as a quiet woman,
who knew her business and kept to it, but never guessing that her
feelings, too, were stirred to their very depths as the bridal
preparations progressed. She only knew how wretched she was herself, and
how hard it was to fight her tears back as she bent over the plaided
silk, weaving in with every stitch a part of the clinging love which
each day grew stronger for the only sister, who would soon be gone,
leaving her alone. Only once did she break entirely down, and that was
when the dress was done and Katy tried it on, admiring its effect, and
having a second glass brought that she might see it behind.
"Isn't it lovely?" she exclaimed; "and the more valuable because you
made it, I shall think of you every time I wear it," and the impulsive
girl found her arms around Helen's neck, kissing her lovingly, while
Helen sank into a chair and sobbed aloud: "Oh, Katy, darling Katy! you
won't forget me when you are rich and admired and can have all you want?
You will remember us here at home, so sad and lonely? You don't know how
desolate it will be, knowing you are gone, never to come back again,
just as you go away."
In an instant Katy was on her knees before Helen whom she tried to
comfort by telling her how she should come back, come often, too,
staying a long while; and that when she had a city home of her own
she should live with her for good, and they would be so happy.
"I cannot quite give Wilford up to please you," she said, when that
gigantic sacrifice suggested itself as something which it was possible
Helen might require of her; "but I will do anything else, only please
don't cry, darling Nellie--please don't cry. It spoils all my pleasure,"
and Katy's soft hands wiped away the tears running so fast over her
sister's face.
After that Helen did not cry again in Katy's presence, but the latter
knew she wanted to and it made her rather sad, particularly when she saw
reflected in the faces of the other members of the family the grief she
had witnessed in Helen. Even Uncle Ephraim was not as cheerful as usual,
and once when Katy came upon him in the woodshed chamber, where he was
shelling corn, she found him resting from his work and looking from the
window far off across the hills, with a look which made her guess he was
thinking of her, and stealing up beside him she laid her hand upon his
wrinkled face, whispering softly: "Poor Uncle Eph, are you sorry, too?"
He knew what she meant, and the aged chin quivered, while a big tear
dropped into the tub of corn, as he replied: "Yes, Katy-did--very
sorry."
That was all he said, and Katy, after smoothing his cheek a moment
kissed his silvery hair and then stole away, wondering if every girl's
family felt so badly before she was married, and wondering next if the
love to which she was going was equal to the love of home, which, as the
days went by, grew stronger and stronger, enfolding her in a mighty
embrace, which could only be severed by bitter tears and fierce
heart-pangs, such as death itself sometimes brings. In that household
there was, after Katy, no one glad of that marriage except the mother,
and she was only glad because of the position it would bring to her
daughter. But among them all Morris suffered most, and suffered more
because he had to endure in secret, to cover up his sorrow so that no
one guessed the pain it was for him to go each day where Katy was, and
watch her as she sometimes donned a part of her finery for his benefit,
asking him once if he did not almost wish he were in Wilford's place, so
as to have as pretty a bride as she should make. Then Marian Hazelton
glanced up in time to see the expression of his face, a look whose
meaning she readily recognized, and when Dr. Grant left the farmhouse
that day, another than himself knew of his love for Katy, drawing her
breath hurriedly as she thought of taking back the words "I never will,"
of revoking the decision and telling Katy what Wilford Cameron should
have told her long before. But the wild wish fled, and Wilford's secret
was safe, while Marian watched Morris Grant with a pitying interest as
he came among them, speaking always in the same kind, gentle tone, and
trying so hard to enter into Katy's joy.
"His burden is greater than mine. God help us both," Marian said, as she
resumed her work.
And so amid joy and gladness, silent tears and breaking hearts the
preparations went on until all was done, and only three days remained
before the eventful tenth. Marian Hazelton was going home, for she would
not stay at the farmhouse until all was over, notwithstanding Katy's
entreaties, joined to those of Helen.
"Perhaps she would come to the church," she said, "though she could not
promise;" and her manner was so strange as she gathered up her things
that Katy wondered if in any way she could have been offended, and at
last said to her timidly, as she stood with her bonnet on waiting for
Uncle Ephraim: "You are not angry with me for anything, are you?"
"Angry with you!" and Katy never forgot the glitter of the tearful eyes,
or their peculiar expression as they turned upon her. "No, oh, no; I
could not be angry with you, and yet, Katy Lennox, some in my position
would hate you, contrasting your prospects with their own; but I do not;
I love you; I bless you, and pray that you may be happy with your
husband; honor him, obey him if need be, and above all, never give him
the slightest cause to doubt you. You will have admirers, Katy Lennox.
In New York others than your husband will speak to you words of
flattery, but don't you listen. Remember what I tell you; and now,
again, God bless you."
She touched her lips to Katy's forehead, and when they were withdrawn
there were great tears there which she had left! Marian's tears on
Katy's brow; and truly, it was very meet that just before her bridal day
Wilford Cameron's bride should receive such baptism from Marian
Hazelton.