The last day in Halifax--Dexie never forgot it. It was engraved so
indelibly on her memory that time had no power to obliterate it. It had
been a busy day as well as a sad one, and Elsie Gurney spent the most of it
by the side of her friend, helping, as well as hindering her, as the
household goods were being packed for removal. Lancy claimed one hour in
the evening for himself; and as the rooms in the Sherwood household were
almost dismantled, the greater part of the time was spent over the piano in
the Gurneys' parlor, and their heart's good-bye was spoken through the one
piece of music which they called their own.
"Remember, Dexie," and Lancy turned on the piano-stool and took her hands
in his own, "you must not play that piece for anyone; it is yours and mine.
When you are alone and think of me, let your thoughts be expressed through
our own sweet music. Do you know, my Dexie, I believe I shall know when you
are playing to me; that invisible power which we have both felt, but cannot
express, much less give it a name, will still be between us, and when my
heart goes out to you, my darling, it shall be through the same medium.
That piece of music shall be sacred to you alone, and I shall play it for
no one else until I see your dear face again. Do you agree, Dexie?"
"Yes, but I feel as if I shall never have the heart to play anything again,
Lancy," for this parting from her friend hurt her more than she expected.
"Oh! yes, you will;" and he drew her over to the window within the shadow
of the curtains. "The time will soon slip by, and when I go to claim you
it will seem to you like coming back home again. I shall always be looking
forward to that time, Dexie, so remember your promise."
"You must not forget the conditions, Lancy, and if you find your love grows
less, instead of more, be honest with your own heart, and do not, in your
pride, hide it from me. Absence may not 'make the heart grow fonder' in our
case," she added, with a sad smile.
"Do not prophesy evil, but think of the happy present. Are you afraid or
ashamed to own the fact to others, that you care for me at the present
time?"
"No, I do not think any one who knows us will accuse either of us of
bashfulness; the opposite has been laid to my charge until it has become an
old story," she replied.
"Well, seeing that we understand each other, why not wear your ring? I
particularly want Hugh to see it on your finger; I don't believe he has
given you up yet, Dexie. Will you wear it to please me?"
Dexie unclasped the chain from her neck, and Lancy slipped the ring in its
place on her finger.
"I think you need not mind what Hugh says or thinks," she said in a low
tone. "I did not intend to tell you, Lancy, but I will confess now that
Hugh saw that ring on my finger once before," and she told him the
substance of the stolen interview in the upper hall.
"That is how it happens that we are on speaking terms again," she added,
"but when Hugh gets well enough to travel, and begins to realize that he is
a rich man, he will smile at all this foolishness; but if I live a hundred
years, I will never forget that dreadful afternoon in the boat. Lieutenant
Wilbur is going to give him his revolver after I am gone; that will be a
reminder of it which he won't like, I am thinking!"
The next morning the last article was removed from the house, and the last
good-bye given to the friends they must leave behind them. The two families
met for the last time in Mrs. Gurney's parlor, and as they lingered over
the last words, Dexie seated herself at the piano, and there was no quiver
in her voice, though there were tears in her eyes, as she sang:
"Farewell, farewell, is a lonely sound,
And always brings a sigh;
Then give to me, when loved ones part,
That good old word, 'Good-bye.'"
Hugh and Lancy, as well as Elsie and Cora, accompanied the family to the
boat, which was to sail about noon. Hugh lingered near the group on the
steamer, hoping that Dexie would give him some kind word at parting, and at
last Lancy, very generously, took her over to his side, saying:
"Don't look so blue, old fellow; Dexie is not taking a final leave of
Halifax. Time is most up, I expect," he added hastily, as he took out his
watch, then turned aside as he saw Hugh's agitated face.
"It is really settled, then," said Hugh, in a low voice, as he took Dexie's
hand. "I wish you had left something that I could do for you, so that my
life will not feel quite so empty."
"I have no favor to ask of you, Mr. McNeil, yet if I hear that you have
been kind to Nina Gordon it will please me very much. Mind, I do not ask it
of you. If someone would have the goodness of heart to save her from her
mother, she would make a sensible woman yet. If Cora Gurney would only take
a friendly interest in her, I would not be afraid of the future of my
_double_. Good-bye, Mr. McNeil, that is the warning-signal, I believe."
Hugh seemed in no hurry to heed the warning, but stood aside where he could
watch Dexie's face as she parted from Lancy. He heeded not the few hurried
words so earnestly spoken, nor the fervent clasp of their hands, for there
was no answering light in Dexie's eyes as they rested on Lancy's face.
Friends were hurrying across the gang plank, but Hugh waited till Lancy had
disappeared; then stepping to Dexie's side, he hurriedly whispered:
"I was not mistaken! your heart has not yet awakened, as I said! and
Lancy's ring binds no heart but his own. All is fair in love and war, and
my chance is as good as his, after all! _Au revoir_, my little wife!" and
he raised his hat and hurried ashore.
His heart beat rapidly, and though he carried away the memory of Dexie's
indignant look, he stepped across the plank with a firm, light step. Lancy
wondered at the transformation which seemed to have taken place in Hugh
since he had seen him on deck, a few short minutes ago; but they stood
together and watched the receding steamer, until the one that was so dear
to them both was lost to view.
While Dexie was on deck taking her last look of "dear old Halifax," Gussie
hurried below to secure the best accommodation for herself, and she was so
long in deciding the matter that she appeared only in time to wave her
farewell from the deck.
After the bustle of departure had subsided, the steward came forward
bringing a moss-lined basket, filled with choice hothouse flowers, saying:
"A gentleman left this in my care, to be delivered to Miss Dexie Sherwood.
I believe it belongs to one of you ladies."
"Oh, Dexie, they can't _all_ be for you," said Gussie, eagerly, as she
reached out her hand and took the basket from the steward's hands.
"Here is a note directed to me; wait till I see who it is from," and Dexie
picked a tiny roll of paper from among the blossoms. One hasty glance over
the written lines, and Dexie curled her lip in a disdainful smile.
"You may have everyone of them, Gussie, for I don't want them," and she
drew herself away, as if the very touch of the basket were odious to her,
at which Gussie looked up in surprise.
"Hugh McNeil sent them, so you are welcome to everyone of them," she said
in a low voice, as the steward withdrew. "He is very particular to state
that they are for me alone," and her lip curled. "I wish they had been
brought to me while he was by, I would have tossed them overboard before
his eyes! Thank fortune, I have seen the last of him!"
"You will live to be sorry for your treatment of Hugh McNeil, mark my
words! He would not have found me so hard to please," and Gussie placed the
flowers tenderly beside her.
Strange, but the first thing that Dexie did when she reached the privacy
of her stateroom was to snatch Lancy's ring from her finger, almost
angrily, and slipping it again on the chain about her neck she snapped the
catch with no easy hand; and her face was far from being tender and loving
as she put out of sight the pledge of Lancy's love and fidelity, for she
was saying in her heart:
"I will never be so foolish as to put that on my finger again; it was wrong
to wear it at all. Hugh is right; it binds no heart but Lancy's, and I
doubt if I can truly say that much itself, three months from now."
* * * * *
If we look in upon the Sherwood household a few weeks later, we will find
them comfortably settled in the busy town of Lennoxville, a town which is
noted throughout New England for its manufacturing industries. The house is
pleasantly situated a short distance back from the street, allowing room
for a neat lawn in front of the house, which is made more attractive by a
few flower-beds set near the front entrance, and beneath the windows.
The former owner had taken much pleasure in designing the house and its
surroundings, and everything about the premises was neat, convenient and
attractive, but financial difficulties had obliged him to relinquish the
property just when he might naturally expect to reap the benefit of his
labors. Mr. Sherwood had purchased it at a very reasonable figure,
considering the advantages it possessed, and having obtained a permanent
and remunerative position in the office of a large manufacturing firm, the
family had reason to hope that this was their last move for some years.
Dexie was delighted at the possibilities which the well-laid-out kitchen
garden at the rear of the house promised to afford. Everything at present
was bare and sere, but when the spring opened it would require but little
labor, and that of a pleasant description, to prepare a garden that should
delight the heart of any housekeeper; and the flower-beds in the front of
the house, which were now covered and protected by branches of fir, would
in due season blossom into spots of beauty.
The family-life at this time was very pleasant. Gussie seemed to have
forgotten, for the time, all her former jealous and unkind feelings, which
had made her so often, while in Halifax, an unpleasant member of the
household.
Society in Lennoxville was pleasant and attractive, and the Sherwoods were
made right welcome among a choice circle of friends. Invitations to social
gatherings were showered upon the twin girls until their popularity was so
firmly established that no one thought of questioning it.
Dexie missed her Halifax friends very much. She met with no one in her new
home who could fill the place that the Gurney family had held in her heart,
and among all her many friends there was none she could make such an
intimate companion of as Elsie Gurney. In musical circles, Dexie soon
filled an envious position; but so far she had met no one whose sympathies
were like Lancy's. Oh, yes, she missed Lancy very much, indeed--she never
hesitated to confess it when the matter was alluded to; and very often,
when alone in the parlor, the piece of music which had such a strange power
over each of them filled the air with unmistakable longing, and seemed to
speak of loneliness and sorrow. But her bright face expressed no such sad
feeling to others; it seemed only the musical side of her nature that
mourned the loss of a kind and sympathetic friend.
She heard quite frequently from Elsie, and Lancy's weekly letters were
always bright and chatty; but they left Dexie with a certain uneasy feeling
that should have had no place in her heart, if Lancy's expressed regards
met with the reciprocation which he had some right to expect.
She would not have cared to confess to the relief she experienced when,
some weeks later, Lancy wrote to her of his intended visit to England,
where he meant to spend a few months among his relatives in Devonshire; and
the thought that the wide ocean would be between them, did not cause the
same regretful feeling in her heart as it did in Lancy's. Once since they
had left Halifax, Dexie, to her surprise, received a letter from Hugh
McNeil, that had come enclosed in one to her father. Mr. Sherwood said
little as to the contents of his letter; but the earnest, passionate words
in Dexie's left no doubt in her mind that Hugh had small intention of
giving up his suit, though for the present he would leave her in peace.
He told her of his intention of making a journey to Australia, to visit the
last resting-place of his father; and after an extended journey, he hoped
to come back and find all the unpleasantness in the past forgiven and
forgotten.
For some time after the letter was received, Dexie fancied that her father
regarded her with more attention than was necessary; but it soon passed
from her mind without giving her the slightest suspicion that Hugh had
placed in her father's hands a substantial and unmistakable proof of the
genuineness of his regard.
This was to be unknown to her until such a time as circumstances rendered
it necessary to communicate the facts. But if he survived the dangers of
the passage, and returned safely and found her still free, he would again
endeavor to gain her consent to a closer relationship.
Fortunately for Dexie's peace of mind, Mr. Sherwood kept the matter to
himself; but the fact that both Hugh and Lancy intended to put the ocean
between them and herself, even for a short time, gave her a sense of relief
and security which she would have found it difficult to explain.