EDITH'S TROUBLES.
Late in the spring Ensign Michael Shields received orders to join his
regiment in Canada, and upon their reception he had an explanation with
Edith, and with her permission, had requested her hand of her uncle,
Commodore Waugh. This threw the veteran into a towering passion, and
nearly drove him from his proprieties as host. The young ensign was
unacceptable to him upon every account. First and foremost, he wasn't
"Grim," Then he was an Israelite. And, lastly! horror of horrors! he was
a British officer, and dared to aspire to the hand of Edith. It was in
vain that his wife, the good Henrietta, tried to mollify him; the storm
raged for several days--raged, till it had expended all its strength,
and subsided from exhaustion. Then he called Edith and tried to talk the
matter over calmly with her.
"Now all I have to say to you, Edith, is this," he concluded, "that if
you will have the good sense to marry Mr. Grimshaw, these intentions
shall be more than fulfilled--they shall be anticipated. Upon your
marriage with Grimshaw, I will give you a conveyance of Luckenough--only
reserving to myself and Old Hen a house, and a life-support in the
place; but if you will persist in your foolish preference for that
young scamp, I will give you--nothing. That is all, Edith."
During the speech Edith remained standing, with her eyes fixed upon the
floor. Now, she spoke in a tremulous voice:
"That is all--is it not, uncle? You will not deprive me of any portion
of your love; will you, uncle?"
"I do not know, Edith! I cannot tell; when you have deliberately chosen
one of your own fancy, in preference to one of mine--the man I care most
for in the world, and whom I chose especially for you; why, you've
speared me right through a very tender part; however, as I said before,
what you do, do quickly! I cannot bear to be kept upon the tenter
hooks!"
"I will talk with Michael, uncle," said Edith, meekly.
She went out, and found him pacing the lawn at the back of the house.
He turned toward her with a glad smile, took her hand as she approached
him, and pressed it to his lips.
"Dearest Edith, where have you been so long?"
"With my uncle, Michael. I have my uncle's 'ultimatum,' as he calls it."
"What is it, Edith?"
"Ah! how shall I tell you without offense? But, dearest Michael you will
not mind--you will forgive an old man's childish prejudices, especially
when you know they are not personal--but circumstantial, national,
bigoted."
"Well, Edith! well?"
"Michael, he says--he says that I may give you my hand--"
"Said he so! Bless that fair hand, and bless him who bestows it!" he
exclaimed, clasping her fingers and pressing them to his lips.
"Yes, Michael, but--"
"But what! there is no but; he permits you to give me your hand; there
is then no but--'a jailer to bring forth some monstrous malefactor.'"
"Yet listen! You know I was to have been his heiress!"
"No, indeed I did not know it! never heard it! never suspected it! never
even thought of it! How did I know but that he had sons and daughters,
or nephews away at school!"
"Well, I was to have been his heiress. Now he disinherits me, unless I
consent to be married to his friend and favorite, Dr. Grimshaw."
"You put the case gently and delicately, dear Edith, but the hard truth
is this--is it not--that he will disinherit you, if you consent to be
mine? You need not answer me, dearest Edith, if you do not wish to; but
listen--I have nothing but my sword, and beyond my boundless love
nothing to offer you but the wayward fate of a soldier's wife. Your eyes
are full of tears. Speak, Edith Lance! Can you share the soldier's
wandering life? Speak, Edith, or lay your hand in mine. Yet, no! no! no!
I am selfish and unjust. Take time, love, to think of all you abandon,
all that you may encounter in joining your fate to mine. God knows what
it has cost me to say it--but--take time, Edith," and he pressed and
dropped her hand.
"I do not need to do so. My answer to-day, to-morrow, and forever, must
be the same," she answered, in a very low voice; and her eyes sought the
ground, and the blush deepened on her cheek, as she laid her hand in
his. How he pressed that white hand, to his lips, to his heart! How he
clasped her to his breast! How he vowed to love and cherish her as the
dearest treasure of his life need not here be told.
Edith said:
"Now take me in to uncle, and tell him, for he asked me not to keep him
in suspense."
Michael led her into the hall, where the commodore strode up
and down, making the old rafters tremble and quake with every
tread--puffing--blowing over his fallen hopes, like a nor'-wester
over the dead leaves.
Michael advanced, holding the hand of his affianced, and modestly
announced their engagement.
"Humph! So the precious business is concluded, is it?"
"Yes, sir," said Michael, with a bow.
"Well, I hope you may be as happy as you deserve! When is the proceeding
to come off?"
"What, sir?"
"The marriage, young gentleman?"
"When shall I say, dearest Edith?" asked Michael, stooping to her ear.
"When uncle pleases," murmured the girl.
"Uncle pleases nothing, and will have nothing to do with it, except to
advise as early a day as possible," he blurted out; "what says the
bride?"
"Answer, dearest Edith," entreated Michael Shields.
"Then let it be at New Year," said Edith, falteringly.
"Whew!--six months ahead! Entirely too far off!" exclaimed the
commodore.
"And so it really is, beloved," whispered Michael.
"Let it be next week," abruptly broke in the commodore. "What's the use
of putting it off? Tuesdays and Thursdays are the marrying days, I
believe; let it then be Tuesday or Thursday."
"Tuesday," pleaded Michael.
"Thursday," murmured Edith.
"The deuce!--if you can't decide, I must decide for you," growled Old
Nick, storming down toward the extremity of the hall, and roaring--"Old
Hen! Old Hen! These fools are to be spliced on Sunday! Now bring me my
pipe;" and the commodore withdrew to his sanctum.
Good Henrietta came in, took the hand of the young ensign, and pressed
it warmly, saying that he would have a good wife, and wishing them both
much happiness in their union. She drew Edith to her bosom, and kissed
her fondly, but in silence.
As this was Friday evening, little preparations could be made for the
solemnity to take place on Sunday. Yet Mrs. Henrietta exerted herself to
do all possible honor to the occasion. That very evening she sent out a
few invitations to the dinner and ball, that in those days invariably
celebrated a country wedding. She even invited a few particular friends
to meet the bridal pair at dinner, on their return from church.
The little interval between this and Sunday morning was passed by Edith
and Shields in making arrangements for their future course.
Sunday came.
A young lady of the neighborhood officiated as bridesmaid, and
Cloudesley Mornington as groomsman. The ceremony was to be performed at
the Episcopal Church at Charlotte Hall. The bridal party set forward in
two carriages. They were attended by the commodore and Mrs. Waugh. They
reached the church at an early hour, and the marriage was solemnized
before the morning service. When the entries had been made, and the
usual congratulations passed, the party returned to the carriages.
Before entering his own, Commodore Waugh approached that in which the
bride and bridegroom were already seated, and into which the groomsman
was about to hand the bridesmaid.
"Stay, you two, you need not enter just yet," said the old man, "I want
to speak with Mr. Shields and his wife, Edith!"
Edith put her head forward, eagerly.
"I have nothing against you; but after what has occurred, I don't want
to see you at Luckenough again. Good-by!" Then, turning to Shields, he
said, "I will have your own and your wife's goods forwarded to the
hotel, here," and nodding gruffly, he strode away.
Cloudesley stormed, Edith begged that the carriage might be delayed yet
a little while. Vain Edith's hope, and vain Mrs. Waugh's expostulations,
Old Nick was not to be mollified. He said that "those who pleased to
remain with the new-married couple, might do so--he should go home! They
did as they liked, and he should do as he liked." Mrs. Waugh,
Cloudesley, and the bridesmaid determined to stay.
The commodore entered his carriage, and was driven toward home.
The party then adjourned to the hotel. Mrs. Waugh comforting Edith,
and declaring her intention to stay with her as long as she should
remain in the neighborhood--for Henrietta always did as she pleased,
notwithstanding the opposition of her stormy husband. The young
bridesmaid and Cloudesley also expressed their determination to stand
by their friends to the last.
Their patience was not put to a very long test. In a few days a packet
was to sail from Benedict to Baltimore, and the young couple took
advantage of the opportunity, and departed, with the good wishes of
their few devoted friends.
Their destination was Toronto, in Canada, where the young ensign's
regiment was quartered.