Four weeks later Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley was entertaining a gay
luncheon company, in a sumptuous drawing-room on Telegraph Hill, with
some capital imitations of the voices and gestures of certain popular
actors and San Franciscan literary people and Bonanza grandees. He was
elegantly upholstered, and was a handsome fellow, barring a trifling
cast in his eye. He seemed very jovial, but nevertheless he kept his eye
on the door with an expectant and uneasy watchfulness. By and by a nobby
lackey appeared, and delivered a message to the mistress, who nodded her
head understandingly. That seemed to settle the thing for Mr. Burley;
his vivacity decreased little by little, and a dejected look began to
creep into one of his eyes and a sinister one into the other.
The rest of the company departed in due time, leaving him with the
mistress, to whom he said:
“There is no longer any question about it. She avoids me. She
continually excuses herself. If I could see her, if I could speak to her
only a moment--but this suspense--”
“Perhaps her seeming avoidance is mere accident, Mr. Burley. Go to
the small drawing-room up-stairs and amuse yourself a moment. I will
despatch a household order that is on my mind, and then I will go to her
room. Without doubt she will be persuaded to see you.”
Mr. Burley went up-stairs, intending to go to the small drawing-room,
but as he was passing “Aunt Susan's” private parlor, the door of which
stood slightly ajar, he heard a joyous laugh which he recognized; so
without knock or announcement he stepped confidently in. But before he
could make his presence known he heard words that harrowed up his soul
and chilled his young blood, he heard a voice say:
“Darling, it has come!”
Then he heard Rosannah Ethelton, whose back was toward him, say:
“So has yours, dearest!”
He saw her bowed form bend lower; he heard her kiss something--not
merely once, but again and again! His soul raged within him. The
heartbreaking conversation went on:
“Rosannah, I knew you must be beautiful, but this is dazzling, this is
blinding, this is intoxicating!”
“Alonzo, it is such happiness to hear you say it. I know it is not true,
but I am so grateful to have you think it is, nevertheless! I knew you
must have a noble face, but the grace and majesty of the reality beggar
the poor creation of my fancy.”
Burley heard that rattling shower of kisses again.
“Thank you, my Rosannah! The photograph flatters me, but you must not
allow yourself to think of that. Sweetheart?”
“Yes, Alonzo.”
“I am so happy, Rosannah.”
“Oh, Alonzo, none that have gone before me knew what love was, none that
come after me will ever know what happiness is. I float in a gorgeous
cloud land, a boundless firmament of enchanted and bewildering ecstasy!”
“Oh, my Rosannah!--for you are mine, are you not?”
“Wholly, oh, wholly yours, Alonzo, now and forever! All the day long,
and all through my nightly dreams, one song sings itself, and its sweet
burden is, 'Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Eastport, state
of Maine!'”
“Curse him, I've got his address, anyway!” roared Burley, inwardly, and
rushed from the place.
Just behind the unconscious Alonzo stood his mother, a picture of
astonishment. She was so muffled from head to heel in furs that nothing
of herself was visible but her eyes and nose. She was a good allegory of
winter, for she was powdered all over with snow.
Behind the unconscious Rosannah stood “Aunt Susan,” another picture of
astonishment. She was a good allegory of summer, for she was lightly
clad, and was vigorously cooling the perspiration on her face with a
fan.
Both of these women had tears of joy in their eyes.
“Soho!” exclaimed Mrs. Fitz Clarence, “this explains why nobody has been
able to drag you out of your room for six weeks, Alonzo!”
“So ho!” exclaimed Aunt Susan, “this explains why you have been a hermit
for the past six weeks, Rosannah!”
The young couple were on their feet in an instant, abashed, and standing
like detected dealers in stolen goods awaiting judge Lynch's doom.
“Bless you, my son! I am happy in your happiness. Come to your mother's
arms, Alonzo!”
“Bless you, Rosannah, for my dear nephew's sake! Come to my arms!”
Then was there a mingling of hearts and of tears of rejoicing on
Telegraph Hill and in Eastport Square.
Servants were called by the elders, in both places. Unto one was given
the order, “Pile this fire high, with hickory wood, and bring me a
roasting-hot lemonade.”
Unto the other was given the order, “Put out this fire, and bring me two
palm-leaf fans and a pitcher of ice-water.”
Then the young people were dismissed, and the elders sat down to talk
the sweet surprise over and make the wedding plans.
Some minutes before this Mr. Burley rushed from the mansion on Telegraph
Hill without meeting or taking formal leave of anybody. He hissed
through his teeth, in unconscious imitation of a popular favorite in
melodrama, “Him shall she never wed! I have sworn it! Ere great Nature
shall have doffed her winter's ermine to don the emerald gauds of
spring, she shall be mine!”