yet. That might come later, but Jacob was now in the midst of his
troubles, and was having a hard time. But there was peace between him
and Mr Fleming. In former days the old man's eyes had never lighted on
his enemy, either in church or market, as all the world knew. But
to-day it was Jacob who tied old Kelso in the shed, Davie not being at
hand. He helped Mrs Fleming up the steps too, Cousin Betsey and a good
many other people being there to see, and then the two men walked up the
church aisle together.
"It was as good to Jacob as Mr Fleming's name to a note for a thousand
dollars," Mr Green said afterward. And that was quite true. For a
thousand dollars, more or less, would have made little difference to him
in the present state of affairs, and the open friendliness of the man
who had so long shunned and slighted him, was good and pleasant to him
to-day.
"And it was done on purpose," Betsey told her mother afterward, for Mr
Fleming was not accustomed to say much to any one by salutation on
Sunday, and had passed several of his friends, Betsey herself among the
number, without a word or even a nod of recognition. But he seemed glad
of the chance to say a word to Jacob before them all.
"And it was a good day for Gershom," people said. There was no longer
any question as to union now in church matters, and in other matters as
well. No one had said less about union and brotherly love and a
Christian spirit among brethren than Mr Fleming; but his silent
influence had always been stronger than most men's loudly-spoken
reasons, either for or against the union so much desired, and now his
open adherence to the church in the village did much to decide those who
had long hung back, and it was acknowledged to be a good day by them
all.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
CLIFTON'S SUCCESS.
Jacob Holt was having a hard time, and it did not for the moment make
his troubles any lighter that his younger brother seemed likely, by and
by, to show him a way out of them all. Indeed, it was rather an
aggravation to his troubles to see Clifton's success. He was carrying
out with apparent ease an enterprise on which he had spent time and
strength in vain, and with fewer drawbacks than would have been likely
to come to him had the Gershom Manufacturing Company been formed when he
moved in the matter years ago.
Of course success was for Jacob's benefit, and by and by he would be
able to appreciate and take advantage of it. But in the meantime it was
not a pleasant thing to find himself superseded--left on one side--as he
said to himself often. It was not pleasant to be second where he had so
long been first.
On the whole, Clifton carried himself with as much moderation as could
have been expected toward his elder brother, and he made him useful in
various ways that told for the good of both.
Elizabeth rejoiced greatly, as each month passed over, that her brother
not only showed himself equal to the duties of the position in which he
was placed, but that he seemed to enjoy them, and would, therefore, not
be likely to be tempted to seek other work elsewhere.
Of his work and his plans, and all he meant to do and be in the future,
Clifton said more to his sister than to all the rest of Gershom put
together. He was as frank and free in his talk, and as eagerly claimed
her sympathy and approval as ever he had done in his boyish days about
less important matters, and the chief interest of her life now, as then,
was in throwing herself heartily into all his plans and prospects.
But on one subject he was for the most part silent, and his sister could
only guess at the motives that had chiefly decided him in returning to
Gershom, and at the hopes he might be cherishing with regard to Miss
Langden, and of both motives and hopes she was afraid. She was afraid
that disappointment awaited him, and that the end of it would be to
unsettle him again, and to disgust him with the life he had chosen.
Elizabeth's knowledge of the tacit engagement existing between Miss
Essie and Mr Maxwell made her anxious and unhappy about her brother,
and at the same time it made it difficult for her to say anything that
might incline him to speak more freely to her. For Clifton's first
successful visit to Mr Langden had by no means been his last. Business
took him southward several times during the year, and more than one
visit united business with pleasure. Once he had seen Miss Langden in
her aunt's house in New York, and once he had turned aside to one of the
fashionable summer resorts in the mountains where she was staying with
her aunt's family. He enjoyed both visits, as may be supposed. Miss
Essie was as bright and sweet as ever, and doubtless enjoyed them also.
Even Mrs Weston, who had seen a good deal more of society, and of the
world in general, than her niece, acknowledged that the young Canadian
carried himself well, and held his place among the idle gentlemen who
were helping them and their friends to spend their summer days
agreeably. Mrs Weston would have been as well pleased if he had not
carried himself so well, or made himself so agreeable, as far as her
niece was concerned, though she did not allow him to suspect any such
feelings, and had self-respect enough to say nothing to her niece till
after their visitors had departed.
She did not say much to her even then. She laughed a little at her and
the conquest she had made, declaring that if she were determined to
spend her life in the far North, it would be wise to give up all
thoughts of the parsonage, and make good her claim to be the great lady
of Gershom. Mrs Weston had always laughed at the idea of the
parsonage, and had no thought of allowing her pretty niece to betake
herself to the far North in any circumstances. But she did not express
herself very openly with regard to this. For, with all Miss Essie's
gentleness and sweetness, and her willingness to submit to guidance when
nothing of particular importance to herself was depending upon it, she
had a mind and will of her own, and did not hesitate to assert herself
on occasion, and her aunt had seen enough of this to make her cautious
in dealing with her when their opinions differed. Upon the whole,
however, she thought she had reason to congratulate herself on the
success that had hitherto attended her efforts on her niece's behalf.
Miss Langden, who could "hold her own" among the scores of fine people--
the fashionable and elegant ladies and gentlemen who formed the circle
in which they moved at present--was a very different creature from the
quaint and prudish little school-girl whom her father had brought to New
York a year and a half ago.
"Improved! Yes, indeed," she said to herself, and Mr Langden agreed
with his sister in the main, but on all points was not so sure.
However, he doubted nothing less than that in all essential respects his
good and pretty daughter would come out right in the end. Whether that
might mean the parsonage and the far North, either or both, he did not
say to himself or any one else. He had exchanged no words with his
daughter on the subject, though they had been at Gershom together.
Mrs Weston was not afraid of Mr Maxwell and the parsonage, but, after
his summer visit, she was a little afraid of Clifton Holt. She knew how
high he stood both as to character and capabilities in the opinion of
Essie's father, and though he had not liked the idea of his daughter's
marriage with the minister, she thought it possible that he might not
object seriously a second time, should Essie indeed prefer the new
aspirant to her favour.
But all the same her aunt did not intend that either of them should have
her pretty niece if she could manage matters so as to prevent it.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
CONCLUSION.
Clifton went southward again not long after his summer visit to the
mountains, and on his return he had more to say about what he had seen
and done and enjoyed than was usual with him. Whether he was led into
doing so by the fact that Mr Maxwell had come in for the evening, and
took pleasure in hearing about old friends and familiar scenes, or
whether he spoke with intention, Elizabeth could not afterward decide.
He had not seen Miss Langden at this time. She was paying a visit to
friends at a distance. If she had been visiting her Aunt Maltha, he
would have gone there to see her, he said, as though it were quite his
right to do so, and a matter of course. Elizabeth listened to all this
with much discomfort, and glanced at Mr Maxwell now and then to see how
it was taken. The minister met her glance frankly and smilingly, and
certainly did not seem to have any thought of resenting the young man's
tone and manner.
"He is sure of his ground," thought Elizabeth; "and he can wait; but, my
poor Clifton, I fear he has disappointment before him."
She knew that such a disappointment might be got over, and he be none
the worse, but rather the better, for what he might have to pass
through. But it hurt her beforehand to think of his suffering, and to
think that it must come to him through his friend. Even as the talk
went on between them, she was trying to bring her courage to the point
of asking Mr Maxwell to tell her brother how matters stood between him
and Miss Langden. It was only that they were waiting for the end of the
two years of probation, she supposed, and they were nearly over now.
She came out of her own thoughts in time to hear Mr Maxwell say:
"Yes, I mean to get away for a week or two by and by, and I mean to pass
Thanksgiving either there or with Miss Martha at New B--. If I cannot
get away at that time I shall certainly go later, but I should like to
be there on Thanksgiving Day for various reasons."
Elizabeth looked from one to the other with some surprise. Mr Maxwell
spoke, and Clifton listened, with faces that were grave enough, but the
eyes of both were smiling as they met hers.
"Mr Maxwell ought to tell him," thought she, with a touch of anger at
her heart.
But he did not need to be told. When Mr Maxwell was gone, and Clifton
had returned from seeing him to the gate, he said to his sister:
"Did you know, Lizzie, that Mr Maxwell had once asked Miss Langden to
marry him?"
Elizabeth was moving about the room, putting things in order, as was her
way before going up-stairs for the night. She removed the lamp to the
side-table, and sat down before she answered him.
"Yes, I have long known it. I have often, often wished to tell you, but
I did not feel at liberty to do so."
"And why not, pray? One may surely repeat a rumour of that kind without
a breach of confidence."
"But I did not hear it as a rumour, and I had no permission to repeat
it. And besides, it was Mr Maxwell who told me."
"Rather queer--his telling you, wasn't it?"
"No. In the circumstances it was natural enough. I knew it, or I had
guessed it before he told me."
And then she went on to tell of the first note that Miss Essie had sent
her, because she was one of the Gershom friends of her friend "Will
Maxwell," as she called him. "But it is a long time now since one of
her pretty notes has come to me. But they correspond, and have always
done so, since he came to Gershom."
Clifton said nothing, and his sister was silent for a time. Then she
asked:
"Who told you of their engagement?"
"Engagement! There is no engagement," said Clifton shortly.
"No formal engagement, but that was only because her father thought Miss
Essie too young; but the time of waiting is nearly over now."
"Lizzie, if I had been asked who had been most in Mr Maxwell's thoughts
for the last year I should not certainly have said it was Miss Langden."
"Well, your penetration would have been at fault, that is all."
"And I should not have said that Miss Langden had been giving many of
her thoughts to him, for the last year at least."
"Of that I can say nothing. But who told you of the proposal? Not Mr
Maxwell?"
"No. Mr Langden told me."
"Mr Langden!" exclaimed Elizabeth, and by and by she added: "Is that
all I am to hear, brother?"
"It is all I have to tell at present. Perhaps I may have more by and
by."
"Or perhaps it may be Mr Maxwell who may have something to tell," said
Elizabeth gravely, "when he comes home from Thanksgiving."
Clifton laughed.
"Possibly he may--but--"
"Clifton, I cannot bear to think that Mr Maxwell and you may not always
be friends."
"Well, you needn't fret about it beforehand, need you?" and then he rose
and went away.
They both had something to tell before Thanksgiving Day, but it was not
just what Elizabeth had expected to hear. Clifton did not tell his part
before Thanksgiving, however. Indeed, he never told it. He was away a
good deal about that time; and was so much occupied when he was at home,
that Elizabeth saw less of him, and heard less from him than had ever
been the case before during the same length of time, and she could only
wait till it should be his pleasure to speak. But Mr Maxwell lost no
time in saying to his friend what he had to say.
One fair September morning, about a year after her father's death,
Elizabeth saw the minister coming in at the gate with an open letter in
his hand, and though she could give no reason for the thought, she told
herself at once to prepare for tidings. Her first impulse was to go
away, so as to gain time, for a sharp and sudden pain, which she could
not but fear was not all for her brother, smote her heart as she caught
sight of Mr Maxwell's moved and smiling face. But she felt that it was
better not to go, so she rose and met him at the door.
"Well," she said, smiling and preparing to be glad for him, at least.
Her face was moved out of its usual quiet too, as Mr Maxwell could not
but see, and he said:
"Have you heard anything? Has your brother anything to tell?"
"Clifton is not at home; I have heard nothing."
"Ah, well! All in good time, I suppose."
Mr Maxwell did not sit down, though Elizabeth did, but walked about the
room, looking out first at one window and then at the other in a way
that startled her.
"Well," she said after a little, "I am waiting for your news."
"News? I have no news--yes, I have something to say. I have been
waiting these two years to say it--may I speak, Elizabeth?"
And then he sat down on the sofa beside her. To that which he had to
say Elizabeth listened with a surprise which would have been painful to
her friend if something more than surprise had not soon appeared.
In a few words he told her of the discovery he had made soon after his
return home two years ago, and how he had thought nothing else right or
possible but to wait patiently till the two years of probation were over
to see what might befall. He had not always waited patiently, he
acknowledged. He had had little hope that Miss Holt had more than
friendship to give him, and believed himself to be content with that for
the present, till he had known how, after her father's death, some one
else was asking for the hand for which he had no right to ask, and then
it had gone hard with him.
He had not been blind to Clifton's hopes and pretensions, and he had
been for some time quite aware that whatever Miss Langden might have to
give to Clifton, she had only friendship to give to him. But he had
remained silent because he believed himself bound not to speak to
Elizabeth till the two years were over. And now they were over.
Mr Langden, knowing that his plan was to visit them soon, considered
that he ought to know how he was to be received, and had insisted that
his daughter should tell him her mind distinctly as to her future. It
is not be supposed that she did that altogether, but she acknowledged
that her views of life and duty had somewhat changed, and she feared it
would not be for their mutual happiness to renew her engagement with Mr
Maxwell. A little note to that effect was inclosed in her father's
letter which had reached him this morning, and certainly the minister
had lost no time.
If Elizabeth hesitated to answer the question which came next, it was
not for a reason that seemed to trouble the questioner much. She was
not sure that she would make a good minister's wife--and especially she
was not sure that she would make a good minister's wife for Gershom.
But all that was put aside for the present. She was not afraid to trust
her happiness in the hands of her friend. She was willing to share his
life and his labours, and to do what she could to aid him in his work.
And with that her friend was well content.
When he said something of the inequality of their relations to each
other, because of that which she possessed, she declared herself willing
to let all that pass into the hands of her brothers, and to share the
parsonage and comparative poverty with him. Whether she was showing her
usual wisdom and prudence in making such a declaration, there was no one
there to decide, and when the right time came for the decision it was
not left in her hands.
Clifton did not return home triumphant, as Elizabeth had never doubted
that he would. He was well pleased to hear all she had to tell him of
the new happiness that had come into her life; but he had nothing to
tell her in return. By and by she heard, through Mr Maxwell, that Miss
Langden had gone with her aunt to pass at least a year in Europe, and
then Clifton told her that he had known her plans all along. He said
little about his disappointment, indeed he did not acknowledge himself
disappointed. But he did not succeed in concealing it from Elizabeth.
He went on as usual with all that he had to do, with no less interest
and energy, and with no less success than before.
Mr Langden paid a visit to Gershom in the following spring, and there
was perfect confidence and satisfaction between him and Clifton as far
as business relations were concerned. And hearing his daughter's name
frequently mentioned by him, and taking some other things into
consideration, Elizabeth could not but hope that in good time all things
would end as her brother desired, and since he was silent, she did not
think it would be right for her to speak.
But it did not all end as Clifton wished it to end. Miss Langden
returned with her aunt at the close of the year, as had been expected,
but she returned engaged to marry a New York gentleman whom they had met
abroad. She and Clifton had never been engaged. Her father had
forbidden the young man to speak to her till the two years of Mr
Maxwell's waiting were over, and before that time the European trip was
decided on and close at hand.
This meeting and parting at that time had been all that Clifton could
desire, except that she had refused to bind herself by a promise to him,
and her aunt had sustained her in this, as was perhaps right, knowing
all that she knew. Without her promise Clifton had trusted her
entirely, and doubtless she meant to be true to him.
But temptation came in the form of wealth and family and fashion, and
her aunt was at hand to show her the advantages of these things.
Indeed, it must be said the young lady saw them for herself only too
clearly, and was glad that she had no promise to break to secure them.
If there was any comfort in the knowledge that her father was
disappointed and indignant at what she had done without his knowledge or
consent, Clifton had that comfort, but it possibly did not go far to
help him. He said little about it, but it went hard with him for a
while.
However, he did not make his misery an excuse for neglecting his duty.
He was past the age for such folly now and besides, he was too really
interested in his work not to find it a resource in the time of his
trouble, and the changes which his sister had feared might follow such
disappointment, did not come.
"And after all," she said, comforting herself, "he will get over it in
time." Which was perfectly true.
The new dam and the new establishments of various sorts, which followed
its completion, did much for Gershom. That is to say, they increased
the population and the wealth of the place, and made it more than ever
the centre of the surrounding country as to all business transactions.
But it is a question whether it made it a pleasanter place of residence
for any of our friends there. A state of transition from a country
village to a country town of some importance is never pleasant for the
old residents for a time. But progress is to be desired for all that,
and Gershom is now an incorporated town with a mayor and council-men of
its own, and on the whole it may be considered that its prosperity is
established on a good foundation.
Changes came to the people also, some of them to be rejoiced over, and
some of them not. The High-School lost Mr Burnet as a teacher, which,
considering his utter inability to fall in with certain new-fangled
notions as to schools and schoolmasters, which the influx of new-comers
brought with it, was not a bad thing for him, whatever it might be for
the school. He went home to Scotland to take possession of some money
left to him by an elder brother, who had been a rich man. He came back,
however, to make his home in Canada, as people who have lived in it for
any length of time are almost sure to do.
He brought back with him his two daughters, bonnie lassies of fifteen
and sixteen, and took up his abode with them in the house that had been
the parsonage. The big house on the hill answered the purpose of a
parsonage now. His daughters were nice, merry girls, but they were
quite ignorant of housekeeping matters, and they did not get on very
well with the new ways of the place for a while. They had, perhaps,
been too much restrained by the friends who had brought them up, for
some of the staid people of Gershom thought that they did not know how
to use their liberty wisely.
Perhaps their father thought so too, and that he needed help to guide
them; at any rate, to the surprise of most people, he asked Miss Betsey
Holt to come and take care of them, and of himself also, and after some
hesitation, caused by doubt as to how "mother and Cynthy and Ben would
get along without her," she consented.
All eyes were on the household for a time, for dutiful submission on the
part of the young step-daughters was considered doubtful by a good many
of their friends. It is likely that Betsey had her own troubles with
them till they knew her better, but no one in Gershom was the wiser for
anything that she told them, and things righted themselves in time, as
they always do where good and sensible people are concerned.
Mark Varney redeemed his farm and moor, and carried his mother and his
little daughter home again when Mr Maxwell was married. His farm was
not so large after a time, for a part of it was laid out in building
lots for the new village, and Mark, as the neighbours declared, was soon
"well-to-do," and doing well.
And though he never made so good a speech again as he made that day at
the picnic, he has done for many a suffering and miserable man what in
the first days of his coming to Gershom, Mr Maxwell did for him. He
has followed, and comforted, and brought back to life and hope more than
one or two poor besotted wretches, whom the rising prosperity of Gershom
drew thither in the hope of getting bread. And he has never grown weary
of the work, though sometimes he has had to grieve over ill-success.
It would be going beyond the truth to say that all Gershom was satisfied
when the engagement of Miss Holt and the minister was announced, because
there are some people who are never satisfied. But they whose opinion
they valued most were satisfied. Mrs Fleming and Cousin Betsey had
been hoping for it--almost expecting it all along, and one or two of
Elizabeth's special old-lady friends acknowledged that they had been
praying for such a marriage all the while. As for Katie, it was in her
eyes the only fitting end to the romance which she had guessed at long
ago, and which she had been secretly and silently watching all these
years.
As to whether or not she made a good minister's wife, Elizabeth was
never quite sure. But the minister was content, and so were most of the
people. And even those who were never quite contented with anything,
acknowledged that "she did as well as she knew how," and that would be
high praise for the most of us.
Clifton lived in the old home with them, for his good and their
pleasure, till the time came when he made a home of his own, which,
considering all things, was not so very long a time after all.
Although Jacob's change from the first place to the second both in the
business and in the town was not pleasant to him, it was wholesome. He
had never been equal to the _role_ of the great man of the place, and
after the first feelings of humiliation wore away, and their affairs
began to look prosperous again, the fact that "two heads are better than
one" made itself apparent to him even more clearly than had been the
case in the days when he found his father unable, and his brother
unwilling, to give him help and counsel.