“Because I was afraid my head would be turned by the fine things you
were saying.”
“It is impossible to help saying what one feels to such an artless
little creature as you are. It does me good to admire anything so fresh
and sweet, and won’t harm you.”
“It might if—”
“If what, my daisy?”
“I believed it,” and a laugh seemed to finish the broken sentence better
than the words.
“You may, Ruth, for I do sincerely admire the most genuine girl I have
seen for a long time. And walking here with you in your bridal white I
was just asking myself if I should not be a happier man with a home of
my own and a little wife hanging on my arm than drifting about the world
as I do now with only myself to care for.”
“I know you would!” and Ruth spoke so earnestly that Randal was both
touched and startled, fearing he had ventured too far in a mood of
unwonted sentiment, born of the romance of the hour and the sweet
frankness of his companion.
“Then you don’t think it would be rash for some sweet woman to take me
in hand and make me happy, since fame is a failure?”
“Oh, no; it would be easy work if she loved you. I know some one—if I
only dared to tell her name.”
“Upon my soul, this is cool,” and Randal looked down, wondering if the
audacious lady on his arm could be shy Ruth.
If he had seen the malicious merriment in her eyes he would have been
more humiliated still, but they were modestly averted, and the face
under the little hat was full of a soft agitation rather dangerous even
to a man of the world.
“She is a captivating little creature, but it is too soon for anything
but a mild flirtation. I must delay further innocent revelations or I
shall do something rash.”
While making this excellent resolution Randal had been pressing the hand
upon his arm and gently pacing down the dimly lighted hall with the
sound of music in his ears, Ruth’s sweetest roses in his button-hole,
and a loving little girl beside him, as he thought.
“You shall tell me by and by when we are in town. I am sure you will
come, and meanwhile don’t forget me.”
“I am going in the spring, but I shall not be with Sophie,” answered
Ruth, in a whisper.
“With whom then? I shall long to see you.”
“With my husband. I am to be married in May.”
“The deuce you are!” escaped Randal, as he stopped short to stare at his
companion, sure she was not in earnest.
But she was, for as he looked the sound of steps coming up the back
stairs made her whole face flush and brighten with the unmistakable glow
of happy love, and she completed Randal’s astonishment by running into
the arms of the young minister, saying with an irrepressible laugh, “Oh!
John, why didn’t you come before?”
The court gentleman was all right in a moment, and the coolest of the
three as he offered his congratulations and gracefully retired, leaving
the lovers to enjoy the tryst he had delayed. But as he went down stairs
his brows were knit, and he slapped the broad railing smartly with his
cocked hat as if some irritation must find vent in a more energetic way
than merely saying, “Confound the little baggage!” under his breath.
Such an amazing supper came from Aunt Plumy’s big pantry that the city
guests could not eat for laughing at the queer dishes circulating
through the rooms, and copiously partaken of by the hearty young folks.
Doughnuts and cheese, pie and pickles, cider and tea, baked beans and
custards, cake and cold turkey, bread and butter, plum pudding and
French bonbons, Sophie’s contribution.
“May I offer you the native delicacies, and share your plate. Both are
very good, but the china has run short, and after such vigorous exercise
as you have had you must need refreshment. I’m sure I do!” said Randal,
bowing before Emily with a great blue platter laden with two doughnuts,
two wedges of pumpkin pie and two spoons.
The smile with which she welcomed him, the alacrity with which she made
room beside her and seemed to enjoy the supper he brought, was so
soothing to his ruffled spirit that he soon began to feel that there is
no friend like an old friend, that it would not be difficult to name a
sweet woman who would take him in hand and would make him happy if he
cared to ask her, and he began to think he would by and by, it was so
pleasant to sit in that green corner with waves of crimson brocade
flowing over his feet, and a fine face softening beautifully under his
eyes.
The supper was not romantic, but the situation was, and Emily found that
pie ambrosial food eaten with the man she loved, whose eyes talked more
eloquently than the tongue just then busy with a doughnut. Ruth kept
away, but glanced at them as she served her company, and her own happy
experience helped her to see that all was going well in that quarter.
Saul and Sophie emerged from the back entry with shining countenances,
but carefully avoided each other for the rest of the evening. No one
observed this but Aunt Plumy from the recesses of her pantry, and she
folded her hands as if well content, as she murmured fervently over a
pan full of crullers, “Bless the dears! Now I can die happy.”
Every one thought Sophie’s old-fashioned dress immensely becoming, and
several of his former men said to Saul with blunt admiration, “Major,
you look to-night as you used to after we’d gained a big battle.”
“I feel as if I had,” answered the splendid Major, with eyes much
brighter than his buttons, and a heart under them infinitely prouder
than when he was promoted on the field of honor, for his Waterloo was
won.
There was more dancing, followed by games, in which Aunt Plumy shone
pre-eminent, for the supper was off her mind and she could enjoy
herself. There were shouts of merriment as the blithe old lady twirled
the platter, hunted the squirrel, and went to Jerusalem like a girl of
sixteen; her cap in a ruinous condition, and every seam of the purple
dress straining like sails in a gale. It was great fun, but at midnight
it came to an end, and the young folks, still bubbling over with
innocent jollity, went jingling away along the snowy hills, unanimously
pronouncing Mrs. Basset’s party the best of the season.
“Never had such a good time in my life!” exclaimed Sophie, as the family
stood together in the kitchen where the candles among the wreaths were
going out, and the floor was strewn with wrecks of past joy.
“I’m proper glad, dear. Now you all go to bed and lay as late as you
like to-morrow. I’m so kinder worked up I couldn’t sleep, so Saul and me
will put things to rights without a mite of noise to disturb you;” and
Aunt Plumy sent them off with a smile that was a benediction, Sophie
thought.
“The dear old soul speaks as if midnight was an unheard-of hour for
Christians to be up. What would she say if she knew how we seldom go to
bed till dawn in the ball season? I’m so wide awake I’ve half a mind to
pack a little. Randal must go at two, he says, and we shall want his
escort,” said Emily, as the girls laid away their brocades in the great
press in Sophie’s room.
“I’m not going. Aunt can’t spare me, and there is nothing to go for
yet,” answered Sophie, beginning to take the white chrysanthemums out of
her pretty hair.
“My dear child, you will die of ennui up here. Very nice for a week or
so, but frightful for a winter. We are going to be very gay, and cannot
get on without you,” cried Emily, dismayed at the suggestion.
“You will have to, for I’m not coming. I am very happy here, and so
tired of the frivolous life I lead in town, that I have decided to try a
better one,” and Sophie’s mirror reflected a face full of the sweetest
content.
“Have you lost your mind? experienced religion? or any other dreadful
thing? You always were odd, but this last freak is the strangest of all.
What will your guardian say, and the world?” added Emily in the
awe-stricken tone of one who stood in fear of the omnipotent Mrs.
Grundy.
“Guardy will be glad to be rid of me, and I don’t care that for the
world,” cried Sophie, snapping her fingers with a joyful sort of
recklessness which completed Emily’s bewilderment.
“But Mr. Hammond? Are you going to throw away millions, lose your chance
of making the best match in the city, and driving the girls of our set
out of their wits with envy?”
Sophie laughed at her friend’s despairing cry, and turning round said
quietly,—
“I wrote to Mr. Hammond last night, and this evening received my reward
for being an honest girl. Saul and I are to be married in the spring
when Ruth is.”
Emily fell prone upon the bed as if the announcement was too much for
her, but was up again in an instant to declare with prophetic
solemnity,—
“I knew something was going on, but hoped to get you away before you
were lost. Sophie, you will repent. Be warned, and forget this sad
delusion.”
“Too late for that. The pang I suffered yesterday when I thought Saul
was dead showed me how well I loved him. To-night he asked me to stay,
and no power in the world can part us. Oh! Emily, it is all so sweet, so
beautiful, that _everything_ is possible, and I know I shall be happy in
this dear old home, full of love and peace and honest hearts. I only
hope you may find as true and tender a man to live for as my Saul.”
Sophie’s face was more eloquent than her fervent words, and Emily
beautifully illustrated the inconsistency of her sex by suddenly
embracing her friend, with the incoherent exclamation, “I think I have,
dear! Your brave Saul is worth a dozen old Hammonds, and I do believe
you are right.”
It is unnecessary to tell how, as if drawn by the irresistible magic of
sympathy, Ruth and her mother crept in one by one to join the midnight
conference and add their smiles and tears, tender hopes and proud
delight to the joys of that memorable hour. Nor how Saul, unable to
sleep, mounted guard below, and meeting Randal prowling down to soothe
his nerves with a surreptitious cigar found it impossible to help
confiding to his attentive ear the happiness that would break bounds and
overflow in unusual eloquence.
Peace fell upon the old house at last, and all slept as if some magic
herb had touched their eyelids, bringing blissful dreams and a glad
awakening.
“Can’t we persuade you to come with us, Miss Sophie?” asked Randal next
day, as they made their adieux.
“I’m under orders now, and dare not disobey my superior officer,”
answered Sophie, handing her Major his driving gloves, with a look which
plainly showed that she had joined the great army of devoted women who
enlist for life and ask no pay but love.
“I shall depend on being invited to your wedding, then, and yours, too,
Miss Ruth,” added Randal, shaking hands with “the little baggage,” as if
he had quite forgiven her mockery and forgotten his own brief lapse into
sentiment.
Before she could reply Aunt Plumy said, in a tone of calm conviction,
that made them all laugh, and some of them look conscious,—
“Spring is a good time for weddin’s, and I shouldn’t wonder if there was
quite a number.”
“Nor I;” and Saul and Sophie smiled at one another as they saw how
carefully Randal arranged Emily’s wraps.
Then with kisses, thanks and all the good wishes that happy hearts could
imagine, the guests drove away, to remember long and gratefully that
pleasant country Christmas.
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