MORE OF MARRIAGE.
The homestead where Dora’s childhood had been passed “could not be
bought for love nor money;” so Robert, the negotiator, had reported to
his brother on the morning following the latter’s marriage, and so
Richard reported to Dora, as he sat with her at Mattie Randall’s, up in
the chamber which Dora called hers, and where Anna had died. Mattie had
wished to give the bridal pair another room, but Dora would take no
other; and as Richard was satisfied, they occupied the one whose walls
had witnessed so much sorrow in the days gone by. But there was no grief
there now, nothing but perfect bliss, as Richard held his darling to his
heart and told her for the thousandth time how dear she was to him, and
how he thanked the Father of all good for giving her to him at last. In
all his joy he never forgot his God, or placed Him second to Dora, who
listened and smiled and returned his fond caresses until he told her of
his plan to buy the homestead, and how that plan had been defeated by
the refusal of the present proprietor. Then Dora hid her face in his
bosom and wept softly to the memory of her old home, which Richard had
tried so hard to buy back for her.
“You are so good, so kind,” she said, as he asked her why she cried, and
pitied what he thought was her disappointment. “It is not that,” she
continued, as she dried her tears. “It is your thoughtful love for me. I
should be very happy at the old place, but, Richard, I am not sure that
I should not be happier in Beechwood, where I have lived so long, and
where you have so many friends. There John’s children would be nearer
me, and I must care for them.”
And so it was arranged that Richard should buy the fine building spot to
the right of Squire Russell’s, and that until the house he would erect
should be completed, Dora should remain at home and care for the
children.
This plan, when submitted to the Squire, met his hearty approval, and
made the future look less dreary than before. He should not be left
alone entirely, for Dora would be near to counsel and advise, and his
face was very bright and cheerful as he welcomed the travellers back
from their long trip, which lasted until February.
Towards the latter part of April, Jessie accepted of Dora’s cordial
invitation to visit them again, and came to Beechwood, the same bright,
laughing, gleeful creature as ever, the sunshiny being in whom, the
moment he saw her seated again by his fireside, Squire Russell
recognized the want he had felt ever since she left him the winter
previous. He was so glad to have her back,—his eldest child he called
her,—and treated her much as if he had been her father, notwithstanding
that she made ludicrous attempts at dignity, on the strength of being
twenty her next birthday, which was in June. Jessie was very pretty this
spring, Squire Russell thought when he thought of her at all, and so
thought the Rector of St. Luke’s, Mr. Kelly, who came nearly every day,
ostensibly to talk with Mrs. Dr. West about some new plan for advancing
the interests of the Sunday-school, but really to catch a glimpse of
Jessie’s sparkling beauty, or hear some of her saucy sayings. But
always, when he left the house and went back to his bachelor rooms, he
said to himself, “It would never do. She is a frolicsome, pretty little
plaything, who would amuse and rest me vastly, but she would shock my
parishioners out of all the good I could ever instill into their minds.
No, it won’t do.”
Robert West, too, whose pulse had beaten a little faster at the sight of
Jessie Verner, had given himself to his country, so there was no one to
contest the prize with Squire Russell, into whose brain the idea that he
could win it never entered until Johnnie put it there. To Johnnie it
came suddenly, making him start quickly from the book he was reading,
and hurry off to Dr. West, asking if Deacon Bowles was not a great deal
older than Mrs. Bowles, whom the villagers still called Amy, making her
seem so youthful. The doctor thought he was, but could not tell just how
many years, and as this was the point about which Johnnie was anxious,
he conceived the bold plan of calling on Mrs. Amy to ascertain, if
possible, her exact age, and also that of her husband. He found her
rocking her baby to sleep and looking very pretty and girlish in her
short hair, which she had taken a fancy to have cut off. Amy was fond of
Johnnie, and she smiled pleasantly upon him, speaking in a whisper and
keeping up a constant “sh-sh-sh” as she moved the cradle back and forth.
“What a nice baby,” Johnnie began, as if he had never seen it before;
“but it seems funny to see you with a baby, when you look so like a
girl. You can’t be very old.”
“Turned thirty. Sh-sh—” was the reply.
A gratified blush mounting Amy’s cheek, while Johnnie continued:
“Mother was thirty-two, and father was thirty-nine. He is most forty-one
now. Is the deacon older than that?”
“Going on fifty-one. Sh-sh—” Amy replied, her “sh-sh’s” being more
decided as baby showed signs of waking.
Johnnie had learned what he wished to know, and bidding Mrs. Bowles good
morning, he ran home, repeating to himself:
“Turned thirty,—going on fifty-one. Ought from one is one, three from
five is two. That makes twenty-one. Most twenty,—most forty-one. Ought
from one is one, two from four is two. _That_ makes twenty-one. Jemima!
It’ll do, it’ll do!” and Johnnie ran on with all his might till he
reached home, where he found Jessie, whom he astonished with a hug which
almost strangled her.
“It will do! it will do!” he exclaimed, as he kissed her, and when she
asked what would do, he answered, “I know, I know, but I shan’t tell!”
and he darted off, big with the important thing which he knew and should
not tell.
That night, as Squire Russell sat in his library, Johnnie came in and
startled him with the question:
“Father, who will take care of us when Aunt Dora is gone? Her new house
will be done in September.”
“I don’t know, my son;” and the Squire laid down his paper, for the
question which Johnnie asked had also been troubling him.
There was silence a moment, during which Johnnie almost twisted a button
from his jacket, and then he broke out abruptly:
“Why don’t you get married?”
“Married! To whom?” the Squire exclaimed; and Johnnie replied:
“You know. The nicest girl in all creation after Aunt Dora. She isn’t
too young, neither. Amy Bowles is twenty-one years younger than the
deacon, and Jessie ain’t any more.”
“Jessie! Jessie Verner!” the squire gasped, and Johnnie continued:
“Yes, Jessie Verner; I most know she’ll have you. Any way, I’ll make
her. You break the ice, and I’ll pitch in! Will you, father? Will you
have Jessie?”
“It would be better to ask first if she’ll have me,” the father replied,
rubbing his head, which seemed a little numb with the sudden shock.
“I hear her. I’ll send her in! You ask her, father!” Johnnie exclaimed,
darting to the door, as he heard Jessie in the upper hall whistling
“three hundred thousand more.”
As he reached the threshold he paused, while he added:
“I guess Jessie will stand a huggin’ better than Aunt Dora, so you might
come that game on her!” and Johnnie rushed after Jessie ere his father
had time to recover his breath.
Jessie could not at once be found, and as Johnnie would not tell her
what his father wanted of her, she was in no particular hurry to answer
the summons, so that Squire Russell had time to collect his thoughts,
and to discover that little Jessie Verner was very dear to him, and that
though he had never entertained an idea of making her his wife till
Johnnie suggested it, the idea was by no means distasteful, and if she
were willing, why of course he was. But would she come? Yes, she was
coming, for he heard her in the hall calling back to Johnnie:
“Mind, now, if you have played me a trick you will be sorry. I don’t
believe he wants me.”
“Yes he does; you ask him,” was Johnnie’s reply, and advancing into the
library, Jessie began innocently:
“Johnnie said you wanted me. Do you, Squire Russell!”
“Yes, Jessie, I do want you very much. Sit down while I tell you.”
He drew her chair near to himself, and wholly unsuspicious, Jessie sat
down to listen, while he told her how he wanted her.