Marguerite Verne; Or, Scenes from Canadian Life Part 30

Marguerite had been amusing herself in reading over some extracts from her pocket diary when a pretty young page entered with an exquisite bouquet of rare exotics.

"How lovely," was the simple remark, as the girl took them in her hand and held them out to view, while the fragrance exhaled was almost overwhelming.

A tiny note, peeped out between a cl.u.s.ter of heliotrope and blush roses.

"It is provoking," thought the maiden, as she drew forth the perfumed billet-doux and read what might be considered a declaration of love.

Sir Arthur Forrester was not a dissipated man, nor was he a disagreeable man, yet he was not what a girl of Marguerite Verne's nature would desire for a husband.

"This is just what mamma has been angling for," thought Marguerite as she tore up the note into tiny shreds and showed more spirit than her sister Eve would have given her credit for.

"I thought as much dear Madge," said Mrs. Verne, who on entering beheld the bouquet, "and to think that Evelyn should accept Mr.

Tracy as escort when we could have Sir Arthur. It is, indeed, provoking beyond endurance. Madge you are to be congratulated upon such good luck; scores of girls would envy you the proud position as Lady Forrester, and for once I hope my child will consider well before she lets such an offer meet with refusal."

Marguerite sat as if in a state of utter abstraction. She was too much confused to reply. "Honor thy father and mother" had been an important part of her religion. Must she now say words of dire rebellion--the thought cost a bitter pang. The tears rose to her eyes and her lips were pallid and tremulous.

"Mamma I cannot think you would ask me to encourage Sir Arthur feeling as I do at present. I respect him but nothing more, please do not mention the subject again. I do not wish to leave you and I know papa wishes me to remain always with him and make his home what it ought to be."

The last remark was too much for Mrs. Verne's temper.

"Marguerite, lately I had begun to think that you had more sound sense than your fortunate sister but I am doomed to bitter disappointment. One need expect nothing but ingrat.i.tude from children--especially mine. Hear me, Madge: if you refuse Sir Arthur you will live to repent of it--remember my words!" and gathering up her trailing robes Mrs. Verne turned angrily away leaving Marguerite to her own sad thoughts.

CHAPTER XXII.

AN INSIGHT INTO MR. VERNE'S AFFAIRS.

Summer had pa.s.sed into autumn--all nature was arrayed in robes of gorgeous dye. The foliage of Sunnybank was brilliant and the leafy shrubberies had not yet begun to show signs of decay.

Mr. Verne sat in the library and beside him sat a welcome guest.

Mrs. Montgomery made several excuses for her untimely interruption and Mr. Verne received them with the best of grace--he well knew what had prompted the visit--the good kind and generous heart.

As the matronly appearance of the new comer awakened a spirit of interest in the affairs of Sunnybank so it aroused the quiet un.o.btrusive master. Mr. Verne thanked G.o.d from the bottom of his heart that he could sit in his office and hear the voice of a true friend in kindly counsel with the domestics.

"Ah! if Matilda were only like her, how different our lives might have been," murmured the wearied man of business, then heaving a deep sigh glanced over the latest exchange sheets, trying to find relief from the depressing thoughts that were crowding hastily through his overworked brain.

"Sooner or later it must come and G.o.d knows it is through no discrepancies on my part. Poor little Madge; she is a good child. If she were only settled I would feel more relief; but she is to be bartered for pelf, poor child. I will stand by her to the last."

Voices in the parlor now claimed Mr. Verne's attention.

"Strange too, at the very moment," murmured the latter as he closed the folios and then ran his fingers through his hair as if to prepare for some pleasing reception.

A cheery voice exclaimed "business kept me away sir, but I could stand it no longer," and shaking his host's hand with more than hearty grasp Phillip Lawson soon found himself at home in Sunnybank's elegant parlor.

The young lawyer could not fail to note the careworn look upon Mr.

Verne's pa.s.sive countenance, nor did he fail to note the cause, while a strange yearning feeling went straight to the warm heart.

"If it were only in my power to help him," murmured Phillip in inarticulate tones as he took up a newspaper that lay on the small table near. It was a late English paper and bore the address of Mr.

Verne in a neat graceful hand.

"We have just heard from Marguerite," said Mr. Verne, attempting to be very cheerful.

"I hope all are well, sir?" ventured Mr. Lawson timidly.

"Yes, they are in good health, but I fear that Marguerite is wearied of life in gay cities. Mr. Lawson, you cannot imagine how much I miss her. It seems as if part of my life is gone from me."

Mr. Verne's voice was husky and unsteady and his eyes had a far off wistful look that struck a vibrative chord in Phillip Lawson's breast.

"I might as well make a clean breast of it at once," thought the latter, "no good comes of carrying a pent up sorrow to one's grave without trying to seek sympathy from a fellow being--and to none would I go more willingly than her father."

A slight pause ensued and Mr. Lawson spoke.

"It is pleasant for Miss Verne to see the mother country and form comparisons for herself and no doubt she will be the better for having had a change of climate."

"Yes, that was why I did not oppose her going away. I knew that her const.i.tution was delicate, but again, that fact made it the harder for me to a.s.sociate Marguerite with late hours and all the inconveniences of fas.h.i.+onable life. I tell you what it is Mr. Lawson I am no advocate of fast living and I thank G.o.d that my daughter is only playing a part in which her heart has no interest."

"Miss Verne has a mind far above such things," said Mr. Lawson with some warmth.

Mrs. Montgomery had adroitly slipped out un.o.bserved and was busying herself over some mending which was needed.

She could hear the hum of the voices and could almost distinguish the words being said.

"If Stephen Verne is not a downright fool he will straighten matters up yet," thought the woman as she put away the work-basket and began to plan work for the following day.

Conversation still went on briskly and Mr. Verne seemed himself once more. His burden felt light in the presence of the young lawyer and from the depths of his soul he longed for a closer intimacy--that bond of true sympathy which cements hearts forever.

Phillip Lawson partly realized the fact: the barriers of conventionalism were fearlessly torn down as he took courage to speak out.

"Mr. Verne you do not surely think that a man of sense can be blind to the inestimable and rare qualities which he sees in Miss Verne's character. If we had more woman like her what a different world it would be!"

"G.o.d bless you, my boy," said Mr. Verne fervently.

"Amen," responded a voice from another apartment but unheard in the parlor.

What invisible, subtle power prevented the young man from falling on his knees and confessing his love for the pure Marguerite?

What invisible presence laid a pressure upon Phillip Lawson's lips and sealed them fast?

What invisible force turned the conversation into another and entirely different source, yet did not weaken the bond already established.

Mr. Verne communicated many proofs of his entire confidence and the thought gave to his young friend more courage.

"It is indeed a trying season sir, but I trust you will keep abreast of the times. Many of our establishments are said to be in a shaky condition."

"If they give me time I am all right, if not I am gone."