Marguerite Verne; Or, Scenes from Canadian Life Part 32

Mrs. Montgomery said the last words with a will--aye, with the spirit of a Leonidas, and hastily arranging her toilet descended to the silent, deserted parlors. She evinced no surprise when confronted by Mr. Verne. She had been calmly awaiting his presence.

"It is too early for you to be astir, Hester. I would think you might take things easy when you could. I'm sure there's nothing to get you up here--no milking and farm work as at 'Gladswood.'"

"It's second nature with me and I can't help it any more than you can help getting up with the sun and poring over those tedious papers; Stephen, I would think you ought to get sick of such work."

"So I do, Hester, but I must not let myself feel so; there may be an end far too soon."

"Stephen you are getting a monomaniac on these things. I tell you what it is if William Montgomery were in your shoes he would not last a week. Thank G.o.d, he is a farmer--there's no life like it."

"True, indeed, Hester; I wish I had become a st.u.r.dy yeoman before I gave myself up to this business. Ah! it's nothing but uncertainty."

"Listen to me Stephen; the quiet of the hour prompts me to say something which I have been thinking of for some time past--it is of Mr. Lawson."

"Yes," said Mr. Verne, in a manner that seemed to say that he knew what was coming, "he is a worthy young man!"

"Worthy, did you say, Stephen? There is no words in the English language sufficient to speak his praise. He is a man such as the Creator premeditated before the world rose out of chaos--a man in the true image of his Maker!"

Could Phillip Lawson then have looked upon this woman as she sat there and spoke such holy thoughts--how simple and yet how eloquent--could he then have heard the tenderhearted matron plead for him what a flood of grat.i.tude would have welled out from his honest heart!

"I have invited Phillip Lawson to 'Gladswood' purposely to study him through and through, and each time I find something n.o.bler in him to admire."

"I believe it," said Mr. Verne, gravely.

"Then pledge yourself with me to bestow upon him all that can give him the only earthly happiness he desires. Stephen, you are not blind--you know he loves your child--make the way brighter for him-- give him your confidence, your encouragement, and before a twelvemonth has pa.s.sed away you will be happier, Madge will be happier, and Phillip Lawson will bless you while he lives!"

Mr. Verne turned uneasily in his chair. He felt somewhat guilty of not seeking the young man's confidence the previous evening when he made allusion to Marguerite.

"Stephen, I'm no fool; I can sometimes see more than some people would like me to see--but I care little for people's opinions," said Mrs. Montgomery in a defiant mood, "I am here to say what I think is right--I care for n.o.body."

"I know that the young man admires Madge, but we have proof of nothing further."

"You surely cannot say _that_, Stephen, and note the interest which Mr. Lawson takes in your affairs. Ah, we women can see you men through and through--you don't mean what you say."

It did not take much persuasion to gain Mr. Verne as an ally to the cause so dear to the woman's heart.

Now what suggestions Mrs. Montgomery made to her brother-in-law and his acquiescence, the whole-hearted management and cleverness, also delicacy of plans, we do not care to reveal, suffice to say, that the plans were matured and put into execution from that hour, and that there were those who lived to thank Mrs. Montgomery with all the fervor of their hearts.

Mr. Verne was indeed happier from the light-hearted manner in which Mrs. Montgomery strove to entertain him and relieve the monotony of his busy life. "Sunnybank" had been closed from society for several months. No guests desecrated the stillness of the deserted drawing-room, and save the occasional calls of a few business men, "all around was quietness."

"I will make a change," said Mrs. Montgomery, and a change was made.

Phillip Lawson found time to drop in two or three evenings of the week, and when the gentlemen were engaged over their game of chess, there would suddenly steal upon their senses a fragrance that portended hot delicious coffee, not to speak of the choice rolls and delicate cheesecake.

Mr. Lawson was truly at home in Mrs. Montgomery's society. He admired her independent spirit and correct judgment as to what should const.i.tute society in its wholesome state; he listened with eagerness to her exposition of the shame and rottenness of good form and the consequent evils arising from them.

One evening they were enjoying the refres.h.i.+ng breeze that stirred the leafy shrubberies at "Sunnybank." Coolness reigned everywhere, within and without. The halls were redolent with heliotrope, and breath of roses, the hour was inviting and the conversation was spirited.

Mrs. Montgomery, clad in her silken gown, was indeed fitted to pa.s.s close criticism. She was sensible looking, neat and respectable, and her genial warmth of manner formed no secondary consideration.

"It is disgraceful to society to tolerate it," said Mrs. Montgomery.

"I should like to see a girl of mine receive attention from such a man, and to think of his going to Mrs. M.'s company utterly incapable. Had I been there I would have insulted him before the company."

"It is just as well that you were not," said Mr. Verne, smiling.

"We country people are verdant, Stephen, but thank heaven we escape your _good-form_ style that is ruinous both to body and soul,"

said Mrs. Montgomery with considerable vehemence. "Our young women are educated to a sense of their position, and to demand that respect which they ought. Ugh! just for one moment imagine a young man of loose immoral habits seated in _our_ parlor. Why the very thought of it makes one sicken with disgust."

"Hester, if we had a few such women as you there would be a sweeping moral reform throughout our land," said Mr. Verne, vehemently. "Yes, we would have such a wholesome state of things as would entail a world of happiness to succeeding generations."

"I tell you one thing, Stephen, there would be no living beyond one's means; neither this abominable keeping up of appearances, which has possessed two-thirds of our people, and which is the cause of nearly all the misery and degradation that we hear of every day of our lives--and those mothers and daughters will be held responsible for the souls of the suicides who were goaded to the rash deed by their doings! Yes, Stephen, I say it, and hold to it, that it is our women who are at the root and bottom of these horrible misdeeds."

"It is true in a great measure, Hester," said Mr. Verne, his face betraying evident emotion--his voice strange and his manner altogether changed.

Mrs. Montgomery's words had a powerful effect. They took deeper root than she intended and the woman felt a strange misgiving at her heart. "What if he might seek refuge in such," thought she, and a feeling of revulsion pa.s.sed through her which was in nowise comforting.

Mr. Verne seemed to antic.i.p.ate her thoughts. "It is an unpleasant subject, and can do little good for either," said he, trying to force a smile.

"Yes, Stephen; I can bear your reproof, for I am too hot-headed. I need a strong pull in the opposite direction to set me right."

The sound of domestics astir suggested employment, and Mrs.

Montgomery set forth to superintend affairs with more concern than the real mistress. In fact, there had been a sad want of attention to matters in general. There was an apparent lack of system and good management that only such an one as Mrs. Montgomery could set right.

"I want you to do it this way," was her order, and it was done.

An untidy chambermaid had been dismissed, and the cook was given her choice to retrench in the enormous waste or find a new field for such extravagance.

It was indeed surprising what a change had been wrought during Mrs.

Montgomery's first week at "Sunnybank."

"And to think of her coming from such charitable motives. The woman is a host in herself." Such was Mr. Verne's comment as he began to see how affairs were managed on the reconstruction plan, when even the parlor seemed to admit the beneficial change.

"I shall have to attend a meeting of the Board of Trade this evening; and thinking it would be dull here, I asked Mr. Lawson to come in and bring Lottie. You know the poor child idolizes him, and it is a shame to keep him from her."

"How kind of you, Stephen. I shall be delighted to see Lottie; she is a sweet child. It really does me good to see the young man pet his little charge and minister to her wants with the delicacy of a woman. I tell you there are few men that will compare with Phillip Lawson."

Mrs. Montgomery was determined that she would let no opportunity escape when she could say a word in her friend's praise. "They will thank me one day for it," said she to herself, as she turned leisurely towards a pot of heliotrope and stood inhaling the sweet fragrance.

"The Board of Trade to-night. No rest for the overwrought brain!

What a pity that our women, Instead of decking themselves out for hours before a life-sized mirror, and when arrayed like peac.o.c.ks amble into drawing-rooms or conservatories to listen for so many hours to the idiotic, half-formed expressions of the semi-monkeys who answer to the fas.h.i.+onable appellation of dudes, should not give themselves some fit employment. Oh, dear me! thank Heaven I'm not a society woman, and still better, that none of my family can lay claim to the t.i.tle."

As Mrs. Montgomery made the last part of her remark, she thought of her first-born, the sweet, but bright-spirited Jennie, who was always ready for fun and amus.e.m.e.nt and never was happier than when administering to the wants of her fellow creatures.

Jennie Montgomery was also a maiden of sound intellectual ability.

Her fund of reading was extensive. She never allowed a day to pa.s.s without devoting two hours to good solid reading. Pope was a constant friend, as was also Wordsworth, and few could give a better exposition of the mental depth of this metaphysical poet, his self-knowledge and his keen realization of the depth of such knowledge.

But of the expected guests. It was indeed a red-letter day for Lottie Lawson when Phillip announced his intention of taking her to "Sunnybank."

"Oh! Phillip," cried she in ecstasies of delight, her saucy curls dancing around the pretty head, "and I shall see Mrs. Montgomery; was there ever such a lucky girl as I?" and the bright eyes danced with joy and eagerness. "Goodness gracious! it's almost too good news to be true. Phillip, what shall I wear? Dear me, if I had only known I would have made Kitty do up my white lawn."