Marguerite Verne; Or, Scenes from Canadian Life Part 57

"I certainly shall, Evelyn, and more than that I shall never forget that to you I owe all the happiness of my life."

"You may well say so Hubert. But for my scheming Madge would have yielded to mamma's entreaties and became the wife of her pet--Sir Arthur."

"Well, it's all over, now," said the young man impatiently. "You never will have cause to regret the steps you have taken, and I trust we will be a happy family one of these days."

Alas! it is an easy task for us to propose, but the Great Disposer of our destinies finds it necessary to circ.u.mvent our plans and show us how utterly helpless we are. But we will not forestall events. We will calmly await the end, in a direct order comforted by the cheering thought that patience is a virtue and worthy its reward.

"Hubert, have you ever thought of Phil Lawson lately. I must tell you some news."

Mrs. Arnold then, with greater gusto, referred to the fortune, and in sarcastic tones amused her friend with the great change it would make in the heir's position, and the brilliant match he would also secure from the same source.

"So much the better," said Hubert, "he'll not be poking his nose where he's not wanted."

Hubert Tracy tried to appear as indifferent as possible, but in his own mind he was ill at ease. Any allusion to Phillip Lawson opened afresh a very tender spot in his memory.

"Would to G.o.d the fellow were dead," thought he, "though he never did me any harm. Perhaps, after all, he never would have had courage to propose to Madge--but then its best to be safe."

It would seem as if Mrs. Arnold had divined her friend's thoughts.

"Hubert," said she, rather excitedly, "I firmly believe, and will always believe, that if we had not taken matters in time that Phil Lawson, with his long-winded speeches, would have wrought a spell upon papa and so completely influenced him that he would have had Madge body and soul, for I am certain that she was fool enough to encourage him."

"I believe so, too," said Hubert, dryly, and not at all pleased with the woman's reference to a rival.

"It was only his poverty that kept him back. I tell you some upstarts of lawyers have impudence enough to face anything; indeed, when they stick out their s.h.i.+ngle they think they are fitting match for a princess."

Mrs. Arnold was sarcastic in the highest degree, and her expression was scornful as well.

"And I suppose the forty thousand will a.s.sist materially in giving a little more cheek," said Hubert, laughing.

"You may bless your stars that it did not arrive a twelve-month ago," said Mrs. Arnold, in a teazing manner that was not at all acceptable to her companion.

"Ah, well, Eve, let us think none the less of him. Perhaps he carries a heavier heart than we would wish," and, glancing hurriedly around, Hubert Tracy bowed to his companion and pa.s.sed out as if bent upon some particular errand.

Little did the thoughtless young man realize that this was his last conversation with Mrs. Arnold, nor did the latter, as she called to mind the fact that Hubert Tracy had, for the first time, addressed her familiarly as "Eve,"--the name she bore in her father's home-- that it would also be the last. Oh, well, this is one of the many lessons sent to teach us what we are, and what we should be:--,

"Let manhood think that death may come When least it seemeth nigh; And, though content with this bright home, Yet be prepared to die."

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

CONFESSION AND RESOLUTION.

November's chilly blast moaned hoa.r.s.ely around the heavy solid walls of "Sunnybank," and the weird sound of the rustling leaves impressed one with thoughts alike weird and melancholy.

Marguerite Verne sat in the library poring over some accounts.

Several letters lay beside her ready for mailing and as she glanced occasionally at the outer door she is evidently awaiting some person.

The suspense is of short duration. A bright cheerful face is soon at her side.

"You dear old coz, have I kept you long waiting?"

"Only two minutes," said Marguerite glancing at her watch, then hanging the pretty bauble within reach added, "Cousin Jennie I believe you are equal to a time piece."

An affectionate embrace was the outcome of the compliment and very soon the apartment looked brighter and more welcome.

The fire in the grate sent up a more cheerful glow as if it were trying to shew its appreciation of the newly arrived guest. In fact all things animate and inanimate tried to do homage to the sweet and cheery Jennie Montgomery.

The willing domestic who had answered Marguerite's summons, had no sooner finished her task than a message was conveyed from Mrs.

Verne's chamber requesting Marguerite's immediate presence.

Jennie followed and her presence of mind soon quieted her aunt's violent fit of hysteria, and bathing the aching brows with Florida water coaxed the restless woman into a soft and gentle sleep.

"What would I do without you, darling!" said Marguerite, her eyes filling with tears and then hastily shading her delicate face sought the nurse to make inquiries about her father.

On being advised that it was better not to disturb his restless slumbers she instantly returned to the library.

"It is cosey in here to-day, Madge. Just see how angry the sky appears. How fast the clouds are moving! Look! they seem furious!"

Marguerite having finished her accounts, now looked about for something farther to do.

Her eyes were attracted towards a handsome volume that lay upon the sofa. Its rich cream and gold binding giving a pretty contrast to the elegant upholstering of the said article.

The first words that claimed the girls attention ran:

"Wake maid of Love! the moments fly Which yet, that maiden-name allow; Wake, maiden, wake! the hour is nigh When Love shall claim a plighted vow."

Hitherto Scott had been one of Marguerite's favorite authors, but now she threw down the book as if stung by an adder. Her blood was chilled in her veins, and she seemed as if petrified.

It were well that Jennie Montgomery was busily engaged looking over the broad rows of bookshelves in quest of some thing suitable to her fancy.

It was also well that she found the desired volume and had comfortably seated herself for a good long read.

Cousin Jennie might well be termed a book-worm, for, notwithstanding the fact that she was a clever housekeeper, an industrious handmaid and a skilful needlewoman, no girl had, considering her advantages, been a more extensive reader. She was conversant with many of the standard authors, could discuss freely upon the most abstruse subjects and also kept herself well posted in all the leading events of the day, a fact which goes to prove that there is no woman no matter in what circ.u.mstances, but can, if inclined, give some attention to the improvement of the mind, and make herself a fairly intellectual being.

Marguerite's thoughts were painful, indeed. "The hour is nigh," she murmured. Hubert Tracy's letter had arrived, and the well-known lines had doubly recalled the fact.

"Would to heaven that it might never arrive," then suddenly checking the wicked wish the girl exclaimed, "it is so hard to bear. Oh, Heavenly Father, forgive my wicked, sinful heart."

"Madge, whom do you think I met as I was going along Princess street?"

Jennie had now turned towards her cousin. Her honest face was fair to look upon. Its genuineness was stamped in bold characters upon the open brow and reflected in the clear expressive eyes.

"Why, none other than Helen Rushton. She has just arrived from Fredericton where she has been for six weeks. She introduced me to her friend Miss Boynton who is such a nice-looking girl, not a beauty but interesting and very graceful."

"She called a few days after I came home," said Marguerite, "but I was unable to leave papa. Helen is a good girl, Jennie."