Marguerite Verne; Or, Scenes from Canadian Life Part 21

Mrs. Verne dwelt with pride upon the adulation which her firstborn was receiving in them other country. Mrs. Arnold's beauty had been commented upon in the journals; her face was sought after in all the fas.h.i.+onable resorts, and her queenly torso was the subject of every artist.

"They are going to remain for some weeks in Paris, and I am really afraid that Evelyn will be intoxicated with gaiety. She is such a lover of society, the dear girl, and Montague is just as fond of gaiety as Eve. What a happy couple they must be--they write such sweetly interesting letters. Really, Mr. Lawson, it would do one good to read them."

The subjects of those remarks were in the meantime enjoying life at a hotel in Picadilly. They had seen the sights of the great French metropolis, but were they really enjoying life as it should be. Was there real true happiness existing between these two hearts--"this happy couple?"

This is a question to be answered in due time, and which will be "sweetly interesting" to know.

When Mr. Lawson rose to take leave he was uncomfortably conscious of the patronage bestowed upon him. Mrs. Verne was radiant in smiles and gave her hand to the departing guest with the grace of a dowager.

"You must not stay away so long again, Mr. Lawson. Remember if you do, I shall be very angry, and, perhaps, not so easily conciliated."

It did, indeed, seem a coincidence that at the very moment that Louise Rutherford had asked Marguerite if she did not wish to be one of the tourists that a thought flashed through Mrs. Vernes' head with the rapidity of lightning, and in less time than is conceivable was formed into high and daring resolve.

And more surprising still is the fact that some hours previous the same bent of thought was being cherished by the wily Mrs. Montague Arnold.

The latter was determined that through her influence upon her worldly mother that Marguerite should wed Hubert Tracy, heir to Sir Peter Tracy's grand estates.

"Mamma will accomplish her end if any person on earth can do it, and Marguerite is too good, too conscientious, to disobey."

Was this peerless beauty so fond of Hubert Tracy? Did she entertain, such high opinion of this fas.h.i.+onable young man? No! He had riches-- that was all in all. That was one reason; and another, it would be the means of outwitting Philip Lawson, whom she hated with a bitter hate.

When Evelyn Verne gave her hand to Montague Arnold she never gave her heart.

Her marriage was in the eyes of the world a good match, and that was all that was necessary. Mr. Arnold was a man of the world, addicted to many habits that were not what the better side of life would approve of; but his wife had her failings, likewise, and she availed herself of the license thus given her--the liberties of fas.h.i.+onable folly. Mrs. Arnold being a beauty, was courted by the gay and fas.h.i.+onable world. She flirted without restraint, and took delight in making conquests among the degenerated n.o.bility, and lost no opportunity of displaying her charms. Excitement was as necessary to Mrs. Arnold's nature as the air is necessary for the support of animal life. She was buoyed up by excitement and kept alive by excitement. Life was one giddy round of delights--the dejeuner fete, opera, and ball-room.

It matters not to know whether this woman of fas.h.i.+on ever gave one thought to the real object of life--whether she even dreamed that G.o.d gave man an intellect, with mind-power capable of being brought nearer that state from which he fell ere he lost the impress of the Divine; but it matters us to know that she strove to bring every one whom she met on a level with her own superficial mind.

"Madge must marry Hubert Tracy; once with us she is perfectly safe.

Papa will be beyond reach, and his counsel or suggestions will not come in time."

Such was the comment of Mrs. Arnold as she stood opposite the elegant plate mirror which reflected a life-size portrait of herself.

"I am beautiful, and it is but in justice to myself that 'I improve the s.h.i.+ning hour.' Oh, Montague Arnold, you were a lucky man to wed such a prize," murmured the woman, clasping her hands over her head in an att.i.tude often seen upon the stage when the actress is exhibiting much feeling: then looking into the depths of the brilliant dark eyes, exclaimed, "What jewels can compare with thee, my priceless...o...b..?"

The elegant evening costume was a marvel in itself--creamy lace, s.h.i.+ning satin, and flowing draperies, while bright jewels gleamed from the dusky hair and burned upon the heaving bosom.

"Evelyn, my queen, you are ready for the conquest!" cried the beauty, taking one long gaze, and then picking up the jewelled fan that fell at her feet went forth at the summons of the waiting-maid to receive a visitor in the drawing-room.

"The Hon. Cecil Featherstone! The man is my slave! Why is he here at such an early hour?--it is too bad! What shall I do with poor Huntington, my latest flame? Oh, dear! I wish the men were not so incorrigible! Featherstone--it ought to be Featherhead, for I believe his head is sadly light of brains. Featherhead--Hon. Cecil Featherhead!--ha! ha! ha!"

Had not the grand drawing-room been at the other end of the s.p.a.cious hall the latter part of Mrs. Arnold's speech would have been heard by the subject of these remarks. Be it said, to that gentleman's ease of mind, that he was in the meantime admiring some choice paintings and counting the minutes hours until the fair hostess should arrive.

"This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Featherstone! I was really wondering what I should do with myself until the opera--and how kind of you, Mr. Featherstone, to think of me! I believe that I am one of the most favored of mortals!"

Having made this speech, Mrs. Arnold cast upon Mr. Featherstone one of her duly-organized smiles--a smile that was magnetic, and that set the heart of the luckless visitor into a flutter beyond recall.

"My dear Mrs. Arnold, you certainly do me the highest honor that can be bestowed upon a human being"--Mr. Featherstone felt considerable difficulty in getting off this speech, but another glance at the fair creature and he continued--"for you are certainly born to be wors.h.i.+pped at a distance--a something too lovely to be approached by anything this side of paradise!"

"Oh, Mr. Featherstone, spare me this flattery--I cannot really receive such, and from you-one endowed with such intellectual power, such ability and such genius! The thought is really dreadful!"

Mrs. Arnold's a.s.sumed earnestness of manner was indeed flattery of the seventh degree to the superficial Mr. Featherstone. He was transported to empyrean air. Mrs. Arnold had insight and her opinion was something to cherish. Poor Mr. Featherstone!

The conversation that followed was extravagant to the highest degree, and he went away that evening in a state of great disquietude, wondering why it was that it had not been his good fortune to meet his ideal of female loveliness ere she was wedded to another.

"That miserable bore! I am late in writing mamma's letter. I really wonder what she would say if she saw me flirting with the Hon. Cecil Featherstone! but I must be cautious, for I want the simple-minded Madge to share my blissful fate."

A servant in livery entered in answer to the summons of the bell-rope.

"Has James gone for the evening mail, Watkins?" demanded Mrs. Arnold in an imperious tone.

"He has not gone yet, my lady."

"Go and see how long before he does."

"Yes, my lady," said the servant, bowing very low, and with an air that seemed to say he was in the presence of royalty. The said Watkins had seen service in distinguished families, and the habit, though a ridiculous one, had become second nature, he invariably addressing every woman of fas.h.i.+on as "my lady."

Mrs. Arnold was pleased to learn that she could put her plan into execution without a moment's delay, and being a rapid writer she wrote and sealed a formidable-looking doc.u.ment, which she styled "mamma's letter," and within a few minutes saw it safe in the mail-bag awaiting the arrival of James, the trustworthy footman.

What the letter contained and its effects upon the different members of her family will follow in another chapter.

CHAPTER XVII.

MR. SPRIGGINS MAKES A DISCOVERY.

It is indeed, a warm July day--a fine hay day--and the people of Mill Crossing are taking advantage of the occasion. They are turned out _en ma.s.se_. Mowing machines are called into active service, and the new inventions--reapers, binders, etc.--are also at hand.

The farmers of this favored locality are pretty well to do, and conspicuous among the number is our friend Mr. Spriggins.

The Spriggins farm was well cultivated. A good frame house and commodious barns speak of the industry of the Sprigginses.

There was also a heavy stock upon the farm, and that fact alone is sufficient proof of its thrift.

On the day in question we see the healthy, beaming face of Mr. Mose Spriggins in the doorway. He had been very busy in the earlier part of the morning, but now had a few moments to talk to the young man who had been hired to help in haying time.

The homestead, like many others that we see in country districts, had a snug room on each side of the narrow entrance--the one on the northeast side being fitted up for the best room, and used only on state occasions, such as weddings, quarterly meetings, etc. Into this apartment Moses peeped with an air of great caution, as much as to say "I must be keerful the old lady don't spy me in here with my big boots on."

But important business was on hand. The mantel piece must be reached! The old clock that didn't go stood there, and within, its sheltering recess was a valuable doc.u.ment.

"Well, I never; if this eer room isn't as dark as Egypt," exclaimed Moses, going to the end window and hitching up the blind in that remarkable style peculiar only to the sterner s.e.x.

The light sun streamed in and brought out each article of furniture in bold relief.

There was a brand new set of cane-seat chairs that the old lady had bought at Stewart & White's the last time she had been to town. A woollen carpet from A. O. Skinner's had lately taken the place of the home-made one which now graced the spare bedroom up stairs. A motto, "G.o.d Bless our Home," hung over the mantel, and a few chromos relieved the walls. A large, beautifully bound Bible lay on the table, and beside it a photograph alb.u.m, which had been subscribed for a few days previous by the persistent, efforts of an indefatigable canva.s.ser. A white tidy covered the back of the rocking-chair, and another the back of the lounge. An old-fas.h.i.+oned pitcher filled with sweet-brier and some of the old-time flowers, such as bachelors' b.u.t.tons, London pride, blue rocket and jump-up-johnnie stood on a kind of sideboard and showed a desire to make the room attractive and inviting.

In this apartment the young man stood for about five minutes' time, then exclaimed: