A Romance of Toronto Part 10

"Let him but try, there is the curb bit and halter."

"Oh, you need not tell me, Margaret, that you will have him well in hand. Yes, and before that paradise of fools, the honeymoon, is over,"

laughed her uncle sardonically.

"Yes, the grey mare will be the best horse this time; but what a blessing his father is laid low; it would have been all up, when he saw how cut up our precious Charles is. I did hope, had they come over together, they might have been shrewd as their Yankee neighbors, and gone in with us. Now, if his father should die, we have nothing to fear; if he lives, we must exercise our wits, that is all. And, now, as to your little fiction as to the telegram summoning you away at daybreak, where will you stay?"

"Oh, anywhere, in some quiet cheap boarding-house in East End, London; perhaps Tom Lang's."

"I suppose it's soft of me, uncle; but I may not have a quiet word with you again. You must mind, I mean what I say. You must pay aunt one hundred pounds per annum for her own requirements and beloved mission work, though what she gives would not buy salt to their porridge, unless to that of her pet parson himself."

"When you know this, Margaret, why make such an a.s.s of yourself as to give it her; for, in my opinion, she is h.o.a.rding."

"It is in the blood; but you are a monopolist," she said sententiously as, merely tapping on the door of the cottage, they entered _sans ceremonie_, meeting the Rev. Claude Parks in the hall, who, shaking hands with both, said: "I had some calls this evening, but expecting you in, postponed them. At what hour to-morrow am I to tie the knot?" he asked smilingly.

"Never put off till to-morrow what can be done to-day, Mr. Parks; you may take that for your text next Sunday," said Miss Villiers decidedly.

"Nothing like it, Parks," said her uncle in oily tones, rubbing his hands.

"I shall give you another," said the curate rejoicing in his coming fee.

"'If, when done, 'twere well, 'twere well 'twere done quickly.' Do you desire me to return with you?"

"Yes," said Miss Villiers, "and at once, if we are to act on our joint quotations, for it is only two hours until midnight; come, get your robes of office, and let us be off."

Thus it was that the ways and means did duty, the curate standing much in awe of Miss Villiers, as well as of Miss Stone; some saying the latter was his curate, others facetiously protesting that he was hers.

And so she considered him not as the amba.s.sador of Christ, but as a paid servant of her own, for so does too often the Anglican Church pay its clergy only sufficient for a dinner of herbs; knowing that man, be he priest or sinner, being a dining animal, has, at a weak moment, a craving for the "stalled ox," and if his appet.i.te be too strong for him, sells himself, like Esau, for a "mess of pottage."

But now to return to Miss Villiers and her uncle, with the Rev. Claude Parks, as they make their entree to Broadlawns and its oak drawing-rooms.

CHAPTER X.

A LUCIFER MATCH.

"Rev. Mr. Parks, Mr. Babbington-Cole, of whom you have heard us speak, from Canada," said Miss Villiers; and Bengough's modern curate of the conventional type flashed across the memory of poor Cole. He was a meek young man, though a true Christian, who spoke in a monotone, his hair parted, to a hair, in line with the bridge of his nose, and wearing his hands meekly folded.

After their going round and round the barometer, English and Canadian, Miss Stone said, primly:

"It matters little whether the poor carnal bodies suffer from the cold.

I fear, out there, souls are cold unto death, starving for spiritual life and heat. I have been telling Mr. Babbington-Cole, and I feel sure you will coincide with me, Mr. Parks, that with so many infidels and wild Indians in his land, they should have their lamps trimmed and burning."

"You are always orthodox, Miss Stone," chanted Mr. Parks, meekly. "You look ill, Mr. Babbington-Cole; was the sea too much for you?"

"Yes, and now my head is in a whirl. I feel as if I am in for brain fever. Would to G.o.d I had remained in Canada," he answered feverishly.

"Tut, tut; a night's rest will set you up," said Stone hastily. "You Canadians are pale in any case, looking as though you feed on gruel."

"Cablegram, sir," said Simon, tapping at the door.

"It's for you, Babbington-Cole," said Stone, handing it.

"From my father's medical man," said Cole nervously, as, on reading it, he returned it to the envelope, and was about pocketing it, when Miss Villiers said, putting out her hand:

"I presume we may see it."

Cole, though with visible reluctance, handed it to her, when she read as follows:

"ST. LAWRENCE HALL, "MONTREAL, 25th Sept.

"To C. BABBINGTON-COLE, Esq.

"Typhoid fever left; but taken cold, sore throat; looking most anxiously for the return of yourself and Mrs. Cole. _Pray don't delay._

"JOHN PEAKE, M.D."

"Too bad, too bad; but you may yet find your father quite well," said Stone, with a.s.sumed feeling.

"'In the midst of life we are in death,'" said Miss Stone. "I trust your father has not been a careless liver, Mr. Charles; as a young man, I remember he was much given to the things of the world."

"My father is no smooth-tongued hypocrite, but has a truer sense of religion than many representative men and women in our church of to-day," said Cole, warmly; while thinking, but for his mistaken sense of honor, I would not now be in this abominable fix.

"You will, I am sure, be anxious to return at once, Mr.

Babbington-Cole," said Mr. Parks, in measured tones. "And as the first step towards it, as it grows late, if you will arrange yourselves, I will proceed at once with the service."

"To-night!" exclaimed the victim.

"I think it best, Babbington-Cole," said Stone, firmly, "for you are not the only one who has received a telegraphic message this evening; mine summons me away at daybreak for the Isle of Wight, on urgent business; and as you have crossed the pond to marry my niece, what do you gain by postponement?"

"By delay," said Miss Villiers, fixing her stony eyes on him, as she motioned him to stand beside her, "by delay we may miss seeing your father alive."

"True," said Cole, "and I must find him alive to explain all this," he added, with feverish haste. And while the service was said in monotone by the clergyman, so intent was he in performing hidden rites of vengeance upon his bride for the pantheon of hideous idols she was making him walk through life in, that he was deaf to the words:

"Wilt thou take this woman to be thy wedded wife?"

And the first caress he received from his bride was a pinch, sharp and telling; he said, excitedly:

"Take it all for granted, Mr. Parks, I am really too ill to take part."

At the words, "I p.r.o.nounce that they be man and wife together," etc., m.u.f.fled footsteps and the noise of panting breath is distinctly heard, and a pale woman, who had evidently come from a distance, with flying feet entered; the clergyman only seeing her, the others having their backs to the entrance; but she nears, staying her feet to listen as she hears the words which add another couple to the long line of loveless unions, her hurried breathing falls on the ears of those present. All turn round. Miss Villiers eyes her menacingly, while Miss Stone and her brother simultaneously point to the door, as she interrupting Mr. Parks'

congratulations, says in heart-rending tones of despair:

"Yes, I will go, for I am too late, too late, alas! for my poor young mistress and my oath to protect her." And she vanished noiselessly.

The fetters securely fastened, Mrs. Babbington-Cole said, wrathfully: