A Romance of Toronto Part 12

"Well, Will fidgetted, and they chattered across each other in audible remarks, on acquaintances in the audience, on a luncheon they were to give, as to the war-paint of a lady friend who had been presented to Queen Victoria, when I, the meanest of her subjects (I use the words figuratively, as Burdette says), pitied royalty; but the climax was reached when in Raff's 'Ever of Thee,' a particular favorite of Will's, the 'unruly member' was heard with renewed vigor, when this husband of mine rose in his might, and to his feet, saying audibly, 'Come, let us try if the low price seats hold better-bred people.'"

"Bravo! bravo!" cried Buckingham.

"Very well put," said Dale; "short a time as I have been in Toronto, I have observed that for culture and refinement one must look to the people who live on modest incomes, or salaries; middle cla.s.s is a phrase I find no use for. In this country there are the 'vulgar rich,' whose 'rank is but the guinea's stamp,' and well-bred poor; there are impoverished gentry, with an innate refinement showing in their too often struggling descendants; there are the moneyed people, lacking what filthy lucre cannot buy, namely, good breeding, and who never weary in parading their jewels, furniture and fine clothes."

"Very true," said Mrs. Gower; "I have frequently thought at some of our large social gatherings, that it is a pity one's blood cannot be a.n.a.lyzed instead of one's gown."

"What a resurrection there would be," said Buckingham; "not a few would long to pocket their own heads."

"A sympathetic artiste must feel any want of oneness in her audience,"

said Mrs. Dale; "I should throw my roll of music at them and retire."

"At which, dear, they would only give their unwearied cry of 'encore,'"

said her hostess; "it is very evident we are all at one in a very decided distaste for mongrels; but, Mr. Buckingham, during your run on the Kingston and Pembroke rail you missed hearing the Rev. Jackson Wray."

"Yes; did he please you?"

"Extremely; both in his sermonizing and in his lecture on George Whitefield; he is eloquent, and his imagery and figurative language charmed me."

"Indeed; in that case I regret to have missed him. Did you hear him, Dale?"

"Yes, and though I regret the not being at one with Mrs. Gower in all things," he said, smilingly, "must say he pleased me not."

"Pleased you not!" echoed his hostess; "then I abandon you to your tub; the scholarly, the literary world, would be a desert did your sweeping criticisms prevail."

"But how so, Dale? one would almost make sure of finding in him a rather superior excellence, knowing that he holds a pulpit in such a city as your London."

"Granted, Buckingham; but not only at London, but over the whole Christianized world, mistakes are to be found in the pulpit."

"Oh, no, Dale, I cannot go with you; 'tis in the pew that mistakes exist."

"I go with you there, Buckingham," he replied, wilfully misunderstanding him; "the pew system is selling out the Gospel by the square foot," at which his friend laughed.

"Mr. Dale," asked Mrs. Gower, "do you never allow the critic within you to go to sleep, allow your really generous nature full play, and give yourself up to enjoyment?"

"I do; for instance, now, here is a real enjoyment; but, pray, do not dub me a critic."

"I fear I must in some of your moods; but see, the mere word, or the silvery chimes of midnight, are lending wings to your wife, and Mrs.

Smyth: they are deserting us. Are you examining the heavens, dear?" she says, following Mrs. Dale to a window.

"Look quick, Mrs. Gower, he won't see you if you peer through the slats; and how awful! in among the bushes, out in that torrent of rain, there is a----"

"Don't alarm Mrs. Gower," said Buckingham, quietly, who had neared them unnoticed; "if there is anyone loitering about, let me open the shutters and window, and step out."

"Good night, Mrs. Gower," called Smyth, from the hall; "our carriage stops the way, and if I don't make a move, Lil never will," he says, meeting her.

"Mr. Dale is too fascinating," laughed his wife. "Good night, Elaine; Will thinks he hears baby crying, or he would not stir."

"Nice little baby, don't get in a fury 'cause mamma's gone to a play at the theatre," sang Smyth, jokingly.

"Did you _really_ see anyone, Mrs. Dale?" had asked Buckingham, in a grave whisper.

"I really did; the--but hush, she returns."

"You look pale, Mrs. Gower," he said, kindly, "put me up anywhere to mount guard over you for to-night."

"Oh, no, I thank you, not for worlds," she said, nervously; but recovering herself, added, "you know I have Thomas, and Mrs. Dale may only have seen a shadow, like a cloud which will pa.s.s."

"Clouds sometimes precede a storm."

"But not always," she says, with a sudden resolve, "for if Mrs. Dale will stay with me all night, she will be its silver lining."

"Indeed, I shall with pleasure," she said, eagerly, adding, in mock condescension, "Good night, Mr. Dale."

"What do you mean, Ella; our cab is here?"

"I am going to stay with Mrs. Gower, Henry, so good night, dear; an extra blanket and night-cap must be my subst.i.tute," she said, as he kissed her good night.

"Good night, Mr. Dale; you are keeping up your character for generosity," said Mrs. Gower.

"Come along, Dale," said Buckingham, glad of the arrangement; "I shall be with you as far as the Rossin House."

"Oh, Henry," called his wife, as he was entering the cab, "don't forget the schools are on for to-morrow; Mrs. Gower says to come up at one, to luncheon; don't forget Garfield and Miss Crew; and tell Miss Crew to send me first thing, by electric despatch, 82 Yonge Street, my plum walking dress, and bonnet to match, and----"

"No more, dear, please; you should have given it to me in ma.n.u.script form, I fear I shall not remember it."

"Poor Capt. Cuttle, when found make a note on," said Mrs. Gower, jokingly, but rather nervously, peering out, in and among the dark bushes.

"I'll coach him," laughed Buckingham.

"Etc., etc., etc.," called out Mrs. Dale, as the hack rolls away.

As the friends turn from the door, Mrs. Gower herself seeing to the fastenings and putting the chain on, Thomas said:

"Beg pardon, ma'am, but can you step this way, please?"

"But, Thomas," she said, trying in vain to battle with her fate.

"Yes ma'am, I know it's a shame to be a pestering of you at this hour, but it's----"

"Very well, Thomas, I shall attend to it; excuse me, dear Mrs. Dale, for a few moments, and then we must really go to bed."

"That's all right; I know what the calls upon a housekeeper are."

Quick as a flash, on the exit of her hostess, the portiere hangings are drawn, the gas at one end turned out, the window flown to.

"Yes, my lady crouches there still, and--yes, that is he on the kitchen steps; the light from the window points you out to me, my dear cupid--done up by a west-end tailor; the door opens, which shows me my kind hostess; and now for the woman--for ferret out this mystery I shall--for in some way, unknown to me, this gentleman and follower are worrying the life out of my friend."