A Romance of Toronto Part 20

Our beautiful suburbs, with the Queen's Park, looking like huge bouquets in the hands of Dame Nature; you know my pa.s.sion for scenery, Ella. One day--a bright and glorious day, it had been--the blue sky, almost out of sight, it was so uplifted; a day sufficient to raise one's spirits as by some powerful stimulant, I was returning from town to my modest quarters (not here you know, dear), about four p.m., through the park; when, Mr.

Cobbe overtaking me, suggested our going up into the tower of the Toronto University to enjoy the view. I consented, knowing that the slanting beams of the sinking sun would kiss good-night to the tree-tops, lighting them with additional loveliness. We entered the grandly beautiful building, the janitor, unlocking the door to the tower, reminding us of the rule, "keys turned at five." Up, and ever upwards, the spiral stairway, making one dizzy in the ascent; at length, the top is reached; and, oh! the view, Ella, was more than beautiful. My eyes only rested with a pa.s.sing glance at the handsome villas skirting the park, ever returning to dwell on the superb ma.s.s of color in the trees; the sun seeming to linger lovingly while photographing their shadows upon the gra.s.s.

"I sat silent, or nearly so, for some time, when somehow the very air seemed full of such quiet, solemn grandeur, that thought becoming active, travelled in and about by-gone scenes and faces, bringing tears to my eyes, as a strange fit of loneliness came upon me.

"I was just in the mood to say yes, to a proposal to link my life with another, when Philip Cobbe pleaded his suit, saying, 'In a home together we would be companions each for the other; that we would be happier in a little home together than in the cold formality of a boarding-house; that in our short acquaintance, we knew each other as well as people who had a life-long knowledge of each other; that we were each too warm-hearted to be content alone; that the long, dark autumn was coming on, in which we would be all in all to each other; that his love for me filled his heart.'

"Then, Ella, he was really eloquent in his description of a little home together--a picture particularly inviting to me in my loneliness and in my despondent mood.

"I had been, as you know, under fortune's wheel, season after season, in the ice-bound winter, in the scorching sun of summer; sometimes in doubt in which I suffered most. With a purse as 'trash,' society turned a cold shoulder to me. Summer friends did not see me; my real friends at a distance--yourselves among the foremost--could not prevail upon me to visit them, as I knew the only sin society refuses to pardon is an out-at-elbows gown; and I was too proud to accept gifts I could not repay.

"Yet, still I hesitated in accepting Philip's offer, which seemed tempting in its home view; but would it be wise for me to marry him, simply because my life was a lonely one? I was in the act of telling him, 'I would sleep on it, and give him his answer, to-morrow,' when saying so, we were startled by the city clocks and bells striking, ringing and chiming six o'clock! Ella, Ella, my heart with fright seemed to stop beating; even yet a nervous tremor runs through me when I recall that moment; it was too true, on Philip consulting his watch, really, in the gloaming; for the sun was then sinking to rest at about five-thirty.

"'Great Heavens!' I cried; 'the tower door will be locked!' At this, can you credit it, Ella; the face of my companion grew exultant, as he cried:

"'Then we shall be here together until morning, and you will have to marry me!'

"At this, Ella, a shudder of repulsion ran through me; all my liking for him seemed at once to leave my heart, fear taking its place. 'What shall we do?' I cried; 'there are no pa.s.sers-by; G.o.d help me, for truly, "vain is the help of man." Think of something, do something, Mr. Cobbe--go to the foot of the stairs--hammer on the door--anything--get me out some way,' I said, almost in a frenzy. 'There is no one in the building,' he said. 'I would be no more heard than you hear your dog Tyr whining for your return. You will have to stay. We will be married, which some women would not grieve at. Come, come, cheer up; we will be married quietly in the morning; say yes, with a kiss.'

"'Go away,' I said; 'you must have matches, I have hit upon a plan. I am going to tie my bonnet to the end of your cane, and set fire to it. Some one will see it, and tell the janitor or steward, and we shall be liberated; here, quick, the matches!'

"'I have not one about me,' he said; and which I now feel sure was a falsehood. 'Oh try, try; search every pocket; if you will only free us I will promise anything, only get us out of here,' I said, half beside myself.

"'You will promise anything,' he said, excitedly; 'then, down on your knees, and swear by all you hold sacred, to become my wife.'

"'Oh, that is too awful an oath, ask me anything but that,' for I was sure now I could not love him.

"'No, no; swear, or you stay here all night.' 'Half my money, when I get it, instead, for pity's sake,' I said, distractedly.

"'Nonsense! I swear to liberate us from the tower and building, if you swear as I have dictated; if not, take the consequences.' Again, he pleaded his suit, winding up by asking me 'How I thought I would look facing a crowd in the morning, emerging from such a midnight resting-place, and in his company; of how the students would have food for jokes, for the remainder of the term; of how the newspapers would get hold of it,' etc.

"Driven to desperation, I knelt and swore by all I held sacred, to become his wife--unless he himself set me free--the latter clause he allowed, laughing at the idea; he then held me to his heart, telling me I would have a good husband in him, and never have cause to repent of my oath; tying my bonnet on, for I trembled so, my hands were useless; how I got down the steps on steps I don't know; he must have carried me; for what with the strain on my nerves from the whole scene, added to the spiral stairway, I felt dizzy and faint; but we reached the bottom, and my astonishment and indignation is easier imagined than described, on seeing him coolly turn the handle and open the door! The bells we had heard were fire-bells. The janitor, true to his trust, had locked the great door and gone to a lecture-room for a moment, intending after to mount for us.

"Philip seemed uplifted to a state of insane exultation at the success of his plan; for, on my upbraiding him on such base means to attain his ends, he laughed, as he said, 'All is fair in love or war,' as turning the key in the oak door of the main entrance we were out in the free air. Free! yes, but with my freedom gone. I looked at him with a sort of curiosity, as merely shutting the door, though I suggested burglars; he for answer, taking me in his arms, saying thickly, to the accompaniment of the key turning, 'Make the best of me, love, it was only by stratagem I could win you; I am lonely, so are you; I will make you happy, so help me G.o.d!' and so it is, Ella, you find me engaged to wed Philip Cobbe.

"But, as you must see, there must be other reasons than my disinclination to have prevented our union, for, you see, he still haunts me, though not loving me so faithfully, perhaps," she said, gravely.

"Of course I see it, you poor dear," she said, coming nearer, and kissing her friend, "and you must _never_ marry that man. What a romance of the tower it was; I have been fascinated listening to your recital. I now see what he meant by his--as he thought--strange manner, on Henry naming that we were going to the University with you. But, _mark my words_, there will be a tragedy if you wed this man; I know something."

A tremor ran through Mrs. Gower; she clasped her hands nervously, her lips quivered, and her dark eyes dilated, as she said, leaning towards her friend,

"You mean about a woman!"

Here Garfield awoke at the entrance of his father, whose ring his mother and Mrs. Gower had not heard. Miss Crew, entering, hat and mantle on, and carrying the outdoor wraps of Mrs. Dale.

"Why, you both look startled!" said Mr. Dale; "have you been enjoying a spiritual seance?"

"No, Henry, but you had better avoid me, for I have been tasting of the tree of knowledge."

"We have had dogma, also, Mr. Dale; and your wife does not believe that the end justifies the means," said Mrs. Gower, as Thomas brought in a tray with delicious coffee and sandwiches.

"I hope such doctrine won't be forced down our throats some day, Mrs.

Gower. Roman Catholicism seems to be coming upon you, wave by wave, and you in Ontario don't even seem to dream of a breakwater."

And so he talked on of city news, of the immense circulation of the newspapers, of the power of the press, etc., seeing there had been grave talk, and giving each time to bury gravity in heart's casket.

"Good night, little man; and so you get your feet on life's first rung, at Upper Canada College, on Monday morning."

"Yes, Mrs. Gower, and I mean to show them what a New York boy can do."

"That's right; defy circ.u.mstance and fate, and mount."

"Good night, and good-bye, dear Mrs. Gower, for I leave, as you are aware, for a run north-east, to look at some mines with our friend Buckingham."

"Yes, so I hear; what birds of pa.s.sage you men are; but you don't leave until Monday, when your good little wife and Miss Crew come to me during your absence."

"I really don't know what Ella would do without Holmnest and--you."

"Take care of yourself, Elaine," said Mrs. Dale, with a meaning pressure of the hand.

"What for?" she said, rather sadly.

"Oh, for somebody!"

CHAPTER XVII.

BIRDS OF PREY.

In the neat little parlor, with flowering plants in the window, its walls adorned with old-time Scripture prints and modern play-bills in droll blending, back of the shop-room for stationery, at Bayswater, on an evening late in October, sits Silas Jones, listless, and, with idle hands, apparently staring into vacancy, in reality wandering in busy thought into dim prison-houses and private asylums at London, in search of Sarah Kane, who, on his calling to see at Mrs. Mansfield's some weeks ago, as arranged, was informed by a housekeeper in charge that her mistress had gone south for the winter, and had told Mr. Stone some months ago she would like Sarah Kane to go with her as companion. When he sent her word she refused the offer, and that as to Mr. Stone bringing her, neither of them had been near the place.

On this, Silas Jones had racked his brain to discover her, advertising time and again; sure of foul play. One day he thought of seeing what the detectives could do, another of consulting a lawyer; he had, though knowing it would be useless, gone to Broadlawns, and interviewed Mr.

Stone, who had answered carelessly:

"I never even try to keep track of servants we discharge. Why of Sarah Kane, who was a viper on our hands?"

"As to that, Mr. Stone, I shall not allow you to blacken the best woman in G.o.d's world. She went with you to London; where is she now?"

"I tell you again I don't know, even whether she be alive or dead, and if you come about Broadlawns again, I shall have you up for trespa.s.s. An Englishman's house is his castle, sir."

"Oh, Silas Jones, Silas Jones, she has grown tired of you," said Mrs.

Cole, vengefully. "We found her in Mr. Cole's bedroom at midnight. What can an old man like you expect?"

"I don't mind your wicked words, they can't hurt Sarah; it's your deeds; and I implore you, if you have any of the woman nature in you, tell me where I can find her."

"And I answer, as Mr. Stone did, I never bother myself as to the whereabouts of discharged servants, so consider yourself dismissed," she said, calling Simon.