A Romance of Toronto Part 35

"If I don't see you, I may as well die," she says despondently. "I love you better than any of them ladies do," she says, feeling her way.

"Hang her, she is as fickle as her clime," he says, half aloud, thinking of Mrs. Gower.

His companion made no response, knowing who he meant, but her heart is lighter at his words.

"Hang it, Bet, it's a freezer; if you have any money about you, I'll hail this sleigh if it's empty."

"Yes, sweetheart, here it is," giving him one of the fives.

In a minute they are under the buffalo robe, when, according to promise, she coaxes, entreats, and implores him to give Mrs. Gower up, but he angrily refuses to listen to anything on the subject; entertaining her, instead, with recitals of all the girls on King street who, he is sure, are dying for an introduction to him, and of several women of his acquaintance being infatuated about him, his companion a.s.senting to all he said; getting out at his own quarters, paying the driver to 910 Seaton street, pocketing the change. Beatrice Hill alone, thinks out her plan for the following evening with tears, which she brushes away with bare hands, having given her mits to her fickle swain to keep his hands from the frost.

"Yes, I must tell them all," she thought, weeping silently, "else Phil will make her marry him. Father Nolan would tell me to do so, to save him from guilt. He will turn to his faithful Betty again when he sees how they sit on him, when they know all."

As the hall door had closed on Mr. Cobbe making his exit, Mr. Blair said, turning out the gas:

"Let us go to her."

Mrs. Gower meets them in the hall, looking pale and agitated, her eyes larger and darker in her pale face, her sensitive mouth quivering.

"I was just coming for you," she said, and on her eyes meeting Mr.

Blair's, in answer to his loving, steadfast gaze, hers told him that her appeal has been in vain.

"He would not free you?" he said, compa.s.sionately.

"No."

"Well, then, he must be compelled to," said Mrs. Dale, energetically; "we are not going to stand by with folded hands, and see the remainder of your life made wretched by a weak, vain, frivolous thing like that.

You have had trouble enough in the past, heaven knows."

"Yes, we must act; we must endeavor to interview the woman," he said sympathetically, preparing her for what might occur.

"I fear your kind efforts in my behalf will prove useless, Alec. You would only ascertain that she is some poor creature whose heart he has gained, but who is not bound to him in any way. She is faithful, where he is false," she says, gravely, "and is breaking her heart for him--a way we have--that is all. No, 'Blessed are they who expect nothing,' I must keep well in my mind for the future. I scarcely deserve this from Fate, for I have been pretty brave hitherto through troubles, that at the time were sufficient to crush all hope, leaving not the faintest gleam; but I struggled through the clouds in my sky, which, finally parting, I saw the sunbeams once more. My plan now is, to close up this my home, sweet home, or ask you, Ella, or Mr. Cole, to take it off my hands for a year. It would please me best to know some one I care for was among my little treasured belongings."

"Mr. Cole, Charlie's father is at the Tremont Hotel, Jacksonville, Florida. My plan is to ask Miss Crew (as you don't require her services, and her mind is easier as to money matters), to accompany me for the remainder of the winter to the same place as my friend Charlie's father; he is a most worthy man and a gentleman. At the close of winter we would cross to the British Isles. To myself, a Canadian, it would be a complete distraction, as I have never been across; and I pray fervently, will take me out of self," she said sadly. "We would visit London and some pretty rural spots, the Devons.h.i.+re lanes, perhaps; and then the Emerald Isle, thence to bonnie Scotia's sh.o.r.es; taking, perhaps, more than a peep at fair Dunkeld," she says, trying to smile in the grave face of Mr. Blair. "I have foreseen the result of my appeal to Philip, and so have been laying my plans for some days."

As she spoke, trying vainly to hide her emotion, more than one tear had been stealthily brushed away by her sympathetic little friend, who, seeing that Mr. Blair is suffering intensely, from suppressed feeling, says bravely, though rather doubtful at heart:

"Mark my words, Elaine, that woman will free you; say good night to us, Mr. Blair, I am medical attendant _pro tem._, and Elaine must take a sedative, and room with me to-night."

"You are right, Mrs. Dale; be brave, Elaine," he says, holding her hand in his firm grasp, "to-morrow your clouds must again pa.s.s. I shall come in after luncheon."

CHAPTER XXV.

"HERE AWA', THERE AWA'."

The following is an ideal Canadian winter day; the sky, a far-off canopy of brightest blue, with no clouds to obscure the sunbeams, which pour down on fair Toronto, melting the icicles when his smiles are warmest, and gladdening the hearts of the million. There is just enough of frost in the air to make a walk to town pleasant, cheering and exhilarating, so that Mrs. Dale is glad when Mrs. Gower proposes their going. The whole city seems to have turned out, and the streets are alive with the busy hum of life, and the tinkling music of the merry sleigh-bells.

Mrs. Gower, who had slept little, arose with the determination to appear reconciled to her fate, not wis.h.i.+ng to add to the sorrow of Mr. Blair and Mrs. Dale, on her account; feeling that there will be time enough to give way, when "large lengths of miles" divide them. She cannot bear to dwell upon the separation, she has decided, is for the best, and dreads to think of her heart loneliness, with Mr. Blair gone out of her life, and the sympathy of Mrs. Dale, not beside her. How she will miss her quiet talks with him, his manly advice and interest in all her acts, the oneness of their views on many questions of the day--religious, social, and in part political. The Tremaines and Smyths also; with her many favorite walks and resorts, the public library, and other places of interest. Yes, to leave them all and her snug Holmnest, is hard; but to go on in the way events have shaped themselves--Mr. Cobbe, a privileged visitor, as her future husband; the woman haunting her home; her misery, seeing daily the grief telling on Mr. Blair would be harder still; so, nerving herself for the parting, she determines on making her preparations at once.

No one meeting the friends, as they walk into town, would imagine that the dusky shadow of sorrow sits in each heart; the pretty little face of Mrs. Dale being set off by a bonnet, with pink feathers, her seal coat and m.u.f.f making her warm and comfortable. Mrs. Gower, in a heavy dark blue gown, short dolman boa and m.u.f.f of the bear; a pretty little bonnet blending with her gown, the glow of heat from exercise lending color to her cheeks. Down busy Yonge street to Eaton's; Trowern's, with Mrs.

Dale's watch; thence to gay King Street, to Murray's, Nordheimer's, the Public Library, back again West, and to Coleman's for a cup of coffee, are all done; at the latter place they run across Mrs. St. Clair with Miss Hall.

"Oh, you two dear pets, I am so awfully glad to have met you," says pretty Mrs. St. Clair, effusively; "I want to know when you can talk over a programme with me--tableaux, readings, etc., in aid of the debt on our church. Say when?"

"I really cannot, Mrs. St. Clair," said Mrs. Gower; "just at present I am very busy, and am daily expecting a small house party."

"Dear, dear! that is too bad; what shall I do; you are so smart, and would know just what would take. You will talk it over with me, Mrs.

Dale," she said, beseechingly.

"No, thank you; on principle, I object."

"How funny! might I ask why?"

"Certainly. I think offerings to such an object as a church debt should be voluntary."

"But, Mrs. Dale, people expect a little treat for their money."

"They have, or we have, the church service, and the ministrations of the clergyman."

"That's just the way Mr. St. Clair damps my ardor," she says, poutingly; "I do so want to pose as Mary Stuart. Mr. Cobbe says I'd look too sweet for anything; you won't be jealous, Mrs. Gower."

"Oh, fearfully so; but joking apart; how do you think he would pose as Bunthorn?"

"I see you are laughing at him, Mrs. Gower?"

"Not at all; the twenty forlorn ones would keep him in good humor, and the bee in his crown would be a safety valve for his restlessness."

"No, no; I would not like that, and I wonder you, above all, would propose it; for the whole twenty would fall in love with him, he is so fascinating; don't you think so, Miss Hall?"

"Yes; but it would be good fun; you cawn't do bettah, Mrs. St. Clair."

"It has my vote, too," said Mrs. Dale, as she and her friend wish them good morning.

"What a well-matched couple Mrs. St. Clair and Philip would have made,"

says Mrs. Gower, as they go east to Yonge street.

"Yes, I have thought that before to-day, Elaine; it's a pity to spoil two houses with them."

Here they come across Mrs. Smyth waiting for a Spadina Avenue car.

"Oh, Mrs. Gower, who do you think I have just seen?"

"Perhaps our mutual friend Charlie Cole," she answered, smiling.