Marguerite Verne; Or, Scenes from Canadian Life Part 31

Phillip Lawson was a poor man. What right had he to offer consolation? He said nothing, but inwardly prayed that the storm might pa.s.s over and all would be brighter than the May morn.

"I challenge you to a game of dominoes, gentlemen," cried Mrs.

Montgomery who now felt that her presence was necessary.

"We are only too happy Mrs. Montgomery," said Phillip rising from his seat and placing a chair for her.

Mr. Verne also being seated the time honored game of muggins was soon in active operation and, as is often the cape, the lady being the best player was sadly worsted but submitted with a grace that was amusing.

"Come in often, Mr. Lawson; I am going to remain for three or four weeks and we need all the companions.h.i.+p we can muster," said the lively and unceremonious matron as she bade good-night to the former with an air of interest in every look and gesture--a something which seemed to say "depend on me."

Nor was the warm pressure of Mr. Verne's hand lost upon the susceptible nature of Phillip Lawson.

"If I had Hubert Tracy's riches what an amount of good I could accomplish; but what's the use." And for once the Christian spirit of the young man underwent sore temptation. He was wondering why it was that prodigals and spendthrifts, with no special ability but that of wasting other people's earnings, should have means inexhaustible while other poor fellows with fair ability should have to toil all their days for the means of subsistence and never have the wherewith to relieve their suffering fellow mortals or follow the yearnings of their impa.s.sionate hearts!

Mrs. Montgomery stood on the terrace and watched the receding figure of Phillip Lawson until he had crossed Queen Square and turned Charlotte street. She then returned to the parlor, and finding Mr.

Verne sitting as if in deep study, was about to retire when he quietly motioned her to a seat.

"Sit down here. Our young friend has gone, and it seems as if he took all the suns.h.i.+ne with him, for I feel more prosy than ever."

"You need not try to hide your feelings from me, Stephen; it is of no use. I am here to help you all I can, and much as it will cost you I must hear your trouble. Heaven knows I would gladly do all that lies within my power."

Mrs. Montgomery's bustling and bl.u.s.tering nature had now become calm and gentle as a child as she sat beside her brother-in-law and poured into his ear such words of sympathy and encouragement as she could honestly give.

"We will not blame her altogether," said Mr. Verne. "She was young and fond of gaiety, and I thought that in course of time our natures should blend together, but sad to say, with coming years the breach widened. She went into society and I took refuge in seclusion."

"Stephen, you need not try to smooth matters!" exclaimed Mrs.

Montgomery, allowing her temper to get aroused. "She is all to blame. Matilda is a fool, and I would tell her so if she stood face to face with me to-night!"

Mr. Verne did not raise his eyes, for he did not wish his companion to see the look of desperation settled there.

"And to think of the manner in which poor Marguerite is dragged over the continent for the sake of hunting up a grand match is something beyond endurance."

"It is all too true, Hester," moaned the grief-stricken husband. "It is all too true."

"And I would oppose it to the bitter end, Stephen. Yes, I would face poverty a thousand times rather than see a child of mine subjected to such indignity. I have watched Matilda's high-handed work with keen interest, I have noted everything, and if she thinks she has hoodwinked me I pity her delusion."

"The truth is I have been too much immersed in business to attend to much else, Hester, but at times I have not liked the manner in which things were going on. I never gave consent to Evelyn's marriage, I could not sanction it, but the girl seemed bent upon it, and I made no opposition in the matter."

"Montague Arnold is a dissipated man and immoral in every sense of the word, but that matters not in good society."

Mrs. Montgomery's face was indeed severe as she took from her pocket a piece of knitting and began making st.i.tches rapidly.

"It is one of the many enigmas of fas.h.i.+onable society which I can never account for: why the most worthless, debauched and dissipated young men are fawned upon, lionized and courted by the most respectable mothers and matrons, and allowed the full liberty of their ball-rooms, drawing-rooms, salons, &c., claiming the most virtuous maidens for their amus.e.m.e.nt and pastime! And further, an honest-minded young man, who leads a strictly moral life, and labors hard to gain a reputation for himself, is cast aside or scorned as a mere n.o.body!"

"It is too true, Hester, I can fully endorse what you say. I have indeed turned away in disgust from fas.h.i.+onable resorts when I have seen young men of the most vicious habits contaminating the very air with their dissoluteness, flirting and dancing with the pure-minded girls who would have shrunk away in loathing could they hare seen the same young men at a later hour in dens of iniquity."

Mr. Verne was excited; he thought of his lovely Marguerite, and a pang shot through his heart, causing his face and lips to become ashy white.

"It is a disagreeable subject to broach, but I cannot help it, Stephen--I mean Hubert Tracy," said Mrs. Montgomery, in suppressed and measured tones. "You are not blind, Stephen, to the fact that Matilda and Evelyn are conspiring to find a son-in-law for you, and that one is Mr. Tracy?"

"G.o.d forbid!" said Mr. Verne, springing to his feet as if stung by an adder.

"As true as my name is what it is, Stephen, you will see it--that is--if you do not try to prevent it."

"My Marguerite will never sacrifice herself in that way," said Mr.

Verne, vehemently--"never!"

"She will be talked into it. Marguerite will do anything rather than incur her mother's ill-will; for depend upon it, Matilda will lead her a sorry life if she shows opposition to her will."

"I have been too careless, Hester. It is yet time enough, thank G.o.d!

When Marguerite is once more safe in my sheltering arms she will neer be subjected to the importunities of disagreeable suitors."

"Evelyn has too much diplomacy in her character. Marguerite cannot cope with her ingenious allurements, depend upon it, but I hope everything may turn out for the best yet," said Mrs. Montgomery, with a wistful look upon her countenance.

"Hester, I have much to think of. Sometimes my thoughts are almost insupportable, I almost sink--I believe I would if it were not for Marguerite. She is my ministering angel--and I miss her so much."

It was only on this evening that Mr. Verne had become communicative.

He was always looked upon as a cold, reticent man, who had no sympathy with humanity in general; but there were those who could say "G.o.d bless you, Mr. Verne," from the bottom of their hearts. Who will presume to say that those grateful invocations were lost upon the winds--that they were not wafted to the Throne of Mercy, and received the plaudits of the King of Kings?

"I have long been thinking of having a talk with you, Stephen, and I feel now is the time," said Mrs. Montgomery, in confidential tone, yet betraying some hesitation. "We all know Stephen, that your family is living beyond your means, and that you are robbing yourself of health, strength and peace of mind to keep up an extravagant appearance. I ask you if that is right?"

"Hester, it is this that is killing me by inches, yet I cannot prevent it. What can I do? I cannot breast the current that is carrying along everything with it in maddening fury. One day I must make the plunge!"

Mr. Verne buried his face in his hands and wept like a child, while Mrs. Montgomery sat motionless, her eyes fixed upon the quaintly carved case of the eight day clock, whose solemn tick made the stillness more oppressive.

Mrs. Montgomery was the first to speak. "Stephen, it is not too late to straighten up matters. Take my advice, and if you are not more prosperous a year hence I will give you the deed of 'Gladswood.'--a present on your next birthday."

Mr. Verne forced a smile, and grasping the woman's hand, exclaimed, "Hester, you are, indeed, a friend in the hour of need. I feel stronger already."

"It is growing late, Stephen, and you need rest; we will talk over the matter to-morrow," and bidding good-night, Mrs. Montgomery arose and retired to her own apartments, while Mr. Verne sat buried in thought until the clock struck the hour of midnight; then slowly he arose, and, with languid step, turned a sad face towards the door, musing, "It is all sent for some good. Teach me, oh G.o.d, to see things as I ought."

CHAPTER XXIII.

MRS. MONTGOMERY'S IDEAS OF SOCIETY, ETC.

Next morning Mr. Verne was astir at a very early hour. The rest of the household apparently wrapped in deep slumber, while the wearied man of business sat at his desk, his features fixed and immovable as the bronze productions of the inimitable Lysippus who had won the favor of the Great Alexander.

Scratch! scratch! scratch! went the pen over the lines with inconceivable rapidity, the writer occasionally glancing over his left arm at the doc.u.ment he was copying. The tortoise-sh.e.l.l cat sat at her master's feet with an air of self-importance and a look which seemed to say, "woe be to him who dare to drive me hence."

But there was another within the walls of Sunnybank who was also awake--Mrs. Montgomery.

She leaned on the side of her couch and listened to the faint sound that at intervals came from the office: "Well, well; what will be the end G.o.d alone knows! Matilda Verne, you will one day see the fruits of your folly and taste them in all their bitterness!"

"I must divert him from such work. It is killing the man by inches; surely there is some way out of the difficulty--where there's a will there's a way.'"