A Romance of Toronto Part 2

"Nonsense, dear, we have seen it often enough."

"If you are tired, very well; but I wanted to make a spectacle of myself this time, and the ladies green with envy over my new heliotrope satin."

"Well, if that isn't self-abnegation," laughed Buckingham.

"Oh, you needn't sympathize, I only feel as the peac.o.c.k when he spreads his tail."

"How many churches did Mrs. Gower say there are here?" asked Miss Crew.

"One hundred and twenty; so you will have a choice of roads heavenward, Miss Crew," answered Buckingham.

"Yes, there are a number of roads, and only one guide-book," she answered, thoughtfully.

"Mrs. Gower will put you on the right track," he said quietly.

Here Mr. Dale returned, saying in pleased tones, "Well, Ella, I have telephoned Mrs. Gower of our arrival, and she says she will call at 11 a.m., then do the Exhibition, where we are to remain until we see Pekin bombarded."

"That is in the evening, and the best part of it this perfect weather; may I come?" said Buckingham.

"a.s.suredly."

"Thanks, and au revoir."

"Good night."

CHAPTER III.

INSTANTANEOUS PHOTOGRAPHS.

"Nothing is more deeply punished than the neglect of the affinities by which alone society should be formed and the insane levity of choosing our a.s.sociates by other's eyes," read a lady, musingly, as Emerson's essays fall from her knees to the soft carpet under her cushioned feet.

"Yes, nothing is more deeply punished," she half chanted in a musical voice, while a grave, troubled look came to the dark eyes, and a quiver of pain to the sensitive lips. "And well do you and I know it, Tyr, though you are only a dog," she continued, as she patted a brown retriever beside her. "Yes, you and I, Tyr, like only affinities; the others seem to us mongrels, and to us don't seem good. I wonder if they were so p.r.o.nounced in the first week when the world was young; but fancy is travelling without reason; they were all thorough-breds in the good old days, and one does not read of anything like Emerson's words on affinities, or a case similar to my own; but I am half asleep, Tyr; watch by me, good old dog."

And leaning her head back against the soft green velvet cushioned back of the rattan chair, Somnus is not wooed in vain; indeed, one might imagine the G.o.d of slumber had wound a garland of poppies about her brow, so does she sleep as an infant.

As she rests, a word of her. A Canadian; a native of Toronto, with far-away English kin; above the medium height; dark, comely, and slightly embonpoint; a woman of thirty, but with that troubled look at present on her face looking older; generous, warm-hearted and conscientious; with more than the average force of character; too sensitive in days past; too impulsive, even yet, in this world of "they daily mistake my words." Even at thirty, she has had years of trouble; has been dragged in the dust under Fortune's wheel, that others might ride aloft at her expense; earning her "dinner of herbs" that "Pooh Bah"

in the plural, may have the "stalled ox." But at last she rests, and summer friends would again know her, who fled at her first out-at-elbow gown; but experience is a good teacher, she will cherish only those who have cherished her in her dark days. Society also now desires her company in polite bids to its various webs, in shape of dinners and lunches, with its other numerous distractions, knowing she is in possession of a rather pretentious little home, and is in a position to repay; for society is a debit and credit system.

"Once a widow always a widow" was not the motto of Mrs. Gower, and so she would have again wed, again gone to G.o.d's altar; but the angel of death forbade, using his scythe almost as the words of the church p.r.o.nounced them man and wife, and the bridal gown of the morning gave place ere the sun had set to the black robes of a second widowhood.

Truly, "Sorrow there seemeth more of thee than we can bear and live;"

yet still we live, was her cry. The death of her friend, just at the time manly counsel would have saved her little fortune from vultures, habited as Christian pew-holders! was very hard, not to speak of that intense loneliness, the death of husband, wife, or betrothed, brings into one's life; one is as though struck mentally and physically blind, not knowing where to turn or whose hand to take; for until such relations are severed by death, one does not realize how one has leaned on the one in the mult.i.tude.

"But," she would say, "one must harden oneself to the inevitable, to Heaven's will, if one would keep one's reason;" and in time the sudden death of the man she had so pa.s.sionately loved, was as some terrible dream. Not as she dreams away the moments now in her pretty restful library, with its rattan furniture, cushioned and trimmed in olive-green velvet; one side a library of her pet authors, with Davenport near; walls painted in alternate green and cream panels; on the light ground are lilies from nature, gathered from Ashbridge's Bay, and near the Island; nestling in their bed of green leaves an English ivy trails around the pretty Queen Anne mantel, with two tall palms, which bring content to the canary as the perfume from the blossoms on the stand give pleasure to the sleeping mistress of Holmnest.

Her own individuality is stamped upon its walls also, for on each alternate dark green panel is some pretty bits of painting, bric-a-brac, or motto; one reads, "Let ilka ane gang their ain gait," showing her dislike to meddling in another's business; another reads, "The greatest of these is charity;" and over a bust of Shakspeare are his own words, "No profit goes where is no pleasure taken; in brief, sir, study what you most affect."

But she dreams, and what a troubled expression. At this moment a coupe drives up a north-west avenue of our city, stops at the gate of Holmnest, when a gentleman, hurriedly springing out, saying, "come back for me in about an hour-and-a-half, Somers," enters the picturesque grounds, has reached the veranda and hall door on south side of pretty Holmnest, rings, when a boy, in neat blue suit, answers.

"Is Mrs. Gower at home, Thomas?"

"Yes, sir; in the library."

"Very well, you need not announce me, I know the way;" and hastening his steps he pa.s.ses through a square hall, done in the warm tints now in vogue, sunbeams coming softened through artistic panes of stained gla.s.s, showing vases on brackets filled with flowers, which would delight "Bel Thistlethwaite," with a few appropriate pictures, giving life to the walls; the door of the library is ajar; he enters.

"Asleep!" he exclaims, softly; "with Emerson's thoughts for dreams and Tyr as watch; but what a troubled expression," he thinks, seating himself, evidently quite at home; a man, too, one would like to be at home with, if there be any truth in physiognomy, a handsome man, five feet eleven in height, dark hair and moustache, kindly blue eyes, amiability stamped on his face; a man who, had events shaped themselves that way, would have made an heroic self-sacrificing soldier of the Cross.

He is scarcely seated when the occupant awakes with a start and a terrified exclamation of "Oh!" at which the dog places his fore-paws on her knees, with a whine of sympathy, as her friend, Mr. Cole, comes forward with outstretched hand.

"When did you arrive; is it so late; you received my message to dine with the Dales and Smyths with me this evening? but I am half dreaming yet; of course you did, for you answered 'Yes.' Getting yourself in trim for leap-year, I suppose," she said, smiling; "but how is it you are in your office coat? I want you to look your very best, as you are to take in a young lady, a Miss Crew, who comes with the Dales; she is a super-excellent sort of girl."

"Has she money?" he says, laughingly.

"Oh, you need not pretend to be a fortune-hunter to me; I know you too well for that; but remember, I prophesy you will lose your heart to her.

But, oh, Charlie, I have had such a horrible dream," and she presses one hand to her forehead, at which the lace rufflings fall back from her sleeve, showing a very good arm, her gown of ecru soft summer bunting, becoming her style, "that dream will haunt me unless you let me tell it you, Charlie."

"Oh, that's the use you put me to, is it? all right, fire away, I'll interpret; it was only a mistake the baptizing me Charlie, when I have to play the part of Joseph."

"Well, in the first part, oh Joseph, I had been reading this morning what held my mind as to the ascent from Paris of the aeronauts, Mallet and Jovis; their courage, and Mother Shipton's prophecy impressed me sufficiently as to dream, with the words of Emerson as to affinities also in my mind, that a party of us--you, the Dales, Mrs. St. Clair, Miss Hall, Mr. Buckingham, and myself, with a gentleman who was masked--had been taking part in an entertainment in the Pavilion, Horticultural Gardens, in aid of the Hospital for sick children; we gave readings, vocal and instrumental music, and laughed inwardly and glowed outwardly, as we everyone, regardless of merit, received repeated recalls, when afterwards the recalcitrant balloon, which refused to inflate, when we gazed in vain at the fair grounds, did ascend after our performance, which fact emptied the Pavilion ere we had concluded our last effort, everyone flying, as we do at Toronto, as though there was a drop curtain with the words in flaming colors, 'The de'il take the hind-most;' the building was empty as our last supreme effort frightened the few dead-heads who had slunk in; we then laughingly made a rush to the balloon ascension, and determined there and then to further distinguish ourselves by becoming aeronauts _pro tem_. What made it ridiculously droll, Joseph, was the fact that the men in charge chanted continuously Emerson's words that had impressed me ere I slept--'Nothing is more deeply punished than the neglect of the affinities.' I was nearest the basket, and wild with reckless spirit. As I remember, myself stepped in; the owners seemed at variance who was to pose or rise," she said, smilingly, "as my affinity, that is of yourself, Messrs. Dale, Buckingham, or the man with the mask, when, finally, they signed to the latter to enter; I was nothing loth, for his voice, a sweet tenor, had charmed me; up we went, when to my horror your _bete noir_, Mr. Cobbe, sprang from among the branches of a tall tree into the basket.

"'Too much ballast,' he cried, throwing out all the owners had provided us with; we ascended rapidly--a feeling of faintness seizing me--up, up; I feel the sensation now," she said with a tremor; "up, up, nearing the feathery clouds, looking like down from the wings of angels. 'Too much ballast,' he again cried, excitedly springing on the masked man, first tearing off his mask, disclosing the essentially manly face of a gentleman whom I frequently meet, but am not acquainted with, but in whom I take an interest, because of his tender care of a little lady I used to see with him; Mr. Cobbe springing on him with the words, 'too much ballast; down with affinities!' hurled the poor fellow to earth, at which I cried out as you heard; his fall was a something too awfully real; one's nerves for the time suffer as severely as though all was reality," she added in a pre-occupied tone, as though mind was burdened with latent thought.

"But 'all's well that ends well;' Mr. Cobbe is in mid air, where I fervently hope he will remain."

"But you forget the poor man who was hurled to the earth; I know his face so well."

"And I know yours, Mrs. Gower, and you are safe and so am I; and as Joseph, I interpret that you are to give your charming self to an affinity, and don't fly too high."

"The first part of your speech is epicurean, in your second you play the mentor," she said, laughingly; "but in your face I see you have something to tell me; go now to the telephone and tell them to send you your dress coat, for you have no time to go all the way to the Walker House and be back by seven."

"No use; I cannot stay for dinner."

"Cannot stay! Why?"

"My father writes me he is going to sail for England at once, and wishes me to meet him at London."

"Well, you ought not to look so grave over such a meditated trip, Charlie, it will make a new man of you; and instead of betaking yourself to the Preston baths, a sea voyage, I should say, will set you up, making you forget the word rheumatism better than any sulphur bath in all Canada."

"But," he said, in serio-comic tones, "what do you think of my being forced into annexation?"

"Only that you use the word 'forced,' I should say I congratulate you."

"At the same time that you keep your own freedom, though," he said, despondently; seeing her look of gravity, he continued, touching her hand, "beg pardon, Elaine, I should not say that, knowing your past; but," he said brightly, "I should like to see you wed an affinity."

"I am afraid such pleasant fate is not for me," she said, gravely.